I mean, really. What guy could compete with that?

Especially in this little hick town.

“You don’t have to go,” Nicholas added. He was so still, I’d almost forgotten he was there. He smiled his serious smile. “If you stay, Lucy’s bad movie choices will be outnumbered. I might actually get to watch something other than a John Hughes or zombie movie.”

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “B movies are an art form.”

“Sorry.” I smiled back at him apologetically. I’d watched enough movies with Lucy to know some cute guy would be either shirtless or mangled to death in a deserted cabin in the woods. The one time I tried to get her to watch Pride and Prejudice, she hadn’t been able to sit still. Granted, it was the six-hour version, but come on. What’s not to love?

I went down the hall, hung with gilt-edged paintings of various Indian gods with multiple arms. My room was the same as the rest of the house: simple wooden furniture; a handmade quilt on the bed; and a clutter of carved wooden boxes, incense holders, and yoga magazines in baskets. There was even a macramé holder for the spider plant in the window. But there was lots of space for my books and nothing smelled like stale wine. It was nice. Even with Van Helsing’s doggy breath. He liked to follow me around.

It was also eight o’clock on a Friday night, and there was no reason in the world why I should be locked up while Lucy and Nicholas made out in the next room. I used to spend summers here roaming around with Lucy. I should be able to find my way even after all this time. After Dad died and Mom went to pieces, I wasn’t able to leave her alone for an entire summer. She’d have forgotten to eat or pay the rent or take out the garbage. And then our secret would have been out. It was just easier if I stayed home. And I didn’t usually think about this stuff. I just did what needed doing and got good grades so no teachers or social workers would notice us.

Maybe I hadn’t been to the mountains in a few years, but I didn’t believe for one minute that Violet Hill was so overrun with crime that I’d be in danger. As if there were a lot of hippie gangs roaming the streets, wearing hemp clothing and pushing organic fruit smoothies on unsuspecting bystanders. Please. I was from the city. I’d once taken the subway alone past midnight. Not smart, granted, but I think I can handle a hick mountain town.

But no need to rub anyone’s face in it. I’d just slip out my window, go for a walk, and come back before my aunt and uncle returned. I was even on the ground floor, so I wouldn’t have to shimmy down some tree. I tossed my book on the bed and put on my jacket and the black knee-high moccasins I’d found in the closet. They weren’t as badass as my combat boots, obviously, but I loved them. And they were quiet, so I wouldn’t give myself away clomping.

I pulled my window open, the cool October air ruffling the curtains. My room looked out over the backyard with the brick patio, the huge vegetable garden, and the twinkly fairy lights strung through the apple trees. Fields stretched out to the edge of the woods. I wouldn’t go into the dark forest; I couldn’t remember if there were bears or mountain lions around here. I was far more scared of that possibility than random violence in town.

I dropped my leg over the side and bent down, squeezing myself over the window frame. A nail caught my jeans as I dropped down into the grass, tearing them. At least they were already ripped at the knee. The stars were dizzying overhead. At home we were lucky to see the Big Dipper. But here stars were everywhere, seeming to fall into the forest or come out of the mountains. Inside my room, Van Helsing whined. I poked my head back in.

“Go out the doggy door in the back, dummy,” I told him. I snapped my fingers and pointed to the open bedroom door behind him. He licked my finger and then hurtled down the hall like an elephant. I turned around, grinning.

And then suddenly I was falling back against the house, a hand closed over my mouth, a tall, lean body pressing me into the wall. My heart thudded with that slow, sick rhythm of fear, like a wet drum being played. Clearly, I’d been wrong.

It really wasn’t safe out after dark.

“Don’t scream,” a male voice said, almost sheepishly. “Please?”

Now I was confused. He seemed my age, with dark hair and what my novels would call an “amiable manner.”

Even if he did have me trapped between his body and the bricks.

I tried to kick him, just out of principle. I wished I were wearing my steel-toed boots. He evaded me easily.

“I’m Connor Drake,” he said, as if that meant anything. “I’m Nicholas’s brother,” he elaborated when I didn’t look particularly comforted. I vaguely remembered playing with a herd of brothers when I was little. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “Really.”

“Then let go!” I screeched against his palm. It sounded more like “Thennmffllg!”

“Oh, sorry!” He dropped his hand. “Don’t yell, okay?”

“Not okay,” I shot back. “Are you nuts?”

Van Helsing charged around the corner, kicking up clumps of dirt and grass. I smirked at Connor. I hoped the dog bit him right in the ass. Instead, he sat on Connor’s foot and drooled.

I sighed, disgusted. “Honestly.”

Connor pet his head. “He knows me.”

“Well, I don’t,” I grumbled. “Do you always accost girls?”

“It’s not safe around here at night.”

I looked at him pointedly. “I’m getting that.”