Chapter 1

Standing next to Mindy in the elevator, I wished I'd said no and stayed home. My idea of the perfect birthday celebration was pajamas, pizza, whiskey and coke, and a Lord of the Rings marathon. Not the club scene.

I knew I was too young to be this jaded about college nightlife, but I couldn't help it. The party scene simply felt old and tired.

Maybe it was because I was an old soul, as Dad always told me. Maybe it was because I'd suffered a tragic loss at a young age, making the pastime of drinking till you drop seem rather a waste of time. Or maybe I just didn't want to sweat out the night in a packed club while strange guys groped me.

Either way, it didn't matter. I loved my best friend, and she'd refused to let me sit home on my birthday like I'd wanted to. So here I was.

I glared down at her since I was about a foot taller. She beamed back with a syrupy-sweet smile.

"Oh, come on, Gen. Don't be so grumpy. Tonight, I want you to relax. Nothing else to worry about. Just have fun."

Her baby blues pleaded with me to loosen up.

"Nothing to worry about," I exhaled a deep breath on a semi-smile. "Fun. Got it."

"Awesome. Now let's go celebrate!"

We were total opposites in just about every way. She was petite, slender, and tan. I had inherited my height and dark hair from my dad. But my milk-pale skin and ice-blue eyes came from my mother.

"Stop brooding," muttered Mindy.

"I'm not."

Right before the elevator doors opened, Mindy shifted and glanced sideways under long lashes. A telltale sign of guilt I recognized from our long friendship.

"What? What did you do?"

"Nothing," she protested too innocently. "Just that I forgot to mention that Steven is coming with us."

The elevator dinged. The door opened.

"You did not set me up on a date tonight," I grated out.

"No, I promise! Not a date. He just wanted to come along. As a friend. That's all."

I eyed her with suspicion. "Whatever. But I am not on a date. This is my night, remember?"

"Yes, of course!"

She hooked her arm through mine as we entered the lobby of her mother's upscale New Orleans condo. I was still surprised by what an unemployed divorcee could afford, but then there was always an endless stream of wealthy men in this city willing to bestow treasures on attractive, charming women.

We waltzed into the lobby, arm in arm, clip-clopping across white marble to a set of gold brocade sofas. Her boyfriend, Dazzling Dave, jumped up along with his buddy, Slippery Steve. Monikers I gave them and kept to myself so that it wouldn't hurt Mindy's feelings.

"Ladies, ladies. You two look divine."

He gave us his signature smile, beaming his super-straight and over-bleached teeth. Yet again, I longed for my pj's and Jim Beam and Viggo Mortensen.

"Hi, David," Mindy gushed, instantly gluing herself to his side.

Steven stepped up, eyeing me from top to toe. "Hello, Gen. You look awesome. Ready to celebrate?"

"Hey, Steven. Thanks. Ready as I'll ever be."

I tried not to grind my teeth as we pushed through the glass doors into the night. Steven and I had a failed blind date nearly a month ago. I hadn't realized that watching a Will Ferrell comedy in the dark was a contact sport—not until I went out with Slippery Steve.

The ride downtown from the Garden District in David's convertible definitely lightened my mood. Cool night air hinted at autumn. Canal Street buzzed with life. Neon lights blazed from one end to the other, highlighting everything from liquor stores to Commander's Palace.

Partygoers laughed, sauntered, and half stumbled along the sidewalks. The din of honking horns chorused energy and life. I had no idea where we were going. Mindy had kept it all hush-hush, wanting to surprise me.

The New Orleans business district bustled during the daytime, but now the streets were near empty. All the shops and offices stood dark and closed. David parallel parked on a side street, folding the top up with a click on the dash.

"Let's go, ladies."

"Come on, Gen!" Mindy squealed as she scooted out.

I smoothed down my dark hair, unable to keep from laughing at her enthusiasm. "I take it you're excited?"

"You're going to love this place. Promise."

One block over, David led us down a few steps into a basement club underneath a fluorescent-green sign reading Tartarus. A broad, beefy guy took my license at the door, scanning it without expression. He blinked twice, then handed it back to me, saying in a monotone voice, "Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Sunshine." I gave him my brightest smile.

His mouth quirked at the corners, then straightened again to a grim line. I loved throwing people off-balance.

Mindy pulled me, literally, bouncing into the club. The beat pumped right through my body, vibrating to my bones. Laser lights flicked and twisted around the room, pulsing to the rhythm of the house music. While Tweedledee and Tweedledum went for drinks, I pulled Mindy out to the dance floor.

Making our way through the throng to the middle of the dance floor, Mindy and I moved our bodies to the rhythm pulsating around us. I loved this feeling of elation when I relaxed my inhibitions. I spent so much of my time behaving calm and controlled at school and at work, but here, I could let loose and dance with my best friend.

No matter that we were crushed between sweaty bodies reeking of cigarette smoke, hard liquor, and musky cologne—I felt free. I laughed. Mindy threw her head back and laughed with me.

A tall, sandy-haired guy beelined for us. He passed Mindy and started dancing behind me. Why is it that every Timberlake-wannabe thinks he can grind on a girl when she's having a perfectly good time dancing without him?

I maneuvered closer to Mindy, rolling my eyes so he couldn't see. She smirked with a sympathetic tilt of the head, but the guy was not taking the hint. He put his hands on my hips, pressing even closer. I restrained myself from kneeing him in the balls, wanting to keep my birthday as trouble-free as possible.

"No thanks." I pushed his hands away.

By some divine fortune, he didn't put them back but leaned close, warm breath on my ear.

"You're really hot."

I nodded. "Yeah, you're right. It's really hot. Need something to drink."

I pointed toward the bar, pulling Mindy along with me. A quick glance back at the gyrating boy had me stumped. He stood perfectly still, staring after us as if confused. Then something weird sent a shiver down my spine.

A sinister red gleam flickered in his eyes before I turned away, a weird reflection of lights or something. Still, it unnerved me. When I glanced back from the bar, he had started dancing with another unlucky girl.

"Creeper!" yelled Mindy in my ear.

"Appletini for you." David passed Mindy a glass of green liquid. "And rum and coke for the birthday girl."

"Thanks," I said, not complaining that it was bourbon and coke that I liked, not rum.

Mindy and I were still underage, but that didn't stop most of the young-adult world stuck in that purgatory between eighteen and twenty-one. Honestly, who came up with the law to allow college students to enter a bar at eighteen but not be served alcohol? For once, I'd love to see an undercover police officer shut down one of these clubs, flashing his badge and attempting to arrest the vast number of underage drinkers allowed into the place.

"Happy Birthday!" screamed Mindy over the music and clinked her martini glass to my tumbler.

I smiled back as we took a drink. Steven grinned at me too widely, and I don't know why. It's not like one drink would suddenly make him attractive to me. He wasn't bad looking; he was simply unappealing in personality.

I leaned back against the bar, propping my elbows up behind me. Scanning the scene, my eyes passed by a corner, then did a double-take, zoning in on a tall figure in the shadows on the other side of the dancefloor. The flashing lights streaked over him then plunged him into the dark.

Hitching in a breath, I couldn't look away from his silhouette. He stood against the far wall, still and watchful. Dark jeans, black button-down, crossed arms and a broodingly handsome face fixed directly on…me.

Never before had my heart leapt into my throat. I tried to swallow, to make it go back into my chest where it belonged. To no avail, mind you.

"Here, beautiful." Steven handed me another drink when I'd barely finished the first.

"Thanks," I muttered with a tight smile.

Mindy cozied up to Dave, whispering something in his ear. Steven was saying something to me, but I didn't hear him. I couldn't take my eyes off the dark figure across the room.

The music pumped hard and loud, wavering between old-school classics and modern tunes. Mindy suddenly squealed with delight. I knew why without asking. The Cure's song "Fascination Street" started thrumming all around us.

As much of a Barbie Doll as she was, Mindy had an eclectic taste in music, and anything by The Cure required complete adoration. Taking my drink with me, I followed her back onto the floor, squeezing through the sweaty bodies.

Unfortunately, Steven did too. Persistence—I suppose that is a virtue in some people. Right now, it was just annoying. I sipped on my drink to avoid talking to him and moved to the slow beat.

Mindy and David shuffled off together, locked in an embrace. I feigned interest, pretending to listen to Steven yammer about who-knows-what, but all I wanted was to peer behind him and try to get a better look at the enigmatic stranger in the shadows.

He hadn't moved, still watching from his solitary post. I couldn't see if his gaze was on me, but I could feel it. His eyes glinted with an eerie light as the lasers flashed across the club. Again, an ominous sensation washed through me, tapping on my psyche to look around and listen. To beware.

Shit!Here came sandy-haired gyrating boy again, more earnest than ever. His hands found my hips, quickly moving south.

"Back off!" I shouted over the music, elbowing him in the ribs.

Not too hard, but hard enough to make the average guy get the hint. He didn't.

"Dude, did you hear her? Back off!" Steven stepped in.

For once, I was thankful he was present. Steven grabbed the guy's shoulder, but Sandy-hair pushed Steven so hard he fell through the crowd into the DJ's stage.

Other dancers sidestepped and turned back to their partners, probably thinking him drunk. Sandy-hair swiveled to me. A cold expression shuddered across his face.

I stepped back, but he caught my wrist in an unbreakable grip and yanked me hard against his chest, knocking my drink to the floor, and pinning my arms under his. He grinned.

Primal fear bloomed in my chest. Something was very wrong here. Like earlier, a flash of red skimmed across his eyes.

Was I already tipsy?

"Let her go," a deep voice rumbled directly behind me.

Sandy-hair tore his gaze from mine. One glance at the deep-voiced person over my shoulder, and shock skittered over his expression. Or was it fear? He bared his teeth like a cornered animal, then let me go, backing away toward the exit of the club.

I twisted around, looking up, way up, into the face of the dark stranger standing a head taller than me. I was five-eight and wearing boots. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black, and he wore an unreadable expression set in harsh lines.

I couldn't form a coherent thought, much less a sentence. From far away, he was stunning. Up close, I couldn't even breathe. He gazed down at me for what seemed like an eternity while lights and music pumped around us. Captivating. Hypnotizing.

Was he putting me under some spell? Why couldn't I think straight? My mouth hung agape as I tried to regain composure.

Finally, he spoke. "Are you all right?"

No, I was not okay.

"Yes. I'm fine," I whispered, clearing my throat.

Suddenly, it was sweltering in here. Where was that drink?

I checked him out while he seemed to be doing the same to me. He appeared to be somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties, but something in those dark depths made him seem so much older.

His olive skin reminded me of warmer climates, somewhere far away from here. Wavy dark brown hair hung loosely across his forehead and to the nape of his neck. He hadn't shaved recently. My fingers curled into my hand at the thought of touching his scruffy yet sharp jawline.

I realized I was staring, no, gawking at him. A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. Without saying anything else, he pivoted and headed for the exit. Which was quite a pleasant view, I might add.

By this time, Steven was back at my side, scowling.

"Where's that dude? I'm gonna smash his face in!"

Yeah. Whatever.

I couldn't figure out exactly what had just happened. But I was glad the dark stranger had shown up, for more than one reason.

There was something very wrong with Sandy-hair. Maybe he was on drugs. Molly—MDMA—could make people very touchy-feely, or so I was told. The way he glared at me, the sheer menace in those strange-colored eyes—disturbing, to say the least. He could've been on a bad trip.

I waved the bartender over and downed another drink the moment it was in my hands, trying to chill out. Glancing back at the dance floor, I saw David practically carrying Mindy toward the bar with a rip in her jeans at the knee.

"Mindy! What happened?"

"Fell and twisted it." She winced with each step. I pulled up a stool.

"Let me go get the car," said David. "I'll pull it around."

"No," Mindy whined in her lilting drunk voice. "Stay with me." She hooked her arm tighter around his neck. One too many appletinis.

"I'll go." I set my glass on the bar. "Wait here."

Mindy grabbed my arm. "Sorry." She pouted with glazed eyes. "Didn't mean to ruin your birthday."

"You didn't." I smiled, eager to get home and end this shitshow of a night. "Be right back."

"I'll come with you." Steven took David's keys and followed me. We pushed through the crowd toward the entrance, passing by big-and-beefy at the door.

"Later, Sunshine," I called with a wave.

He nodded with a thin smile. Not a soul walked the street. I found it sort of strange to have a bar located in the more industrial end of town. But it was an eccentric place. Maybe that's what they were going for. Exclusivity, to make it more appealing.

A gust of wind whooshed by, lifting my hair. I wrapped my arms around myself as we angled down the side street toward the car.

"You cold?" asked Steven behind me.

"No." But something made me shiver. "You have the keys?"

"Yeah, right—"

I heard the keys jingle and fall to the pavement, then a thump. I spun to find Steven slumped against the wall. Unconscious. Before I could register what happened, my body was slammed up against the brick wall behind me. Pinned in place by none other than Sandy-hair, his hand grasping and squeezing my throat.

"Keep still." Voice low and gravelly. "Don't scream."

How could I, of all people, get myself into a vulnerable position? I knew how to fend off an attack in a hundred different ways, but he already had me in such a tight grip.

He crushed me against the wall, choking the life out of me. Staring up at him, I hoped to memorize his face for a police report later. If there was a later. Spots hazed my vision, though I definitely recognized those hate-filled eyes, blazing blood-red down at me. What the hell?

"Such a pretty one." A guttural murmur. "Such a shame to have to kill you."

Kill me? What!

I squirmed, trying to pull free, raking my nails on his arms then gouging at his wrists. Useless. He didn't budge, didn't even flinch.

A sinister hissing laugh in my ear. Lightheaded. Dark spots at the corner of my vision. I couldn't see anything anymore as my limbs felt light. I drifted. I thought how sad my father would be that I died in such a violent way as I slipped further into oblivion. I thought of my mother.

Suddenly, I gulped air back into my lungs. I was free of him, sliding down the wall, feeling my way along the cold brick behind me. A dark shape loomed, grappling with my attacker.

Finally catching my breath, chest still heaving, I shifted my focus to see a shadowed figure lifting my would-be killer by the throat off the ground, holding him mid-air. His words confused me even more.

"Stop human-hopping and come out to play."

I knew that deep voice from the dance floor. The dark stranger. Sandy-hair held on to my would-be hero's arms. He laughed that wicked laugh again.

"Make me," he hissed.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

The stranger placed his free hand on my attacker's forehead, still holding him aloft. He whispered something I couldn't hear.

Sandy-hair screamed in agony. His body blurred. A second head twisted, separated from the first.

What the fuck?

The second one was malformed and hideous with deep-set eyes, no nose at all, and gnashing fangs. The stranger pulled the monstrous head, slowly ripping a writhing, ghastly creature from inside Sandy-hair, letting the human host slump to the pavement.

The monster screeched and hissed as my dark rescuer chanted inaudible words. Tiny hairs on my arms rose with a rippling chill. An aura of flickering golden light swept wide above his head and shoulders, beaming off his back.

I rubbed my eyes, certain that I'd been slipped some mind-altering drugs in the club. He whispered more vehemently, words I couldn't quite hear in another language, though they sounded familiar.

The creature screamed, twisted, unable to free itself. The size of a small child with bony, spindly limbs and gnashing teeth, the thing beat and scratched and clawed the air. I heard the final words of the creature's captor, his aura flickering like a wisp of flame.

"Go back to hell."

In a bright flash of reddish-gold light, the beast disintegrated into smoke and powdery black ash. A strange smell—sulfuric, acidic—wafted into the air, leaving a metallic taste on my tongue.

My rescuer dusted his hands off on his jeans, totally calm and collected. He sighed, walked over to Sandy-hair, and checked his pulse. A sharp nod, then he walked toward me, where I still sat against the wall, wondering if I was dreaming or having some incredibly realistic nightmare.

Squatting in front of me, he lifted my chin, examining my throat.

"How do you feel?"

I blinked, trying to ignore the heated sensation of his touch on my skin and wondering if I'd truly lost my mind.

"Well, I was nearly choked to death, and I just saw you pull a monster out of another man, then use some voodoo-mojo or something to crush it into dust." I stopped to cough, rubbing my throat, my voice raspy. "I'm feeling fine. How are you?"

I knew I should be a little less snarky to the guy who just saved my life, but what an insane question. His extremely distracting lips lifted into a smile.

"Better, then." He grinned. "Good."

He had some sort of accent, but I couldn't place it. I took advantage of our proximity to examine him closer. Above his top button, below his collarbone, I could see the black etchings of a tattoo.

I recognized the Celtic interlacing from my mother's artwork. The tattoo must be huge, and I wanted so much to see the fine details. He reached out his hand and pulled my necklace out from underneath my shirt, his fingertips brushing my collarbone. I sucked in a sharp breath.

The action surprised me as he moved farther into my personal space.

"Can I help you?"

He observed the medal dangling on the chain. "St. George. The dragon slayer." One dark eyebrow lifted in a question.

"My mother gave it to me."

"She is a smart woman."

"Was," I corrected.

Those midnight eyes gazed directly into mine, searching. "I'm sorry."

Sorrow whirled in those depths. I felt overheated again being so near him. My heart hammered away. He hovered so close, too close, just staring at me like…like what? He seemed to be trying to solve a puzzle. Finally, I found my voice.

"Thank you." I swallowed, my throat tight. Glancing at Sandy-hair, still unconscious, I nodded toward him. "What was that thing? The thing inside him?"

"A lower demon. A rogue, apparently. Why would he want to kill you?"

"A what? Are you kidding me?"

He shook his head once. "Not a joke, I'm afraid. I don't understand why he wanted to kill you."

His voice was so calm, so normal. A lower demon nearly killed me, and he was playing paranormal detective. What was a lower demon? And what did that make my rescuer?

Steven stirred nearby. I'd forgotten all about him.

"Your boyfriend is unharmed. However, he'll have a headache."

"He is not my boyfriend," I enunciated very, very clearly.

Another ghost of a smile crossed his face. My insides melted into a pile of goo.

"Come. Your friends will worry."

He offered his hand and lifted me up. His hand enveloped mine, warm and rough with calluses. I needed to let go, suddenly overwhelmed by the sensation of his touch, his nearness.

I was never overwhelmed. I was Genevieve Drake, the epitome of calm and collected. Steven moved again. Damn him.

Then the stranger did something I'd never expected. He lifted my hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss along my knuckles. His lips lingered, spreading warmth from my hand to my arm and throughout the rest of my body.

What an old-fashioned gesture. I shivered. Not from the cold. His eyes never left mine.

"Happy birthday." He let my hand slip from his.

What? How did he know? Unable to hold his gaze any longer, I glanced down, chanting a brief mantra in my head. Get—it—together. I took a deep, shaky breath, finally summoning the courage to ask for his number.

When I looked up, he was gone.