“It’s not that. It’s just—” Forget it, she decided. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.” By which she meant, never, if she could swing another ride home.

Keith said, “Sure thing!” as he started jogging back toward the library. Obviously he was completely unconcerned whether she stayed with him or not. Why shouldn’t he be? She didn’t care any more than he did. For him, she was just his excuse to come to the dance; for her, he was just proof that somebody out there might eventually want her, even if Balthazar didn’t.

Balthazar did want her, though. She knew that. The memory of the two hungry kisses they’d shared rippled through her. Skye had thought if she pulled back, she’d stop longing for him, but her longing had only become sharper. She wanted him to ride beside her, to make dry comments in study hall, to spar with her until she was breathing fast and her heart pumped wildly—Skye missed both everything they’d had and everything they should have had.

Give me More, she thought, but the joke fell flat even in her own head.

She wanted to walk back onto the dance floor. Being watched by Balthazar was hotter than being held by Keith. And she’d chosen this dress, these nude shoes, her hair, her makeup, everything, thinking only of how Balthazar would feel when he saw her.

But her walking back out there alone would look like she was begging him to notice her again, or to take that next step, and she wouldn’t beg. Also, she’d be all by herself in front of Craig and Britnee; she was doing better with that, but not better enough to let them see her apparently ditched by her date for the evening.

Maybe she could just walk through quickly, go to the door, and snag a ride with somebody who was leaving, like couples were starting to do…

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and Skye turned to see Redgrave standing next to her. “Shall we dance?”

She gasped and started backing away, but Redgrave made no immediate move to follow. He was as debonair as ever—dark gold hair immaculately slicked back, his suit a deep tan that matched his skin. His attire was appropriate for the occasion, complete with elegantly knotted cream silk tie at his throat. His hazel eyes looked less like those of a human and more like those of a wolf.

“I’ll scream,” Skye managed to say. “Someone will come.”

“Someone will. One of your dear school chums, I suppose. It makes no difference to me, because whoever runs through that door first will be the next person I kill. Do you really want blood on your hands?”

“You won’t kill them if it’s Balthazar. He’s here.” Though she knew better how to defend herself now, she also knew exactly how much of a chance she stood against Redgrave on her own.

“I realize that. But we don’t want to drag him into this, do we? Or take the chance that he won’t be first through the door?” He smiled at her gently and gave her a quick, courtly half bow. “I only asked for a dance, my dear. And, of course, for that conversation you owe me. You don’t seem at all the type to break her word.”

Skye had made that promise to save Balthazar’s life, but she’d envisioned Redgrave finding her in Café Keats again or some other neutral ground. Not here, in a half-lighted hallway, when she was all alone.

Balthazar’s on the other side of the door, she reminded herself. Stay here so that if anything happens, you can scream or run for it. This is as good a place as any to get this over with. “All right. If you want to talk, talk.”

“I also want to dance.”

“I didn’t promise you a dance.”

Redgrave laughed softly. “But you want to dance, too, don’t you?”

The strangest sensation settled over her—not real emotions, but a weird sort of echo of love and desire. Skye could almost feel the weight of it, light but inescapable, like a shroud. She found herself lifting her arms into dancing position, and Redgrave smoothly slipped into her unwilling embrace.

“What are you doing to me?” she managed to say.

“A very few of us can do this. It takes a thousand years or so to age into the gift, but when it comes, ah, everything becomes so much easier. The effect doesn’t usually last long—so don’t worry, you’ll be repelled by me again soon enough.” Redgrave began to sway back and forth with her. “Evolution works for all creatures, you know. Not just the living. And nothing says ‘survival of the fittest’ like the ability to hypnotize your prey into remaining still just long enough to be bitten.”

He’s going to bite me! Skye wanted to pull away, but her body didn’t obey. She just kept dancing, a marionette to his will. “You get one conversation. Use it.”

He ran his cool fingers down her spine, pausing just long enough to dip his fingers in slightly beneath the back of her dress. “You should join me. If you don’t, you’ll regret it. I mean that sincerely. You’ve proved to be a resourceful and courageous girl—and quite a lovely one, if I may say so.” Redgrave dropped a kiss on her shoulder, which made her want to shove him away with all her strength. His hold on her remained fast.

At least she could still speak the words she wanted. “One, I’m not joining you. I don’t want to be a vampire. And two, get your hands off me.”

“After this dance,” Redgrave promised, as his hands shifted lower on her back and pulled her close so that their bodies were pressed against each other. “I told you before, my dear. Joining me doesn’t mean becoming a vampire. There’s no saying whether your miraculous blood would still have its power after the change, which means I’m not willing to take the risk.”