I only had one question, but before I could answer he said, “We never offer immortality. We respect the limits of life.”
I hadn’t hidden my look of apprehension and disgust.
“Anand was born here?”
He nodded, his focus intensifying. It wasn’t as if I was ever surreptitious about gathering information.
“His mother was a witch?”
He shook his head. “A wolf shifter—a dangerous one. I suspected a hybrid with a witch. Her bite was dangerous to both vampires and wolves.”
It was like pulling teeth. “His father?”
“Not a shifter or a vamp,” he offered. His voice held a hint of finality, trying to end the discussion.
“Then what?” I asked.
He leaned forward and studied me. “Will knowing his background affect your life in any meaningful way?” he asked, his words acerbic, his tone curt.
“No, I’m just curious about him,” I explained. I’d provoked a protective response he had for Anand. That was interesting. “He just vanishes into the background, or maybe he’s camouflaging himself. Is that shifter magic? Vampire magic? Some type of illusion magic they can perform?”
“Except for Vadim, changing into an animal is the only magic shifters can perform. Vampires can zone and compel. But I’ve already told you that.” Coolness drifted into his expression and made its way to his eyes. “Perhaps, if you want to know more about Anand, ask him.”
The long draw he took from his glass punctuated the end of the topic. He relaxed back in his chair. “Tomorrow you’ll have magic.” A flutter of excitement moved through me. “We’ll come here to do the spells. It’ll be best to see the response to it,” he told me. “I’ll need the Trapsen back.”
“Of course, it’s not like after this is over, I’m going to traipse back to the Underworld.” I still couldn’t believe how casually I said that. As if it was just another destination on the map. Underworld.
Was that disappointment in his expression?
“This might be our last night together,” he whispered, seduction and invitation heavy in his voice.
“It doesn’t have to be.” Um, it damn well better be, screamed killjoy Luna. And I really needed to listen to her.
When he leaned forward on the table, I felt the pull of his presence, the dark sensuality that marked his presence, and the invitation. He exuded raw sexuality, and whatever he was doing beckoned me. Naughty thoughts crept through my mind, and I had to work hard at squashing them.
Dominic was luring me into his web of seduction, and I was willing to fall prey to it in a manner I was sure many others had before me.
“Unless it fails.” Helena wore her cruel smile proudly as she approached the table. Ignominy wafted off her like a fragrance. “Then you’ll have no other choice, Dominic, but to go to extremes. Not only is the Conventicle losing patience, but there are others involved. You’ll be forced to be practical, which is what you do best.” Her eyes were merciless as she bored into him and then turned to me. Was there any love between them? “Allow yourself the pleasures of his seduction. Let him have you tonight. If the sounds of passion I’ve heard from others are any indicator, it will be enjoyable for you.”
Gross thing to acknowledge about your brother, but do go on.
I swallowed. My eyes flicked to Dominic, who, immune to her cruelty and antics, watched his sister with a casual indifference.
“You can fuck him tonight. Take your pleasure from it. But know that he’d roll from atop you and slit your throat in the process.” She provided a vivid portrait of Dominic’s ease of violence and indifference. And the images that resurfaced about earlier only reinforced it.
With a great deal of effort, I kept disappointment or shock from showing. I wished I could’ve found the audacity to look her in the face and say something like “If I’m going to die, it might as well be under a hot guy.” It would have shocked the smirk off her face. But I couldn’t be that cavalier about dying. I wanted to live.
The expressionless look Dominic directed at his sister was a reminder of the casualness with which he approached murder and violence. He was a person who honored his promises, but he’d never promised to not kill me.
Backing away, I kept a careful eye on them both. Before I could turn and leave, I glimpsed Helena’s look of victory and Dominic’s indecipherable expression that made her air of triumph fade. For a long time, they held each other’s gaze. The taunting defiance that she’d reveled in dwindled into apprehension. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes briefly. Had she managed to finally cross the line?
He dragged his eyes from her and let them follow me as I walked away. He didn’t stop me from leaving, nor did he deny her statement.
Sleep didn’t come easily. Helena’s incendiary words stayed with me. Holding on to the optimism I shared with the prince was becoming increasingly difficult. My tossing and turning stopped when someone knocked at the door. I didn’t answer.
“I know you are awake. I heard you.” Had he been standing at the door, ruminating on the acceptable way to say “I know murdering you is my last-ditch strategy, but can we push that aside and be friends?”
I rolled out of the bed, marched to the door, and yanked it open.
“What!” I growled. I sounded formidable. If words had the power some people claimed they did, they would have ripped his head off.
He didn’t speak for a long time, his eyes traveling the length of my body and settling on my lips, as if he had a hard time believing that level of anger came from them. Then they met my eyes.
“My sister was out of line.”
“Did she say anything that wasn’t true?”
He answered with a sigh. I took it as a tacit confirmation.
“May I come in?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Yes.”
“Then no.”
He nodded. “I need the Trapsen.”
Closing the door in his face felt better than I could have ever imagined. I went to the dresser where I’d placed the Trapsen, grabbed it, opened the door, and shoved it into his chest. He took hold of my arm and pulled me into him. I could smell his scent intermingled with the redolence of wine and feel the firmness of his body.
This dude has killing you as an option if things don’t work out tomorrow, I reminded myself and cursed my hormones. They had lamentably poor self-protection instincts.
“The only way you don’t survive this is if I don’t,” he whispered. “That’s my promise to you.” He inched in closer, his lips warm, his breath breezing across my lips. “Okay?” he breathed. It was such a featherlight touch I wasn’t even sure it was a kiss.
He released me but I kept the miniscule distance between us.
“Okay?” he repeated.
Relief flooded through me and lifted a burden I hadn’t realized had weighed so heavily on me. Perspective changes judgment. All the things that I considered questionable about him—propensity for violence, power, calculating strategist, and arrogance—were things that would ensure we both came out of this victorious.
“Goodnight, Luna,” he said before walking away. I watched him until he disappeared around the corner.
“That is his oath, not mine,” Helena clarified, her voice acrid with disdain. I turned to find her just inches from me.
I pointed to my face, devoid of any emotion. Fatigue made it easier to maintain. “This is my ‘not giving a fuck’ face. Sorry if it looks similar to my ‘your little act is getting tiring, so get a new spiel’ face.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, I walked back into the room and slid a chair in front of the door. I had given Dominic the Trapsen, not the knife. Helena would feel the blade if she came in.
19
It took a while to take in the spacious living room from the entryway where the elevator had deposited us. To my disappointment, our destination from the Underworld didn’t put us in the alleyway of Books and Brew. I wanted to see the end results of their clea
nup work. And Emoni’s five texts asking me to call her and checking in on me didn’t ease my concerns despite Dominic’s assurance that everything had been handled. His version of “handled” differed greatly from mine.
“I’m fine,” I texted. “You?”
“Have you heard about the store?”
Throughout the day, I had gone over how I’d handle this if asked, but now faced with lying to my best friend, it was more difficult than expected. I’m protecting her, I reminded myself.
“Yes, Cameron left a message. Store vandalized.” I added an angry emoji. “Sometimes I hate people.”
“Me too.”
I was about to send a message when Emoni’s ringtone sounded. Her calling set off alarms. She definitely preferred texts or video calls.
“Luna,” she rushed out as soon as I answered.
Dominic appeared to be busying himself, straightening up things in an already immaculate kitchen. He managed to change the spice rack from one side of the stove to the other. The kitchen looked like it had never been used and the spices were for staging purposes only.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concern drenching her voice.
“Yeah, why?”
“Your ex”—the word held the same level of disdain as if she’d said “jackass”—“was in the coffee shop today, urging me to talk to you.” Knowing how Emoni felt about him, Jackson approaching her probably made the situation seem dire.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you with Dominic?” Calling him by name and not referring to him as the handsome man from the coffee shop meant that Jackson had done more than just urge. He probably gave her a Jackson version of the encounter with Dominic and the events of yesterday, if the Dark Caster or the Conventicle crew hadn’t spelled him to forget.
“No.” That lie hurt. “But I’ve hung out with him several times. He’s—” I looked Dominic straight in his face, because he’d given up pretending he wasn’t listening to the call and was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a crisp, tailored olive-green shirt that complemented his eyes. Making me aware of his enviable long lashes. Perhaps I’d purposely ignored them in my effort to dismiss his allure. Why force people into the Underworld? I was sure he could just entice them into following.
“He’s not as strange as I imagined. Rather interesting, and of course anything Jackson has to say about him is fueled by jealousy.”
Silence.
“Do you have plans today?” she asked.
Yep, I’m getting magic, undoing a spell so I can recapture prisoners from the supernatural prison in the Underworld. Then I plan to sit in front of my TV, watch the lightest, funniest show available while shoving chips and M&Ms in my mouth, and mainline margaritas while devouring tacos. What about you?
“Nothing much, why?”
“Can you stop by the coffee shop for a few minutes? I… I… I’d like to see you. Please.”
It was a strange request, but the anxiety and urgency in her voice made me want to do whatever was necessary to ease it.
“Of course. I’ll see you in an hour,” I told her when Dominic mouthed a time.
“Great.” Relief flooded her voice.
After I disconnected, Dominic was expressionless. The peach glow from the sun through the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one wall of the apartment created a halation backdrop against his figure.
Pulling my eyes from his, I took in the curved white leather art deco chairs that wouldn’t look out of place in a museum. They were for looks, not function. The clean lines of the wood coffee table. The large artworks hanging on the neutral walls. The rug was the only thing in the living room that looked comfortable. I leaned down to touch the soft material. I could see a sitting room to my right that was just as pristine.
“Helena and I share it. The bedrooms look more lived in,” he admitted.
I looked at him suspiciously, not missing the invitation in his statement.
“Can you take me to the coffee shop, or should I call a Lyft?”
“I’ll take you. I think it’s a good idea for us to stay together until this is over.”
As I followed him down to a garage with a silver BMW sedan, black Audi R8, and a Range Rover, he turned to me and said, “It’s private—came with the apartment.”
Emoni’s eyes brightened when I entered the coffee shop. There weren’t any customers, so she came from behind the counter and hugged me.
I pulled from her hold and studied her. Hugging was another uncharacteristic thing.
“Can you believe this?” She waved a hand toward the bookstore, where the door was closed and there looked to be a team of people repairing things. The display shelves and books had been moved to the coffee shop, along with whatever saleable items had survived.
The items took over a small section of the coffee shop but didn’t seem to bother the few customers. With coffee in hand, they perused the additions while Lilith stood behind the register, waiting to help them with their purchases.
“I wonder why the bookstore was the only store hit,” Emoni mused with a frown.
“What?”
She looked at another barista and mouthed for her to cover. Turning back to me, concern creased a frown in her face, giving her a stern appearance. Her thick, tightly coiled curls were worn back off her face with a Puff Cuff; she looked younger.
“This might sound ridiculous… You know what, I’ll admit it’s bananas, but Jackson said that Dominic’s obsessed with you. He thinks Dominic vandalized the store so he could have more time with you. Jackson’s convinced that you’ve been spending all your time with him.” Once it was out, she covered her face. “Ugh, it sounds even more ridiculous saying it out loud.” And she let out a mirthless laugh, spreading her fingers to look at me through the spaces.
“I have spent a lot of time with him. He’s interesting.” Not a lie.
“And hot as hell,” she added.
“I’m not going to deny that.” I grinned, still unable to shake a suspicion that she might have been compelled, as Jackson had been. But no, this was Emoni, a sardonic quirk in her lips, expressive eyes, and that charismatic presence that allowed her to get away with snarky and poorly veiled insults to “faux coffee lovers.”
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” she admitted.
She led me to a table a few feet from Peter, who had taken over a table in the corner of the store, legs out, books, papers, tablet, and an uneaten sandwich and muffin in the middle of the table, making it uninviting for anyone looking to share.
Shaking my head, I jerked my chin in his direction. “Someone is definitely an only child.”
“Or a self-centered ass.”
“Possibly, but he seems nice enough. Just weird.”
She looked unconvinced and moved her attention to the window. “It’s nice out. Let’s go for a walk. Catch up. I feel like we haven’t talked in so long.”
Familiarity eased in. We took many walks around the eclectic neighborhood to people watch, admire the unique fashions, take in the smell of food from the restaurants, and make predictions about whether the dog spa, hemp bakery, or ‘I really didn’t think this through” store would be around the next year.
“Sure.”
Dominic was seated outside on the patio of the restaurant across the street from the coffee shop. Unless she was looking for him, he’d go unnoticed. Based on Emoni’s line of questioning, it was good that I’d suggested he stay away.
“This way,” she said, pointing away from the main street, through the alleyway. “We always take that route. Let’s go down Kern Way. I want to check out that new coffee shop,” she said when I hesitated.
Okay. Her smock was still on; she was going to broadcast her reconnaissance efforts.
“Tell me about Dominic,” Emoni said as she pointed at our destination, the coffee shop signage of a steaming cup of coffee next to the name Café Intermezzo. Would it appeal to Americans, or would it be considered pretentious?
“I don’t know a lot about him. He’s broody and standoffish.” Not a lie.
“So he doesn’t think you’re a witch?” she teased, turning to look at my expression.
“He changes the subject when I steer it toward that. He believes I am, but I think he knows the absurdity of it.” Lie. But I didn’t know what to tell her, and the guilt of lying to protect her left a heavy pit in my stomach. Emoni didn’t seem to notice any change in me, and the conversation quickly moved to her asking if I liked him. I gave a very unconvincing no. She let that lie slide. It was more complex than just a simple no. I couldn’t like the Prince of the Underworld. But denying my attraction to him was ludicrous.
The ardency of his promise to make sure I survived this had changed the way I saw him. I doubted he made many promises that involved protecting a life. Rather, he was definitely the type of person to make vows to take a life in the most painful manner possible.
Letting all thoughts of Dominic slip from my mind, I realized how much I’d missed being with Emoni, talking, the normality of it.
“The owner of the Kingmakers would like our band to be regular,” Emoni told me after we got a coffee from Intermezzo. I wasn’t sure if the sneer on her face was from all the shop’s designer coffees and super sweet desserts: frosted cookies and muffins, fudge and candy. “This isn’t a coffee shop, it’s a bakery,” she complained under her breath after the barista gave us a judgmental eyebrow cock at our black coffee order and rejection of pastries.
“Really.”
“It was the woman I was speaking with at Books and Brew after my performance.”
There was a hitch in her voice. Apprehension. Where she should have been excited, she wasn’t.
“She booked the band for twice a month,” she admitted. The heartache was so heavy in her voice, I stopped walking and looked at her. “And me and Gus on Wednesdays, as a duo.”
I blinked once and made my face emotionless. A blank canvas to give her what she needed.
“Does she want you to do covers, like you two did at Wine-Down?”
A Touch of Brimstone (Magic of the Damned Book 1) Page 20