Len was silent for a beat.
“Okay,” he said eventually. “Fine. Take my damned blood. But I swear if you try to pull a Bella Lugosi seduction routine on my neck, I am punching you in the face.”
I choked on nothing. A flash of genuine amusement crinkled the corners of Rans’ eyes, before his expression once more became a smooth mask.
“I think a wrist will suffice, thanks all the same,” he said.
Len grimly thrust an arm in his direction, his lips pressed tight.
“Don’t overdo it, okay?” I warned Rans. “Remember what happened the last time you were shot.”
He threw me a sideways glance as he took Len’s wrist in a light grip. “You are literally never going to let me live that down, are you?”
I just stared at him, until he shook his head ruefully.
“Not to worry, luv. I’ll only tap a pint or so from our mate here, and then I can pop back to the front office and make up the difference from the night manager. That should be enough to have me right as rain again before our guest arrives.”
“You make me sound like a keg of beer,” Len grumbled, tensing as Rans lifted his wrist closer to his fangs.
“Not at all. American blood is as good as any other blood. American beer, on the other hand, is universally shite,” Rans said, and bit him.
Len hissed in a breath and held it, relaxing by degrees when it became obvious that A) this wasn’t going to turn into a shark-like supernatural feeding frenzy, and B) it didn’t even hurt very much, all things considered.
“Doing all right?” I asked, trying my best not to be completely weirded out by the situation.
“Ask me again after I’ve had a chance to pinch myself and determine that this hasn’t all been a really bad acid flashback,” Len muttered through gritted teeth.
Rans pulled away, scoring the tip of his finger on a fang and using the resulting drops of blood to close the twin wounds.
“Don’t get your hopes up, mate.” He licked his lips. “Mmm. B-negative. Very nice.”
“Now you’re just trying to freak him out,” I accused.
His lips twitched. “Would I do such a thing?”
“Undead asshole,” Len muttered.
“Yep. For seven centuries and counting,” Rans agreed readily. “Now, lick that blood off your wrist. It’ll heal your split lip and the bruise on your face so you don’t have to try and explain them to anyone tomorrow.”
Len stared at the blood for only a moment before doing as he was told, albeit with a look of mild disgust on his face.
Rans nodded approval. “If you’re still sure about this, let’s go and get your man sorted out. Then you can both be on your way.”
Len’s expression went carefully blank, but he nodded. The three of us trooped back into the main room, where Tristan waited in exactly the same place Len had left him. I couldn’t lie—this aspect of Rans’ abilities still made my skin crawl. I’d never seen him misuse it like I’d seen the Fae misuse their influence over humans, but it was still an awful lot of power to hold over other people’s minds.
Rans stepped up to Tristan and brushed a fingertip beneath his chin, tipping his face up until their eyes met. Len shifted restlessly beside me.
The glow in Rans’ eyes flared icy blue, and his voice grew resonant. “Listen carefully, Tristan. You and Len went to the BDSM club, but you got bored, so you decided to leave early and go to a bar instead. You only had a couple of drinks, but the bartender must have made them too strong, because you started to feel dizzy and disorientated.”
Len pursed his lips, obviously taking mental notes so his story would jive with Tristan’s altered memories.
“Your boyfriend is going to take you home and put you to bed,” Rans continued. “You will sleep soundly, and when you wake up, you won’t remember much about what happened after you went to the fetish club. Aside from feeling tired and having a bit of a hangover, though, you’ll be fine. You will decide that there’s no need to speak with your doctor about the interaction of the alcohol with your medication. Instead, you’ll just avoid drinking more than a single glass at a time in the future. Do you understand?”
Tristan nodded agreeably, the dazed expression never leaving his face. Rans gave his shoulder a brief clasp and let him go, turning back to us.
“There you go, mate. He should be docile enough that you can get him home and clean him up without much trouble. If he asks about his missing shirt, tell him he threw up on it or something. Oh, and I don’t think I bled on your car’s back seat upholstery, but you might want to double check before he sees it, just in case.”
“Thank you,” Len said quietly.
I turned to Len and hugged him. “Thank you. I’m not kidding, Len. You’re a good friend, and I have no idea what I ever did to deserve you.”
He set me back gently. “You’re a nice girl, Zorah. And you used to compliment my steaks all the time, back at AJ’s. I’m damned glad you resurfaced after that shitshow with the police a few weeks ago, though I can’t say I ever expected anything like this.”
“I really am sorry all this happened,” I insisted.
Len blew out a breath. “No one I knew personally got killed. We didn’t even get arrested. So I’ve had worse nights, I guess. Now, are you two sure you want me to just leave you here? I could drop you someplace on the way back to the riverfront.”
“No,” Rans said. “Just go. We still have a meeting scheduled, and this is the best place for it.”
“We’re fine,” I agreed. “Get Tristan home and put him to bed.”
Len nodded slowly. “You said you still had my number,
