Quinn didn’t look away from me once during the whole exchange. I raised an eyebrow.

“Shouldn’t you be tucked away safely in your little bed?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a red velvet jacket and talking with a bad European accent?” I shot back.

“Are you really from Europe?” the first girl asked, misunderstanding. She ran her finger along his collar. “Do you live in a castle?”

I snorted and turned away, taking my shot glass off the sticky counter. Quinn’s hand closed lightly around my wrist.

“You’re not legal,” he said, nodding at the Kahlua.

“My ID says differently,” I assured him with a bland smile. I wasn’t about to tell him that the drink was just for show. I needed to appear drunk. Appear being the operative word, because a drunk hunter was a dead hunter.

He leaned in, tucking my hair behind my ear and whispering so that only I could hear. His girlfriends frowned. Three guys and a girl near the band seemed suddenly interested in us.

“Where do you keep a stake in a dress like that?”

I angled my head to whisper back, half smiling. “Strapped to my thigh.”

He drew back sharply, blue eyes burning. I smirked and flounced away. I could feel him watching me the entire way back to my table. The others had gotten their Cokes already and they drank them slowly, looking relaxed. Only I knew each of them had stakes inside their jackets, Hypnos in their sleeves, and blades in the soles of their boots.

I tossed back my shot with a flourish. I could hardly convince a vampire I was drunk if he couldn’t smell alcohol on my breath.

Spencer frowned at me. “You know how you get when you drink,” he said loudly.

I shrugged, laughed. “I’m just having fun. You should try it sometime.” Under my breath I added, “The group by the stage, possibly two guys who went up to the second floor.” I reached for the whiskey sour he’d left on the table, surreptitiously spilling most of it on the table.

“How many shots have you had?” Jason demanded.

“Just the one. Don’t be such a spoilsport. God.” I stumbled, just a little. Jason opened my purse and took out the three shot glasses I’d slipped in there before leaving. He made a big production of tossing them on the table and looking disgusted. I just laughed and prayed Quinn was too far away, too distracted by the pretty girls throwing themselves at him, to notice me.

“You promised you wouldn’t drink,” Chloe said.

“You guys are lame,” I said, too loudly. A few heads turned our way. Chloe hid a gleam of satisfaction behind a fake worried scowl. I twirled away. “I’m going to dance if you’re all going to be such boring old ladies.”

This was the part I hated the most: dancing by myself like an idiot.

But it worked every time.

I twirled and shook my hips and giggled when I tripped into someone leaning against the amps. He caught me easily, smiling. His hands were cold, his eyes a pale hazel.

Vampire.

“I’m so sorry,” I simpered at him.

“That’s okay,” he replied, still holding onto my arm. He was good, I’d give him that. His expression was open and guileless. He successfully avoided the silky menace that was always such a dead giveaway. With his blond hair and white T-shirt he looked like a local college student, the athletic sort with lots of interesting arm muscles and strong shoulders. Just the type a drunk underage high school student would flirt with.

I hated flirting.

“Thanks for catching me,” I said, stepping closer. “My name’s Amber.”

“Of course it is.” I pretended not to understand what he meant by that. “It’s a very pretty name.”

Ha.

“Your friends appear to be ditching you,” he added. His own friends pressed closer. I turned my head to see Chloe and the others leaving.

I pouted. “They’re no fun.”

He was still holding on to my elbow. “We were just leaving too. They’re shutting the doors in half an hour but there’s a party down the street.” He drew his hand down my arm. “Want to come with us, Amber?”

Gotcha, you undead bastards.

I bit my lip, tilted my head. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Matthew.” He nodded to his friends. “That’s Nigel, Paul, Sam, and Belinda.”

There were a lot of teeth suddenly gleaming at me. The smiles were calculating. Amber, fictional though she might be, would have found them charming and fun. So I smiled back.

“Okay, I guess.” The music pulsed between us. “Is it far?”

“Not at all.” His hand moved to my lower back, pressing me forward and out the door. I had just enough time to glance at the bar. Quinn was gone.

Outside, the wind had cooled. Litter skittered along the curb. Matthew led us down the street, toward the dark alleys, away from the pubs and restaurants, just as we’d planned. I hesitated.

“Come on,” he said. “I thought you wanted to have some fun.”

Nigel laughed. “Yeah, Amber, don’t wimp out on us now.”

I shrugged and let them convince me. The others would be positioned around the old glass factory. Jenna would likely be on a rooftop somewhere. We turned a corner, effectively shielding us from the parts of town still inhabited to the stretch of abandoned warehouses. Our footsteps echoed. The streetlights were dim.

Amber was an idiot.

But Chloe was a bigger idiot.