"Vanda," a deep, gravelly voice spoke behind her.

With a start, she turned to find Hugo. "What? Then who—"

He rested a beefy hand on her shoulder. "I need to talk to you."

"Not now!" She pulled away from him and shoved her way through the crowd. She stopped with a gasp.

Max was flat on his back with Phil sitting on top of him. Phil's fists were planted on the floor on each side of the ex-dancer, and in them he gripped a silver chain that was stretched across Max's chest. The chain not only pinned Max to the floor, but it prevented the Vamp from teleporting away.

Vanda stared at them for several seconds. No wonder the crowd was whispering in amazement. It was practically unheard of for a mortal to be quick enough to catch a vampire and strong enough to hold one down.

On the floor, at her feet, a long dagger gleamed in the dim light. Good Lord. A shudder skittered down her spine. If Max had stabbed her in the heart, she'd be a pile of dust right now. Somehow, Phil had managed to disarm him. Phil had saved her life. And he didn't even look winded.

He glanced up at her and smiled.

Her knees nearly buckled.

The girls behind her sighed.

"What pretty eyes," one of them whispered.

Vanda's grip tightened on the whip, and she stifled an urge to snarl at the girls. But what could she possibly say? Hands off, he's mine? She had no claim to him.

She glanced away, irked with herself for succumbing to jealousy and being so easily flustered by a man's smile and pretty blue eyes. Her frustration flared into anger when she spotted her three dancers watching the scene from behind the bar. Those spineless cowards.

Hugo grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the crowd. "Vanda, I have to talk to you. It's about that mortal."

"I know," she spoke with gritted teeth. "He's incredibly strong and handsome. You want to join the fan club?"