He flirted with his red boa, shook his hips from side to side, and sang to the rowdy crowd. His earlier tension drained, leaving Sy to have a great time on stage, shaking his money maker and belting out his favorite list of songs. That was until he saw Fang moving around the tables, as if he were trying to get a closer seat.

Don’t panic. The man isn’t going to do anything in front of this crowd.

 Sy made sure he stayed away from that side of the stage—which really sucked considering all the money that was being waved into the air. Gritting his back teeth, Sy forced himself to strut over there. He kept a good distance from Fang as he jutted his hip out and continued to sing. This was his career, his life, and Sy wasn’t going to let anyone scare him away from what he loved doing.

He just wasn't going to allow the man to get close to him. He was being brave, not asking for trouble. Sy set one foot in front of the other, gripping the microphone as his eyes scanned over the crowd. The music flowed, as well as the drinks, which only helped the customers toss more bills at Sy's feet.  

His eyes drifted back toward his stalker and to his dismay, Fang wink at him as he raised his glass. Sy wanted to kick the wolf in the face, but restrained himself.

Barely.

When his last number ended, Sy hauled ass behind the curtain, hurrying down the steps of the stage. His heel caught and he almost went sprawling, but thankfully he managed to keep himself upright. The last thing he wanted to do was sprain his ankle.

He stopped at the bouncer's side before looking over his shoulder to make sure Fang wasn’t hot on his heels. This routine was getting tiring and Sy wished the wolf would just disappear. Sy grabbed the bouncer's arm and guided him back toward the curtain. He parted it before he said, "The nutjob is back."

The bouncer's eyes glinted with anger. "I'll keep him from getting to you."

"Thanks." Knowing the bouncer was going to keep Fang away didn’t stop Sy's stomach from tying into knots. There was still the small fact of Sy leaving the Tuck & Tease Lounge. Fang might be waiting for him in the parking lot.

The shit I get myself into.

Which only reminded Sy of the date he was supposed to have tonight. Count Vladimir Dracul had called in a favor and Sy knew he couldn’t turn the coven leader down. He owed the vampire.

But he was in no mood to entertain some Ministry guard. Sy had bigger problems on his hands. But if he didn’t show, Vlad would have his neck.

Once back in the dressing room, Sy showered and changed into a pair of tan cargo pants and a light-brown sweater. It wasn’t his normal get-up, but he was trying to throw Fang off of his trail. In this bland getup, he blended in, and that was just what he needed to escape his psychotic stalker.

Fat chance considering the man had the ability to scent Sy out. He also didn’t want to lead his date on. Sy was doing this as a favor. He'd never even met this Van Pierre before. With the way his luck was going, the man would be butt ugly.

Please don’t let him be butt ugly.

At this point, Sy would take anyone who wouldn’t hound him like Fang. Being stalked wasn’t flattering in the least. It was downright scary. Especially considering that Fang was twice Sy's size.

"You knocked 'em dead," Kat said as he winked at Sy. "I wish I could sing like you."

"Honey, you have the looks," Sy said as he stared at the gorgeous guy. Kat Nipp really was a looker, and he knew how to use it. He had more admirers than even Sy did. "You rake in enough dough for the both of us."

Kat batted his eyelashes. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

Too bad it couldn’t get him out of his current situation or he'd flatter the shit out of Fang and Van Pierre. Resigned to a night of false smiles and fake laughter, Sy headed out of the club. The parking lot was empty. The security lights were shining brightly over the rows of cars. The owner of the Tuck and Tease Lounge believed in keeping his customers safe. Sy had been tempted a dozen times to tell his boss that he was being stalked, but Sy didn't want a big production made. As naïve as it was, he kept hoping that Fang would just give up.

He crept toward his car, scanning the parking lot. It took him six seconds to get from the door to behind his steering wheel. Sy maneuvered out of the parking lot and onto Bishop Road, heading toward Massimo De Milano restaurant. Part of him hoped that he was stopped at the door for his lack of attire so he wouldn’t have to suffer through this date.

But luck was still shitting on him. The maître ď happily showed Sy to his seat. Van Pierre wasn’t here yet, which only gave Sy time to think…and think…and think.

Sy was sitting there tapping a thin breadstick on the table, ready to leave when he spotted the hottest guy to walk on two legs. The man walked through the restaurant as if he owned the entire world.

Sy felt his cock perk right up as he stared at the cleanly shaven face, a dark expensive suit, and a chiseled cut that said the stranger took damn good care of his body.

And the man was heading right for him.

Sy sat up straight, feeling like a boob for not looking his best. He wished he had put out all of the stops when the man drew nearer.  If this was Van Pierre, he would have to thank Vlad.

"Monsieur Wren."

The stranger dipped his head before he took Sy's hand and kissed the back of his knuckles. "What a pleasure to finally meet you."

There was a high possibility that Sy was drooling. Thankfully when he wiped at his mouth, it was dry. "Van Pierre?"

" Ouí." Van took a seat, his musky cologne wafting toward Sy like an invitation to get naked. If they weren't in such a swank restaurant, he just might have.