And he’d loved the loyal posters and chat room groupies. He found himself prowling less, staying home just to talk to them. Doing things he wouldn’t normally do, like risking the wrath of his roommates just to please them. Fanglvr353 had been the one to request a camera placed on the sleeping Mac’s headboard. She’d been so grateful she’d sent him virtual flowers. And a picture of herself that made even Thomas blush. It was for Mac, but somehow Thomas didn’t think he’d be appreciative.
“She’s signed in.”
Thomas glanced over at Saint, suddenly alert. “She?”
Saint r
aised one dark eyebrow. “Kittysnapdragon. Isn’t she your favorite?”
He tried not to let his excitement show. What had she thought of his last video? Had she gotten his not so subtle message to her? Had she entered the contest? He rolled his eyes at Saint. “She’s just a fan of the website, man. Besides, you told me yourself how these things work. She could be a sixty-five-year-old, three hundred pound man for all I know.”
Saint shook his head. “Nope. More like thirty-one, female, long, dark brown hair and an ass you could bounce quarters off for fun.”
Thomas made an effort to stop growling, pulling his lips down over his extending incisors. “It isn’t nice to pry, Saint.” He kept forgetting Saint’s talent. A technophile, Saint traveled through the ether with his mind alone. In a heartbeat he could know everything about anyone linked in. A power Thomas wouldn’t mind borrowing from time to time. “Quarters, you say?”
Saint just smirked and lifted himself off the recliner. “I’m going back to my game. And don’t worry about Mac. He needs to be shaken up from time to time. The man has stick-up-his-ass-itis. A painful ailment that only a shock to the system can cure. I think this contest might be just the thing. He does too, otherwise he wouldn’t let us anywhere near his ancestral home.”
Thomas jumped from the couch and headed for his bedroom as soon as Saint rounded the corner. He’d be playing that game all night. The same way he had since he created the online role-playing game, Demon Saint. It was Saint’s way of putting himself out there. He’d made his story, the world he knew, into a game. Reviewers raved about the graphics, and the reclusive visionary who’d created it. It was worth millions, but Saint only kept enough to live on, giving the rest of the money away to charity. Not a very demon-like action, but he was half human after all. And Thomas knew money wasn’t why he did it. He understood that now. It was for the connection. Saint was responsible, in a way, for Shifting Reality as well. Maybe he’d known what Thomas had needed, even before Thomas had himself.
He closed his bedroom door, popping open a bottle of beer as he powered up his laptop. She was on, and he found himself impatiently drumming on the brown glass bottle as he waited for a chance to talk to her. To see if she’d entered.
Thomas opened the site, heading immediately to the chat room. He kept himself invisible so he could see what they were saying without distraction. It was full, everyone excited about the contest, about the chance to see Mac’s castle. Mac had no idea how much these women loved vampires. Every movie, every book, even the ones meant for younger adults—they ate it up. Vampires were in. His friend could be the Elvis of the blood sucking world if he’d just relax and enjoy it.
Ah. There she was. He double clicked on her name and opened up a private window.
Tomcat: Knock Knock
There was a pause, and he held his breath until she responded.
Kittysnapdragon: Sneaking in again? The others will be disappointed. They all want to pepper you with questions about the contest.
Tomcat: I’m a cat. I excel at sneaking. And other things.
Kittysnapdragon: So you keep telling me. I’ll just have to take your word for it.
He smiled when he saw her response. “Maybe I can prove it.” Tom typed swiftly, feeling like a nervous kid. It was foolish, how much he cared what she thought.
Tomcat: Did you enter the contest? Tell me your real name, I might be able to pull some strings.
He hit enter and held his breath.
There was another long pause, then a small yellow smiley face popped on screen, shaking its head along with a few words that had him snorting in disbelief. She logged off quickly, and he knew she wouldn’t be back on tonight.
“No cheating?” Her last words stayed with him as he turned off his computer and headed for Saint’s room. “You don’t know me very well, darlin’. But you will.”
Chapter Two
Margo Sheffield was the unluckiest human on the planet. That was all there was to it. A moment of weakness, just one small step from her straight and narrow path had led to this—trapped on a plane, not with snakes or psycho pilots, but with a group of eight others. All fans of Shifting Reality, all winning contestants on their way to Scotland.
When she’d arrived in New York, she’d discovered that the show had rented the entire plane, just for them. So there was nothing to distract Margo from getting to know her fellow winners. Or think about how she’d gotten into this mess in the first place.
After her five second chat with Tomcat almost a month ago, she’d made a resolution. She would stay away from the site for a while, focus on what was real, what she needed to do. He was a fantasy, and that was where he needed to stay. She’d thrown herself even further into her work, helping development weed through scripts, ensuring she was the first one to arrive and the last to leave. Everyone had taken notice. Including her boss, Darcy Finch.
So when she’d come in from picking up lunch for an office meeting to find everyone staring at her as though she’d grown an extra head, she was hopeful. Maybe she was getting that raise Darcy always dangled like a carrot. Or a promotion.
She wasn’t surprised when Darcy pulled her into the office before the meeting. She was surprised at the reason.
“Excuse me?”