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“Uh huh.”

He glances down at me. “Focus, sweetheart.”

I lick my lips, still tasting his lips on mine. God, they taste good.

“Sorry, you just…”

“Just what?”

Blew my fucking mind.

“Distracted me.”

“Yeah, well, you and me both.” He pauses. “It worked.”

A little too well. Because I want us to stop walking. I want to take him into a dark corner against another car, want him to lift me up, to wrap my legs around him, feel his mouth against mine, feel the rest of him beneath my palm, discover what those feelings for me really are.

But he seems more than happy to keep that a few yards back. He’s walking toward the oonce oonce music with determination on his face and I guess it’s about time that I put my raging horniness to the side and focus on the matter at hand.

He hasn’t made it easy, though.

I doubt he even realizes what he just did to me.

We keep walking to the event and eventually we go through the ticket taker (no tickets, but with Max it doesn’t matter), then through a metal detector which doesn’t make me feel any better (but does make the point that a sword wouldn’t be appreciated).

Then we’re in the rave.

I immediately wish I was higher. Like, higher-than-Vicodin kind of high. The music is loud and everyone is dancing with the happiest, most intense expressions on their faces. It makes me jealous of their drugs. Then again, if I had a moment alone with Max again... Fuck, we don’t even have to be alone. I’ll fucking maul him right here, in front of everyone.

Hey girl, calm your tits.

But though the voice inside my head means well, it’s a little too quiet.

Max squeezes my hand, keeping me close to him, as we make our way through the crowd. I don’t know how on earth we’re supposed to find the two demons in here. I mean, everyone’s eyes are so dilated that they look demonic anyway, and all the vibes are going in all directions. Plus, we never even got a look at them. I guess the only thing we have to go by is Max’s eyes, if they ever get flames in them. And I think if I have to stare into his eyes all night, waiting for that, I’m going to end up making out with him again.

“Now what?” I say to him when we come to stop by the bar, giving us a broader view of the crowd. Since everyone here is high as fuck and therefore not drinking, there’s not much of a crowd in this area.

“I don’t know,” he says, scanning the crowd. “I reckon it’s pretty much impossible to pin them down.”

“But didn’t you say they’d find us eventually? You’ve got a tracker on you or something.”

He glances at me. “So then, we wait here and see if they show up?”

“I don’t see you coming up with any ideas.”

He gives me a crooked grin. “Alright. We’ll do that.”

“Okay, good, because I’m having a drink,” I tell him, turning around to face the bartender whose been watching us this whole time. “Hi. Beer, please.” I look at Max, even though he’s scanning the crowd. “Better make it two. If he doesn’t have it, I will.”

The bartender gives me two beers and I slap down a twenty that barely covers them. Max looks back at me, shakes his head. “Those both for you?”

“Actually, one is for you.” I hold it out for him, but he doesn’t bite.

“You have it,” he says, and goes back to looking around.

Okay, so I know I’m still kind of high and about to be drunk, but I don’t really understand how he could just kiss me like that and pretend it never happened. I mean, it did happen. This is going to stick with me for a long time. Kisses like that happen once in a lifetime, he can’t possibly pretend it was just for show, just a distraction.

Then he looks back at me. “You okay? I’m just going to go check on something.”

“Don’t you dare go far,” I warn.

“I won’t.”

He walks off into the crowd. He’s by far the tallest person here, so at least he’s easy to spot as he cuts through the crowd.

I keep my eyes glued to his head, peeling off one label and finishing the beer before I do the same to the other. Eventually I drift away from the bar until I lose sight of Max.

Fuck. Just my luck I’m going to end up cornered by those demons and with my brain just open for them to look at, they’re going to know it’s me.

“Hey sugar.”

I jump, startled, and see some skeezy looking guy in a sweat-soaked white tank top, man bun, and grizzly beard in need of some conditioner.

“Sugar?” I repeat.

He moves closer to me, making me back up against a fence post.