On the way back to Ever Nights, she dialed Cole, but he didn’t answer, so she left him a message, imploring him not to go into work tonight. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. “Then we’ll book it.”

She’d use tonight to say goodbye to Cortez—

She skittered to a stop as she turned the corner to Ever Nights.

The club was lit up like a Christmas tree. Spotlights danced in the sky and there was a line around the block to get in. Her vocal cords jumped in her throat at the sight of all those people. Ryder and another vampire she hadn’t seen were guarding the door and arguing with people that they were at capacity. Ryder looked surprised when he spotted her crossing the car-filled parking lot.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, glancing around as though looking for a threat. Little did he know she was the threat. “You should be inside.”

The crowd groused as he escorted her through the doors.

“Shut it!” the other vampire snapped at them. The complaints dimmed.

Ryder ushered her past the lobby, through a short corridor, and into a large open room with high ceilings. The crowd here was thick as well, chortling with excitement. So many people. So much energy. All for me.

She bit her tongue to keep from belting out her song. The loud music blasting through heavy speakers would make it impossible for anyone but those closest to hear her at all. It wasn’t the right time. Heart thumping, her throat constricted, smothering her vocal cords. Her gaze darted around the room for an answer to her dilemma.

Still holding onto her, she and Ryder had to push past bodies until finally they reached a private VIP table on a dais.

“Wait here!” He had to yell to be heard. “I’ll let Cortez know where you are.” He vanished into the throng.

People swayed and danced nearby. Her vocal cords whimpered in their cage. Her body quivered, breaths shadowing. She swiped away a fine mist of sweat on her forehead. The thumping in her chest out-drummed the pulsating subwoofers near the stage. She had to stay in control. Only a very few close by people would be snared if she—

The stage!

People were shoved up against it on the opposite side of the room. Complete with instruments and several microphones, it was like a beacon of light in darkness.

No time to think, she hurled herself into the crowd, fighting toward that promised land.

Almost there. Just a little farther.

Bodies keep getting in her way. She must have used violence, because a few people screeched as she passed. One guy called out, “Hey!” as though offended by her macabre need to get to that mic.

Finally, at the edge of the stage, she hefted herself up, scrambled to the mic, and ripped it from its stand.

Blissful screeching feedback hushed the crowd. Thousands of eyes turned on her. Her heart thundered; not from fear, but from anticipation.

Under the hot lights, she caught the sight of Cortez barreling through the door, his eyes darting furiously, his expression strange. Then their gazes locked. At first he seemed surprised to see her on stage, a curious tilt to his brow. His attention bounced to the mic in her hand then back to her face and that surprise turned to anger.

Thinking the show was on, someone landed a spotlight on her. She squinted at the sudden sting, now only able to see the front row. Dozens of people gazed up at her expectantly.

She brought the mic to her lips, and loosed her voice, a soft hymn at first that so easily fell into sync with the rhythmic beat of the bass bumping through the room. Her entire body relaxed as her snare stretched out. So many people in such close quarters meant that she was feeding almost instantly.

She gave her voice room to grow into a confident treble before exploding into a thunderous chime that cut through the air and bled into the farthest walls, the words coming as naturally as the sound was beautiful. She often made up lyrics, letting the moment take her. Now was one of those times.

As her eyes adjusted to the blaring light, she found the hazy form of Cortez slicing through the crowd toward her. He stopped several feet from the front row, glaring up at her. He wasn’t happy about her stunt. She’d have to deal with that later. Now all that mattered was the exuberant energy flowing into her, rejuvenating her. It was like candy on Halloween. Presents at Christmas. Cake on Birthdays.

She closed her eyes and smiled as a rhythmic hook exploded from her lungs and she held fast to a single cord. It playfully soared and dove and glided around the room, whipping like a feather in the wind yet landing like a sharpened blade. A hush fell over the crowd.

Her eyelids cracked open when her tone turned soulful, sorrowful. She zeroed in on Cortez, meeting his gaze once more. His expression was now inscrutable.

Somehow this song had turned into something personal. Something gut-wrenching and filled with melancholy. An ode to love and loss and regret.

This song was her heart on a plate.

His expression remained blank.

Fully recharged, she slowed it down, her voice tapering off till her humming tone weaved through the beat, as darkly ambiguous as desire itself. Aria complete, she let the mic fall to her side.

The crowd roared with applause.

She blinked, as though roused from a trance. Cortez was gone. She searched for him. He was stage left, waiting for her, a deep frown cutting into his lips. She took a couple quick bows and replaced the mic before stepping off stage.

“Come with me.” His tone was tinged in ice. He gripped her by the arm, much in the same way Dante had, and dragged her after him.

“Look,” she started, her legs working to keep up. His grip on her was alarmingly tight. “I’m sorry I did that. It won’t happen again, I swear.”

He snorted derisively. “Least of your problems.”

“Huh?” She hardly noticed where he was taking her till they ended up in something that resembled a conference room with a long rectangular table surrounded by black leather chairs. A flat screen TV was built into the wall. Ryder, Donovan, and several others bordered the room…all glaring at her.

She understood that Cortez didn’t like the idea of her performing in his club, but this reaction was a bit much.

“Sit,” Cortez ordered, whipping her toward a chair.

Stunned, she sank down, wildly glancing around. “W-What’s going on?” Seven vampires sneered at her, their arms crossed. Even Ryder looked pissed, his earlier smile a ghost in her memory. He gazed at her now like he didn’t even know who she was. Could that one little performance really have ticked everyone off to this degree?

“It was just a song, guys. I won’t do it again.” If she wasn’t so freaked out right now, she would have applauded her steady tone. She glanced up at Cortez, pleading with her eyes. “Was it really so wrong, what I did?”

Anger twitched his jaw, his stone-cold expression growing even more chilly. He snatched a remote off the table and pressed a button. A still photograph flashed on the screen. The image was shot outside Dante’s Pit, taken earlier this evening…at the exact moment when Dante had shoved that cash into her palm. Another photo replaced the first, showing his hand on her ass as she started away, a sickeningly satisfied smile on his face.

Nausea slammed into her stomach. “Y-you had me followed again?”

“Donovan noticed you leaving in quite a hurry…alone. Thought I might want you protected, so he trailed you at a distance. He was shocked to find you’d walked to Dante’s Pit, even more so when, minutes after entering, you emerged with the man himself looking all too pleased with himself. Tell me, did he pay you for the sex or for the information you gave him? Or was it just a bonus for screwing me?”

“I-I didn’t—”

Cortez stabbed another button on the remote.

Grainy surveillance footage popped up: It was an above shot of her frantically snooping through Cortez’s office.

Nausea turned nuclear. Dizzying and sickly, she pleaded, “Cortez, I…”

He punched both his fists down on the table so hard it splintered straight to the middle. She jumped at the loud crack. A matching fisher lashed her heart. “I don’t have to read your mind to see the guilt on your face.” He stood, his glare sharp. “The ONE person in half a millennia who could lie to me!”

The one person? Was he saying what she thought? Could he truly read minds? It seemed so, but not hers, apparently. The pain in his expression sliced her open.

“I didn’t,” she began desperately. “I mean, I can explain.” She reached for him but he recoiled from her. Another lash to her heart. She pulled her hand back.

“Save it for Dante.” He faced the door, and took the knob in a white-knuckle grip, giving her his profile. “If I see you around my club again, you won’t like the consequences.”

Panic set in. She jumped to her feet. “Won’t you even listen to me?” Tears spilled down her cheeks. He was out the door before she finished speaking. It slammed closed behind him.

She caught a sob with her palms and squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to keep the pain inside.

It didn’t work.

Agony didn’t cover what she was feeling. In less than five minutes, her heart had been ripped from her chest and shoved in a blender with two ball bearings and a switchblade. She was shredded.

Ryder stepped forward. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.” His manner was brusque, but there was a hint of pity in his tone. Standing upright was almost painful when all she wanted was to curl into a ball and die.

As she walked, Ryder had to adjust her trajectory several times as they headed for the lobby because she wasn’t watching where she was going. The world was a wet blur.

Live music now blared from the room where she’d seized the stage only minutes ago. It took her muddled mind a second to recognize the eclectic voice. She gasped, peeking in to see the famous singer, Kenny Raymond, playing one of her favorite songs to a roaring crowd.

Hand on her heart, she stumbled back, fresh tears stinging her eyes. She recalled Cortez in her room gazing appreciatively at her Kenny Raymond poster.

This was the surprise he’d had planned for her? The sweetest thing anyone had ever done.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her chest was caving in.

It took several heartbeats to realize Ryder was holding her upright. People were staring at her strangely. Oh right, because she was openly sobbing and shaking like a paint mixer.

“Come on girl. Get it together. You only knew him for a week. It’s not like there were marriage bells in your future.”

She suddenly wanted to scratch Ryder’s eyes out on principle. But, grudgingly she admitted he was right. She was devastated over the shortest relationship in history. A relationship that would have come to an end anyway, even if Cortez hadn’t learned of her treachery. She was leaving town in less than twenty-four hours. She had Cole to think about. She couldn’t let her kindhearted brother see her like this. He’d want to march on over here and kick Cortez’s ass. And Cortez would not humor him like he had over the phone.

She could hold herself together for a couple of days till they were settled elsewhere. Plenty of time to crumble into pieces later, in private.

Her phone chimed. Finally, a text from Cole. She wiped her face and retrieved the device. He’d sent her a picture? She opened the attachment. The image was of Cole sitting on a chair. He appeared upset? Wait, no, he looked afraid....

Why were his hands behind his back like that? It didn’t look comfortable. Who had taken this picture?

A second text popped up: Do as I say, Naia. There was another attachment as well. Thumbing it open, her brain went fuzzy, not registering the bloodied, blob-face thing in the image, a human figure…sitting in the same chair Cole had occupied….

Knees crashing into the tiled floor, she screamed.