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“I’ll go.” He’s already pocketing his keys. “You stay here.”

“Not on your life.” I shrug off my coat and beanie, and toss them into the truck. I tip my head forward, whipping some lift into my hat hair, and march up to the club entrance. Whatever the dress code is for a nightclub in Fairbanks, it can’t be as uptight as the Meatpacking District. Nick catches up, radiating his objections with every long stride.

The bouncers don’t ask for my ID, and I wonder if things are a bit more lax in small cities or, the other horrifying thought, I don’t look young enough for an ID check anymore.

The club is dark and stuffy. Colored lights strobe in time with the thudding beat of a DJ behind a console wearing a giant fiberglass eagle’s head accented with fluorescent paint. This place is certainly popular with the college crowd.

“Anything?” I say into Nick’s ear.

He shakes his head. In a room this warm, with this many people, he might as well be human. I push through the sticky bodies to the bar, but don’t find Dominic there either.

Nick leans in and points to the second story floating above the dance floor. “Balcony.”

Dominic has his back against the railing, arm slung around a tall girl with vibrant red hair on one side, and a young guy drooling all over him on the other. He’s talking to a small group of worshipers like a celebrity preacher, practically glowing under their attention. Such a different version of the man I’ve only met a handful of times. This is his element.

The bartender nods in the direction of our target. “He doesn’t drink. Attention is his currency of choice if you’re wanting to get to the front of the line.” Thick black eyeliner and a black tank top to match, she has the air of a woman who’s spent a lifetime pouring beers for losers, yet she looks about Luca’s age. I wonder if she’s a vampire, and if there’s any way I can tell. She’s clocked us, though, which is not good when you’re trying to tail someone inconspicuously.

“Oh. He’s…” I can’t come up with a reason for staring at Dominic.

“Unfairly hot and charming?” she says.

“Right. So hot.”

Nick grumbles beside me. “Just admiring from afar. Give us two gin and tonics.”

She makes our drinks, and we find a table in the corner. Nick positions himself so he can see Dominic past me, and I make sure that the bartender has forgotten about us. My nerves ease as she serves other customers and doesn’t spare us a glance.

“He’s hot, is he?” Nick asks, mouth in a grim line.

“I mean, objectively, I suppose,” I start to say. “Wait. Nicky, are you jealous?”

“No,” he says gruffly, stirring his untouched drink with the straw.

I snort-laugh. Adorable. Instead of reassuring him, I decide to let him wallow in his insecurity and show him later that I’m only interested in one particular vampire.

“He’s on the move.” Nick watches Dominic until he crosses my eye line with the redheaded girl attached to his arm and an entourage in his wake, leaving the club.

The bartender is watching us again. I look past her and fix my attention on Nick, who’s readying to leave.

“Wait.” I take a lazy sip of my drink and reach over to pull him closer. He gets it. Two steps, and he’s standing between my knees, one hand tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. He leans down and kisses me so thoroughly I forget what we even came here for.

“Is she still watching?” he says into my hair.

“Nope. We’re good.” I slip my arm through the crook of his elbow and lean into him, giggling like a drunk girl who’s about to get lucky.

We stumble out onto the frozen sidewalk, but it’s deserted, except for the two bouncers stationed by the door. We walk down to the lot where Dominic parked, and there’s an empty space where his car was.

Nick turns on the spot. “He’s gone.”

“Was the bartender a vampire?”

“I don’t think so, but it can be hard to tell in spaces that crowded. Too many smells, and the noise makes it difficult to listen for a heartbeat.” He takes my hand as we make our way back to his truck. “You should stay at my place until we get to the bottom of this.”

Nick tails Dominic alone the next night and delivers his report at five in the morning, standing in his kitchen while I eat a bowl of Apple Jacks.

Dominic was on call at the fire station. Nick watched him, lurking in the shadows, which I choose to imagine as him in a trench coat and a newspaper with the eyes cut out. At the end of his shift, Dominic drove home to the ultra-modern house he apparently built himself in a clearing past the edge of town. Nick scouted the perimeter twice.

“And?”