"Greg! Fancy seeing you here!"

While Greg was looking fine in his fancy suit, he did not look fine or fancy to have seen me. Maybe I had laid the fake surprise on a little too thick. Oh well, cause I wasn't letting it up either. Waving my gloved arm, I trotted over to where the vamp had exited his cab and frozen on the sidewalk, the fringe of my flapper dress swinging around my knees.

Glad I took the gamble on dressing up (the place was a speakeasy). Greg was ready for a black-tie affair. Although his black suit and tie and crisp white shirt were plain bordering on nondescript, he pulled off the classic look well.

"Don't you shine up like a new penny," I said as I reached him.

He stared at me, expression somewhere between confusion and panic. "You keep turning up like a bad one."

"Or a lucky one."

"So lucky that you just happen to show up at this bar tonight?" he sighed, nodding at the line formed around the corner. "My secretary told you I'd be here?"

I snorted. "Seriously? Here I was about to ask if you were the one stalking me like a bloodthirsty creature of the night. I'm just out for a drink. You?"

He raised a brow at me.

So I may have craned my neck a bit. Just a smidge.

The Bok building, in all its art deco glory, used to be a high school from the 1930s right up until '13. One acre of land and eight stories tall, it towered over most other buildings in this South Philly neighborhood. It had only been converted into art studios and galleries and boutiques and small, locally sourced gluten-free vegan bakeries within the last few years, complete with a swanky speakeasy on the rooftop.

Of course, I'd heard of Irwin's before last night. It was the hottest spot for vamps to take their blood donors these days. Apparently. And, as it turned out, much more exclusive at the entrance than I had anticipated. I was freezing my nips off in this roaring 20s getup standing around waiting for my vamp to show up.

I mean, he's not my—you know what I mean.

And, 'aight, fine, so Phoebe may have confirmed a suspicion of mine in the very awkward phone chat I'd had with her this afternoon – I don't see why she felt the need to tell me her boss was under the weather, whatever that meant – but assuming Greg would come here next was all me.

Speaking of being under Greg, or... yeah, sure. Speaking of Greg, up close I noticed his skin was ashy and gray, especially under his eyes. His bones seemed more prominent. Is it possible for vamps to lose weight overnight? They always come off as glowing and ethereal those perfectly reanimated sons of bitches. But Greg looked, well, dead.

Not that it was a bad look on him.

"You look like I could buy you a drink regardless. I hear they got some high-quality veins on tap—Oh!" I feigned surprise. "Unless you're here on business?"

Greg pinched the bridge of his nose, his whole face scrunching in a kind of cute display of exasperation. Either that or he was suffering from one heck of a sinus headache.

"Isla, what are you doing?"

Delaying my untimely demise, I guess. I don't know. What else could I do? You couldn't have expected me to just sit around and wait for whoever trashed my apartment to come back for me, could you? Well, I couldn't. Uh uh, not me. I just spent the whole afternoon cleaning up the mess and pacing and chugging coffee and working up the nerve just to call Greg's office because, honestly, where else could I go right now?

I guess this sort of thing's been happening to me a lot, lately.

Oh, don't worry, Grumpkin was safe, I made sure of it.

Greg dropped his hand and looked at me, his blue eyes brimming with something that looked an awful lot like either annoyance or pity. Should I tell him the truth? Not unless you want him to question why you'd be getting blackmailed or threatened or whatever that was, Isla.

"I needed to get out—" those blue eyes softened, and with them my well-rehearsed lies. I fiddled with the intricate beading on my dress, resisting the sudden craving for a cigarette only because I knew it would smear my lipstick. "I couldn't sit around and do nothing, okay?"

Suddenly, the vamp's cold hand was on my chin, gently lifting my face to meet his. A knot twisted in my gut as I recalled the other night when he guided my gaze with his finger to hypnotize me. But this didn't feel like that. It was... softer. Greg's brows were furrowed. His mouth bent in an open grimace.

"The bags under your eyes are worse," he said.

Rude.

"Yeah, I was going for a mirroring look, since, you know, you may not have seen yourself in one lately."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I've got a better skin tone for walking corpse than you." He bit the inside of his cheek. "Have you slept?"

Does a handful of accidental twenty-minute naps while vacuuming or re-applying protective spells with my blackout curtains closed because I was freaking out about being watched count?

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"Eh, don't bet on it," he released my chin. "You shouldn't be doing this. Humans can't get in without—aren't you cold?"

Greg's voice rose a full octave as he realized I wasn't wearing my jacket. Hey, coat checks were never free, and I didn't feel like carrying it around all night. The leopard print totally clashed with my outfit anyway.

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

I tucked my hands under my armpits and shrugged. "Bet it's warmer upstairs."

The vamp's eyes narrowed in time with his sagging shoulders. Goosebumps erupted across my neck and arms and he licked his lips. "You did not do all of this," he waved a hand at me, "just to manipulate me into bringing you upstairs so I don't feel guilty about letting you freeze to death? No, stop, I already know you'll only say something cheeky. Fine. You win, you're a persuasive dame. But follow my lead or else we'll both be tossed out."

A true gentleman, Greg took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. He didn't let go of it though, but instead anchored his arm possessively around me and steered me toward the front entrance. Simply amazing how many times I'd already found myself in this position the last two days.

"I'm not going to steal your jacket. You can let go," I mumbled, feeling another hot flush creep up into my cheeks.

"When the bouncer asks, you're mine, alright?" he whispered into my hair. Something like moths fluttered in my stomach and my pulse throbbed in my neck. I think he felt it too, cause for a moment he tensed, nearly tripping over our weird huddle of feet in the process. "I mean, you're with me."

"You vamps and your control issues."

I flashed the bouncer a wide smile as we approached.

"I don't have a control issue," Greg huffed and firmly marched me up the stairs to the front entrance, ignoring the winding line. "You're still going to buy me that drink."

"Fine, but it's going to be bottom shelf O-pos. You know my price range."

The bouncer, a taller and bulkier vampire with an undercut, rolled his eyes once he spotted me. "No, come one, what I tell you the first time?"

"Ahem," Greg cleared his throat and gave my shoulder a little squeeze.

"Yeah, Greg. I see you."

"She's mine, Curtis."

A rush of warmth zipped through my gut and down my shaky legs.

Curtis the bouncer looked us up and down several times. "Yeah?"

"And—well—we—"

Son of a well-oiled gun we were crashing. The clearing throats over my shoulder probably meant the throuple behind us was getting antsy. Too bad for them.

Before Greg could open his mouth to argue with Curtis, I hooked my arm around his thin waist and blurted: "It's my first time! You know," I ran a hand along the smooth, exposed, undamaged skin of my neck. "My bad about before, I just got so anxious to finally see this place. Greg has been promising to take me forever. I mean, not literally forever, but, you know." I reached to stroke Greg's cheek and felt him fight the recoil. "You promised you'd make it special."

Good lord, what was that? What tormented soul of a valley girl cheerleader on prom night just reached up from heck to possess my mouth like that? There was no way that stupid act would work. Men didn't really buy this dumb blonde impressed by her boyfriend's machismo crap, did they? I mean, look at Greg. He was quaking on his wingtips and his mouth was in an incredibly tight twist.

For a moment—too long of a moment—Curtis continued to stare at us. Damn it. This really wasn't going to work.

But then Greg, you know, kissed me. Sort of. It wasn't on the lips. It might not have even been a kiss at all. One moment I was bracing to have my ass thrown on the curb and the next Greg's cool lips grazed the shell of my ear and along my jaw. My knees, stupid, useless, things, weakened. He shifted his arm from my shoulders to my hip to support me.

My pulse spiked. I knew it did. And maybe that's why Greg's mouth lingered against my skin as heat surged to that spot. He pulled away, slowly, too slowly, agonizingly slowly, his whole body tensing as mine tingled all over.

"What did I tell you, darling?" he purred through gritted teeth. Follow my lead. Sweet Jesus, was this punishment for disobeying? Can I do it again sometime? "Have patience." And then, to Curtis: "Mortal women, always acting like they're about to expire, am I right?"

A wide grin erupted on Curtis' face, revealing chunky fangs. He clapped Greg hard on the shoulder and our combined balance faltered.

"I always knew you had it in ya, man. She's something. Sorry for the hold up, before, she didn't," he leaned in close, "smell familiar. Like, you."

Greg glowered. "Still going around sniffing gals like a dog begging for scraps, Curtis?"

Curtis scowled, but he shut up. We cut the line, and he directed us inside, down a long, locker lined corridor, and into the elevator. He spent the walk obsessively smoothing his tie. Funny. Curtis had on a real similar suit to Greg's.

As for Greg, well, the suit looked better on him. Plus I was beginning to notice he smelled like pine trees, since he was keeping me anchored awkwardly on his hip until the elevator dinged and the doors closed. Once we got moving, Greg practically sprang off me and into the opposite corner of the tiny metal box I was in with a vampire that had no windows or real ventilation and probably no way for anyone to hear me scream. Cool.

"Well. I think that plan went about as smooth—"

"He's right," Greg groaned. "You don't smell like a vampire's consort—"

"As a buttered butthole. Consort?"

"This place is strict. No unaccompanied humans. I was trying to say outside that you'd never make it in without an escort. Buttered butthole?"

"I had to say something to save our own buttholes, you were failing out there, Mr. I don't have a thing about control."

"I had a handle on it. I came in here with a plan, and then you showed up, and well," he ran a jittery hand through his hair. "You cut the breaks while I was on the highway."

"What do I smell I like?"

Greg hesitated. "Cigarettes."

Yeah, I could use one right about now. The elevator was slow moving and much warmer than it had been outside. I shrugged off Greg's jacket and handed it back to him. He accepted, at arm's length, and he didn't even try to hide the whiff he took as he put it on this time.

"I'm sorry," he said, flicking his own ear. "I should've been straight with you about what I meant out there. What I expected. I'm working, but you're just here cause you're worried about Lily. Never meant to overstep any boundaries. Not that you seem to have any."

"Thanks," I said flatly.

"But you shouldn't have been so, flirtatious. For your own good. They'll expect things."

"Well I expect my big, strong vampire escort not to let anybody rip my throat out if he expects me to pay him."

"Oh my—I'm not going to let you die, woman! That's incredibly unethical. Not to mention I have no idea know to claim that in my Indeath Taxes. That file at home program is a scam. Collateral damage clauses are so much more confusing than you'd think."

I laughed. Greg was grinning.

"You look pretty, by the way."

Oh. Wow. That was a nice compliment (that he technically said to the wall over his left shoulder). Greg did have a sweetness about him, in all his very unvampire-like stuttering and fidgeting. A sincerity. Sure, he was just working, but he clearly gave a shit about the work, about Lily. If this turned south on him because of me I might, if the stars aligned, feel bad about it. About as bad as I felt knowing he was wrong about me. I wasn't here for Lily. I was just out to save my own ass.

You know, it's a real wonder how he manages to keep this job afloat, with such crap intuition about people.

"Just pretty?"

"A knockout."

"So what'll make this knockout smell like you?"

"What?" He choked.

"If you 70s-serial-killer-style, hair sniffing weirdos need me to smell like you own me, or some fuss like that, for us not to get tossed out of this place, then what'll it take?"

The elevator rattled up passed the seventh floor.

Greg's eyes once again fell on my neckline, gliding all the way down to my chest. Goosebumps erupted in the wake of his gaze, and I felt the electric tendrils of a phantom kiss against the base of my neck. He sighed, and almost forlornly answered: "Nothing you deserve."

I shuddered.

Of course, he was a gentleman. Pity.

The elevator dinged. We had arrived. I could feel my pulse as I soothed the goosebumps on my neck. I expected Greg to maintain his distance, but he didn't, and instead was very suddenly beside me. The doors opened, and he placed his hand on the small of my back and gave me a gentle nudge.

Oh Grit. The bar was gorgeous. Sleek, glamourous. A twist of modern, with artful graffiti adorning the gray concrete walls, and a retro touch of 60s mod in the furniture. Velvet and soft light and jewel tones galore. Lush plants skillfully divided seating areas, which consisted of mostly golden sofas and turquoise armchairs and burgundy embroidered rugs.

Yeah, alright, fine, I wouldn't let me up here either.

Soft music echoed through the lounge. A familiar tune, though not one I could immediately place. I get knocked down. Catchy as heck. "I know this song," I said as Greg ushered me toward the bar.

A waiter in a black suit shot us a closed lipped smile, gesturing that he'd be with us in moment. He then delivered what looked like a martini to a couple on a sofa in the middle of the lounge. At least, I assumed them to be a couple. It sure would be an awkward first date, since a naked human guy appeared to be straddling an equally naked vampire guy's face as the vamp sucked on his throbbing femoral artery.

Greg noticed them too. "The aforementioned expectations," he whispered.

That was a narrow sofa, and I was impressed at the human's balance. I mean, clearly, he was enjoying himself. Clearly. You'd think he'd fall over or squash the vamp's face by now. But dang, those calf muscles held up, even as he was being drained.

"Pssh, that dude is having a great time. Don't tell me I don't deserve a good time!"

The feeding vamp caught my eye and hissed into his lover's thigh.

I gave him a thumbs up and turned away.

The distant song reached its chorus.

Pissing the night away.

"Oh pixie dust! Is this placeplaying Chumba Wumba?"