Over the next week, I tried hard to follow the vampire brothers’ instructions and get on with my life.

It pained me to admit it, but the dark-haired one was right. Since leaving Kyle and moving to a new city on my own, I had so few attachments left that no one noticed the change in me. No one called or knocked on my door, wondering what had happened to me.

The job at Osiris had always been my survival job, while the bakery had been my passion. But since I couldn’t leave home during the day anymore, the bar was my only chance to maintain a semblance of my old life. I was determined to go back to work right away and act as if nothing had happened to me.

If I acted like I was okay, maybe I’d start to feel okay.

But all the determination in the world couldn’t comfort me as my next shift at the bar approached. The knot in my stomach kept tightening. I hadn’t been around people since my transformation, and the bar was always packed to the brim, even on weeknights.

What would I do if a craving came over me, and I couldn’t control myself? The blood bags were fine, but there was something lacking in them. The thought of drinking fresh blood made my heart hammer with equal parts excitement and horror.

At Osiris, I’d be in a room full of them. A room full of potential victims. A room full of witnesses. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

So I took the coward’s route and called out for a few nights. I used the same excuse I’d given Carly, and although the bar manager, Tony, was nowhere near as sweet about it as she’d been, he didn’t give me too much flack.

I spent the next several days locked up in my apartment sleeping, binge-watching trashy shows on Netflix, stress-baking, and staring out the window.

By the time the seventh evening rolled around, I was going completely stir crazy. I didn’t know what my new life as a vampire meant, but I was positive I didn’t want this to be it. Anything was better than staying locked up in my apartment like some kind of pariah.

My self-imposed exile was wearing on my sanity, and it’d only been a few days. I’d never last a year, let alone hundreds of years, living like this. Being around people might be difficult, but I was growing more certain I could handle it.

I wasn’t scheduled to work until the next evening, but I craved the comfort of someplace familiar. So at around 11 p.m., I threw on one of the only dresses I owned—a stretchy black number with thin shoulder straps that hugged my curves and fell to about mid-thigh. I’d bought it when I first moved to New York but had only worn it once. I didn’t go out much, so I’d had few opportunities.

My worry about snapping and attacking someone had waned, but just to be on the safe side, I pulled a blood bag from the fridge, poked a hole in it, and drained it swiftly. I tried not to enjoy the coppery taste as it slid down my throat—tried to ignore the way my incisors grew longer as I drank, as if called by some primal part of me.

After pulling my dark hair back into a ponytail and slipping on a pair of heels, I headed for the bar. The cool night air was a welcome change from the stuffiness of my apartment.

For the first few minutes, I darted my gaze around furtively, convinced I must have a neon sign above me flashing “Different! Does not belong!”

But no one crossed the street to avoid me or shrank away in fear at the sight of me. A few men eyed me up and down as I passed, but that was it.

Osiris was packed as usual. I made my way through the crowd and sidled up to the bar. Pete, one of my favorite bartenders, glanced up at me then did a double-take. He was probably surprised to see me in a dress. My usual work outfit was a simple top and nice jeans, the most basic ensemble Tony would let me get away with.

“Damn, you look good, Willow!” he called, leaning over the bar toward me. “Hey, you feeling better?”

“Much. Thanks.” I grinned, almost giddy at the first human interaction I’d had in days.

I ordered the fanciest cocktail on the menu. I’d only had it once before, when I’d first started working at Osiris and was in training. But I wanted to see what it would taste like with my newly enhanced senses.

Speaking of which…

I wrinkled my nose. There apparently was a downside to every upside about this whole vampire business. My enhanced sense of smell and taste made cupcakes extra amazing. But they turned a place like Osiris into a mishmash of olfactory sensations—not all of them pleasant. The scents of dozens of perfumes and aftershaves invaded my nostrils, intermingled with the smell of booze, sweat, and musk.

Pete passed my drink over, and I gulped down a quick sip, trying to block out the other smells. The flavor exploded on my tongue, and I smiled.

The burly man chuckled. “You like it?”

I nodded enthusiastically and turned to watch the crowd in the bar.

Grace was dropping off a tray of drinks at a table in the back. When she glanced up and caught sight of me, her eyes widened. She beelined over, pulling me into an enthusiastic hug.

We were work friends because Grace had decided we would be. Not that I’d had any objections, but if it’d been left up to me, we probably would’ve only said a few words to each other. I was naturally somewhat of a loner, and nine years of marriage to Kyle had only exacerbated that. But Grace, who started at Osiris a few months before I did, wasn’t bothered by my quiet demeanor one bit. Her bubbly personality more than made up for my shyness.

“Welcome back to the land of the living!” She grinned at me when she finally released me. Then her dark eyes went wide as she looked me up and down. “Woah. Willow, what the hell?”

“What? What is it?” My stomach dropped. No one else had noticed anything strange about me. What had she seen?

Grace wolf whistled. Her full lips pursed as she examined me, her nose ring flashing in the dim colored lights of the bar. She had dark skin and a short afro that hugged her head, and her eyes always sparkled with a hint of mischief.

“You look different!” she exclaimed, turning my body from side to side as she continued her perusal.

I stepped back, slipping out of her grasp with an uncomfortable shrug. “Um, no, I don’t think so.”

“You do,” she insisted. “Holy hell, you so do. Your skin looks incredible, and you’re fucking rocking that dress. You look amazing! Good lord, every guy in the room is checking you out. Hell, I’m checking you out!”

“Oh. Well, thanks.” I groped on the bar for my drink, bringing it to my lips with a shaky hand. At least she hadn’t noticed anything way off about me. Like fangs poking out of my mouth or something. “You look great too,” I added, in a desperate attempt to distract her.

I should’ve known it was pointless. Grace had latched onto her discovery like a pit bull clinging to its favorite chew toy.

“I can’t get over it! You’re, like, glowing or something.” Her eyes narrowed. “Oh my God. Did you get laid?”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and even though the bar was noisy, I shushed her quickly.

“No!” Then I hesitated. That was probably the safest explanation for all this, and it would definitely distract her. “All right, maybe.”

Grace grinned triumphantly. I tried to slip past her toward the bathrooms, but she blocked my path.

“Nuh-uh. You’re not getting away that easily. Who is this guy? Tell me about him!”

I froze, momentarily tongue-tied. I didn’t have a lie prepared for this.

“Um… Well, he’s really tall.” An image of the nameless man with dark hair flashed through my mind. “Six-foot-four maybe. With broad shoulders.” Jerrett’s piercing blue eyes hovered in my memory, nearly stealing my breath. “Blue eyes.” Sol’s kind face followed, with his serious expression and messy golden hair. “Wavy blond hair, and a little dimple in his chin.”

“Day-um! Go, Willow!” Grace raised her eyebrows, smirking at me. “So does he have a brother?”

I swallowed. No, he doesn’t have a brother, he has two.

And the man I’d just described was an amalgamation of all of them. How did I remember their faces so well? I hadn’t spent more than a few minutes with them.

“Uh… I don’t know. I’ll ask him for you,” I muttered, staring down into my drink like there was a prize at the bottom.

“Well, either way, I’m glad you’re getting some hot man action. ’Bout time!” Grace elbowed up to the bar next to me and flagged down Pete. “Hey, Petey! Two shots of Patron. My girl needs to celebrate!”

Pete grinned and slid the drinks down the bar. Grace toasted me before tossing hers back like a pro. I mirrored her action more slowly, unable to keep the grimace off my face as the alcohol burned its way down my throat. Everything about it was more intense with vampire senses, and I coughed as I set the empty glass on the bar.

Grace winked at me then slipped away to check on her tables.

As the burn in my throat eased, it was replaced by a deeper ache in my chest. I rubbed my sternum absently, hardly noticing how the guy next to me followed the movement of my hand before his gaze slid lower, ogling my breasts.

As sweet as Grace was to be excited for me, none of what she thought we were celebrating had actually happened. I hadn’t had a hot hookup with some amazing guy—I’d been attacked by a supernatural monster, turned into a vampire by three mysterious brothers, and then unceremoniously tossed out on my ass.

If anything, I was drinking to forget.

With that thought in mind, I nodded to Pete for another shot. Then another.

I hadn’t drunk this heavily since the night I’d decided to ask Kyle for a divorce. Given my lightweight status, I should’ve been seeing double by the time I plunked down the third empty shot glass. But although I felt buzzy and light, I wasn’t falling off my chair yet. Maybe being a vampire affected how I metabolized alcohol too. I hadn’t read anything about that in my online research.

A little while later, Grace went on break and came looking for me again. Maybe she’d noticed me inexplicably moping into my drink, because she hauled me off the stool I’d settled onto and dragged me over to the dance floor.

This was the part of the night I usually dreaded most as a cocktail waitress. The crowd was getting looser, sloppier, and more people pressed themselves onto the dance floor that dominated one corner of the large space. When I was trying to work, it was sort of a pain in the ass. More spilled drinks, more wandering hands.

But as a slightly tipsy bar patron?

It was freaking amazing.

Grace nodded encouragingly as I moved along with the song blaring through the speakers. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d danced in public. But the throbbing beat of the music, the low, flickering lights, the gyrating bodies and rapid thrum of dozens of heartbeats around me—it all swept me away, pulling me out of myself, erasing my worries and fears.

I hadn’t gotten drunk from the alcohol. But I was drunk on this.

Twisting and whirling, I lost sight of Grace. But I didn’t care. Other bodies moved in to fill the space around me, and I let myself be swept away.

There was plenty of time to return to reality later.

After all, I had all the time in the world now.