Outside, I slumped against the hood of my Honda and gazed up at the sky. Nightfall came quickly in winter. It was almost fully dark and the stars were beginning to emerge between a scattering of clouds.

Closing the door to the bar behind him, Cooper shuddered with relief. “What the fuck was that all about, Miss Daisy?”

“I was angry,” I murmured. “And I did something stupid.”

“Do you reckon?” Cooper regarded me with dilated pupils, his breath frosting in the cold air. “You were lucky. Damned lucky. Rafe only brought that stun gun in today after last night’s fracas. If we hadn’t had it . . .” He let his words trail off. “Well, you were lucky. Don’t you ever try anything like it again, hear me? The big man won’t let us get the jump on him twice.”

There were words I should say, but I couldn’t think of what they were. I clutched my battered leather messenger bag to my chest. Cody had made it for me. Cody. I’d been angry at Cody.

Why? It didn’t seem important now.

I tried to string the evening’s events together in my mind. Yes, I’d been mad at Cody. I’d provoked Stefan, and Stefan had attacked me. Stefan had attacked me, and Cooper had rescued me.

Oh, and there had been Rafe with the Taser, too. I hoped Stefan was okay. It hadn’t been his fault.

“I’m sorry,” I said carefully, thinking, yes, those were the right words. “Thank you?”

Cooper sighed. “Can you drive?”

Drive? I looked around for my car.

“Never mind.” He jerked open the passenger door. “Get inside.” Oh, right. I was leaning on my car. I got in obediently, looking up at Cooper. “I’ll call someone,” he said. “I’d drive you myself, but . . .” He glanced toward the bar. “It’s going to take some doing to restrain himself in a fit of ravening. Can you wait here like a good girl?”

I could do that. “Yes.”

“All right, then.” Cooper paused, his eyes gleaming in the light of the beer signs that adorned the Wheelhouse’s windows, filled with neon and regret. He looked older, much older, than the seventeen years he’d been when he was made Outcast. “And here I thought you and the big man would be good for each other.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“Stay here.” He closed the passenger door. “Wait.”

Staring straight ahead, I waited.

It was probably ten minutes later that Lurine’s sleek black Town Car glided into the parking lot and pulled into a space beside my Honda, though it could have been longer. It could have been an hour or hours. I wouldn’t have known the difference or cared. The here and now was all that mattered. There was some kind of ruckus going on inside the bar, but I didn’t care about that, either. Cooper had told me to wait, so I waited, clutching my bag in my lap.

Lurine emerged from the back of the Town Car, opened the door opposite me, and slid into the driver’s seat, regarding me with a stony look. “I warned you about this, baby girl.”

The hollowness inside me cracked open to admit a tendril of fear. Lurine had warned me about dating Stefan, and said . . . what? Oh, yes. She’d threatened to crush him to pieces if he hurt me in any way. She was capable of it, too.

The tendril of fear put down roots. “Lurine.” I searched for words. “It’s not his fault. I provoked him.”

She raised her brows at me. “Do you have any idea how many abused women have said those exact same words?”

“I did, though.” It was important that I make Lurine understand. If I didn’t, she would hurt Stefan very, very badly. “I really did. Please. Don’t hurt him.” The words were coming better now. I managed to put a few more together. “Stefan doesn’t deserve to be punished for this,” I said. “I do.”

Lurine drummed her fingernails on the steering wheel. “Stefan Ludovic is a six-hundred-year-old ghoul, Daisy,” she said in a cold voice. “I hold him responsible for his conduct. He ought to know the risks of messing with someone as young and volatile as you.”

“He does.” I leaned back against the headrest. “Stefan’s been careful, very careful. What I did . . . it came out of nowhere. He was unprepared.”

She hesitated. “You threw a tantrum at him?”

“Yes.” I couldn’t remember why I’d done it—oh, wait, there had been Belphegor’s ill-timed outreach, too—but that was exactly what I’d done. I’d thrown a grown-up temper tantrum.

One of the Wheelhouse’s windows shattered as a body was hurled through it. Lurine pursed her lips. “Looks like Mr. Ludovic is putting up a fight. All right, fine. I’ll lend them a hand with him and then drive you home.”

“You won’t . . . squish him?” I asked in a faint voice. I’d seen her handiwork before.

“No.” Lurine reached into her purse and donned a pair of oversize sunglasses, turning her darkened gaze my way. “For your sake, I’ll be gentle. Just this once.”

The snaking tendril of fear growing inside me faded and gave way to a vague sense of relief. “Thank you.”

As I watched from the relative safety of the car, Lurine proceeded to the porch of the Wheelhouse, where the ghoul who’d been flung through the window was just staggering upright. Shoving him before her, she entered the bar, the doorway offering a brief glimpse of a full-blown brawl.

It got quiet fast.