Until Vic.

He’d come, and like a knight in shining armor, he’d rescued her from all the annoying singing, dancing, and general enjoyment everyone was feeling, carrying her off into the wooded area around Novikov’s house.

She’d never been so grateful before. And yes, that included the time Novikov and MacRyrie saved her life. Getting shot was one thing, but being social and friendly was “a whole ’nother,” as her father used to say.

Finally, Vic stopped and placed her by a tree, the full moon giving their predator eyes enough light to see everything.

“Are you all right?” Vic asked, crouching in front of her.

Livy responded by throwing herself into his arms. “Thank God, you came!”

“How did this happen?”

“It was Blayne’s fault,” Livy couldn’t help but spit out. “Since we were going to miss her stupid bachelor and bachelorette party. As if I’d have gone to that little event in the first place.”

“You went to karaoke.”

Livy pulled back and relaxed against the tree. “That was your fault.”

“True.”

She let out a relieved breath, finally feeling free again. “Everything go okay?”

“Everything went fine.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re back.”

Vic sat down across from her. “I brought you something.”

She smiled. “Honey?”

“Don’t you have enough honey?”

“I kind of ate most of it while I was in the cabinet. Especially after I heard my mother shout, ‘Let’s do the hustle!’ Honestly, is my life not hard enough right now?”

“Apparently not.”

“So, what did you bring me then, if not honey? Diamonds? A fancy watch? A small child I can use as slave labor?”

“You don’t wear jewelry, so that takes out the diamonds and watches. And you don’t seem to like children unless they’re prodigies.”

“Stupid children bore me.”

“So I brought you this instead.” He placed a large paper bag with handles next to her. Livy dug into the bag and let out a sigh. She gazed at Vic a moment before saying, “You magnificent bastard.”

Vic watched her pull out the boxes, handling each one with a reverence he’d only seen from holy men at the Russian Orthodox church he’d visited in Moscow when he was trying to track down a contact.

Livy looked at everything for a very long time until she finally said, “You got me a camera.”

“The guy at the store said it was the best. Now, before you think, okay, they saw a sucker coming, Grigori recommended the store. And they knew Grigori recommended it, so they wouldn’t risk pissing him off.”

“Vic . . . I can’t take this. Itmust have cost you a fortune.”

“Grigori-friend discount, which apparently translates into fifty percent off. And after seeing the price tag . . . I’m very grateful for that fifty percent.” Again, Livy didn’t say anything for a very long time. “Is it okay? Because I’d kind of hate to take it back after the discount and all—”

“It’s perfect. It’s a pro camera. The best Nikon makes. One step above the one that got destroyed.”

“Good. I did remember your brand. Just not the model number or anything. If you want, you can put it together now and then go back to the party.”

Livy’s head came up and she looked at him. “Huh?”

“I know you hate crowds without your camera. Unless, of course,” he felt the need to add, “you’re jousting bears. Because you’re that ridiculous. And no, I’m not letting that go.”

“Fuck,” Livy said as she buried her face in her hands.

“What? What’s wrong?”

She looked at him. Actually, it was more of a scowl. She scowled at him.

“I’m in love with you,” Livy snapped. “And it’s your fucking fault.”

“Uh . . . sorry?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Well . . . if it makes you feel better, I’m in love with you, too.”

“As a matter of fact, it doesn’t make me feel better. Do you know why?”

“Not a clue.”

“Because love is a trap. Just ask my parents.”

“But your parents were divorced.”

“Several times, apparently. But no matter how many times they were divorced, they were always together. Why? Because they were madly in love. Like idiots.”

“Maybe that’s how they love. We’re different.”

“I am tainted by their bloodline.”

“You’re not tainted. I’m not tainted by my parents.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“I can’t saunter into a room and make everyone in there want to have sex with me or kill me like my mother. But I can have a conversation in a tone of voice that doesn’t travel through several states . . . unlike my father. And although you have a mean streak a mile wide just like your mother, you seem to only use it on Blayne. And like your father, you do seem to like a good fight, but you only seem to enjoy fighting Melly . . . and beehives. And to me that means we can love each other any way we want to. Even like normal people.”

“You mean normal people who have a mouthful of fangs and a prehensile tail.”

“You like my tail.”

“I also like my mouthful of fangs . . . that doesn’t make us normal.”