I wasn’t fooled. “It’s a glorified dorm room, isn’t it?”

“If by ‘glorified,’ you mean it has a private bathroom, then yes.” Johnny sniffed, affecting annoyance. “Something I sacrificed when I moved in here.”

I’d had to forfeit my home’s vampire defenses three weeks before to save a friend’s life and Johnny had temporarily moved into the third-floor attic room—for protection purposes only. The defenses had been reinstated, but he’d remained. He being the epitome of “tall, dark, and handsome,” I hadn’t complained.

“C’mon.” Johnny’s deep blue eyes glittered seductively. His voice dropped low. “Nothing’s more romantic than a bachelor pad.”

We’d both had a hell of an evening. Words like “hectic” or “demanding” didn’t begin to cover it. But evidently I was the only one suffering from fatigue.

His band, Lycanthropia, had played at the Hallowe’en Ball. Johnny was the vocalist and guitarist for the techno-goth-metal band and he’d given his all on stage. He should have been as exhausted as I was.

Of course, I’d made quite an effort on that stage, too. I’d fought and killed a fairy in front of hundreds of witnesses, who’d applauded afterward thinking it part of the Hallowe’en show.

Killer fairies and rock’n’roll: that was only a small part of what we’d dealt with this evening.

“Do you honestly want to show me your apartment now?”

“My one bulb is burned out so there’s not much you’d actually see.” His lean-muscled arms slid around me. I felt so grounded and safe in his embrace. “But I promise, what you feel will make up for it.”

What Johnny wanted was crystal clear, and so was the reason he thought going elsewhere was a good idea. I’d already mentioned my fears about the rest of the household learning we were intimate, so he was trying to keep the secret. At his apartment we could have assured privacy and we wouldn’t have to retire to separate bedrooms as we had to here. Cuddling and sleeping together after sex would have been nice.