by Shyla Colt
I roll my eyes. “Overconfidence is never attractive.”
“We both know it’s a matter of when not if when it comes to us, Louella.” His voice drops an octave.
“I can’t do this with you right now, Cristobal. I’ve had enough games for one day.”
He’s by my side instantly. “What happened?” His eyes flash amber.
I place a hand on his shoulder, stilling his simmering rage. “Family drama.”
“Let me take your mind off things for a time.”
“I’m not in the mood to pretend everything is okay. That’ll come soon enough.” My shoulders slump. A large butterfly swoops in capturing my attention. With black tipped wings it fades from a navy blue to a lighter cerulean toward it’s body. Two of its friend’s swoop in, sailing close to my body. They’re a sign of change. The wheels of fate are already turning. Stopping it is impossible.
He grabs my hand and brings it to his lips. Tiny currents of energy spark to life inside of me.
“All I ask is for a few hours, Louella. Would you deny me that? A suspended moment of happiness before the world closes back in around us.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Later. Please.” He squeezes my hand. “We need a base to rebuild upon. Can we not start today?” At that moment, I can see what’s left of his humanity peering out of from behind his rich brown eyes.
The pile of gray boxes, meticulously wrapped in a matte paper and cream flower bows piques my interest. I’m not buying it. He has ulterior motives. Still, the please twists me into knots. It’s not a word he uses often sincerely. There’s no command, simply a request.
“Okay.”
“Yes?”
The surprise in his voice drives a crack through the wall between our bond, and my emotions begin to spill on both sides. His gratitude and joy are a light spot on a dark and dismal day. I latch onto it, accepting the fortification he’s offering up. This is what the bond is meant to do. Make us stronger together. I ignore his comments. The man could sell snow to an Eskimo.
“Did you just …”
“Speak to you in your mind? Yes. You can do the same if you follow the pathway that links us.”
“You know what. No.” I place a finger over his lips. “No more bond talk. You want to have a day to rebuild? That’s my request.”
“Done.” He hefts the pile of presents, obscuring his face. “Now how about we get inside so I can spoil you?”
I laugh. “I don’t need that.”
“See, that’s exactly why you did. You’ve never learned how to take care of yourself first.” The gentle scolding is familiar. His caring was one of the things that drew me to him.
I raise my not-so-perfectly-sculpted brows. Memo to self, make time to get them waxed. “Things have to get done.”
“Yes, but not always by you.”
“How long have you known me? And yet we continue to have this conversation,” I say dryly.
“I’m just as stubborn as you, dove.”
My heartbeat spikes. I close my eyes, stunned by the visceral response my body has to the old nickname.
“No, you’re patient, because you’re ancient, and have the time to spare.”
He chuckles. “No one has a sharp tongue quite like you.”
“It’s a gift.” I unlock the door and step inside. “Come on in. Don’t mind the mess, and do be kind to Sacha when she arrives. She’s my roomie now.”
“I’m surprised Ms. Morel left the family home.”
“There were extenuating circumstances, but it’s not my story to tell.”
His eyes grow sad. “You used to consider me your closest confidante.”
“That’s a title that’s earned, not awarded.”
With a little difficulty, due to all of the packages he still carries, he reaches out to grasp my hand. “Are you willing to give me the chance to prove myself worthy of your trust?”
“No more lies going forward. If you can’t tell me something, say that. But no more half-truths or manipulated facts.”
“Do you understand what you’re asking for with a full disclosure policy?”
“Yes. I’m not that young girl anymore.”
“Believe me. I can see that.”
With a wink, I reply, “A little heartbreak and time away will do that to a girl.”
Sadness momentarily enters his eyes. He shakes it off, and herds me toward the couch. “Sit, dove.”
I sink onto the soft yellow cushion and watch as he carefully arranges the boxes beside me. “Are you thirsty?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.” I can’t help but marvel at the way such a powerful being can cater to me. It’s a temptation in itself, to hold power over him.
“Darling, you need to unwind, and we both know everything is better with alcohol. Relax, I’ll make you a mint julep.”
“Cristobal, Master vampire, and mixologist extraordinaire.”
He winks at me saucily. “Only for you.”
I admire his firm ass as he walks to my kitchen. I never saw a man wear a pair of slacks so well. I toe off my shoes and snuggle back into the corner of my couch. The positive energy in the house is at work, loosening tense muscles, and re-energizing me when he returns with a drink. I take a sip of the southern classic and moan.
“So good.”
He gives me a boyish grin that makes me think of the young boy he must’ve been at one point. Mischievous with dark eyes full of life and wild hair. Few get to see this side of him. It’s rare enough for me to feel honored, regardless of the fact that we’re on the outs. “How worried should I be about what you have to tell me today?”
“I thought we weren’t talking about it.”
“You know I hate surprises.”
“I do, which is why I’ll break the rules and put you at ease. It’s minor. A tedious bit of business that won’t require much effort. Now, no more.”
I’ve missed his brand of over the top. I could never deny him much. When the drink is half empty, I place it on the cocktail table. “I’m ready.”
The smile he delivers is blinding white and takes the centuries from his face. I’m standing on quicksand. Every moment I spend in his presence reminds me of the good times we had. When you block out everything and the walls come down, you have to relive it all. I’m not sure where that’ll leave me when it’s all said and done.
When I open the box and find two small black pillows with the outline of cats ears and the word meow in the center, I know I’m screwed.
“Did you choose this on your own?” I ask shakily. I’ve been collecting them and black cats so long I can’t pinpoint when the obsession began. It’s left every place I’ve called home looking Halloween ready. It touches me that he’s remembered things in such detail.
“Even after all this time, I know you, my heart. I did not give my heart lightly or invoke the bond without preparing to honor it.”
“Silver-tongued devil. I’ve changed. I’m not the same girl.”
“People are always changing. It’s nothing we can’t learn and adapt to. Every girl turns into a woman over time. You needed to grow and mature. Perhaps it wasn’t a transformation you could do with me. All I care about is that you’re back.” He hands me another box like an olive branch. I accept it. We find our footing among the gray paper and bows. From the black cat cookie jar to the pumpkin kitchen set, from wall borders to tea towels and beyond were carefully chosen and just right for my taste.
“Last two.”
I carefully unwrap the rectangular square and reveal a white box I know so well.
“What are you up to?”
“Open it.”
The black sequined cocktail dress has a sheer swath of material that reminds me of an arrow pointed upward.
“It’s beautiful, but when would I wear—”
“We had an unexpected visitors arrive tonight.” He sighs. Weariness bleeds through, disrupting the arrogant expression he wears like a shield. “ Which means w have to entertain.”“Who?”
“The New Orleans Lord, Blazh and his witch.” His shoulder slump.
“There’s no way that’s a coincidence,” I whisper quietly. Separated by only a few stairs, we’re put at eyelevel. He’s letting me see the man behind the glamour. Tired, hopeful, and unsure, he’s impossible to resist. This is the echo of the man I feel in love with. He’s still there, hidden behind vibrato, responsibility, and smokescreens. “No. They’re here to test us, poke at the shiny new toy, see how it works, and if it can be broken.”
“Who does Blazh have working for him?”
“Halycon.”
“Morel?” I whisper, stunned at the thought of the demure fourth cousin.
“She developed a taste for power far beyond the realm of what’s naturally possible.”
“Black magic.” I shudder at the thought of the sweet brunette with doe eyes, an upturned nose, and freckles for days. A part of me could understand the temptation. Soft-spoken and socially awkward, she’d been overlooked in lieu of her brash cousins. Still, she’d been powerful in her own right.
“I must warn you, she’s not the girl you remember.”
“No, she couldn’t be if what you say is true.” Black magic takes its toll on a user. Nature always finds a balance. What you send out comes back tri-fold. The darker the magic, the greater the rending of your soul, and warping of your spirit. Black magic is a deceiving term. Magic is neutral. It’s the intention of the user that adds the hue.
“How long has she been working with the Lord of New Orleans?” Blazh has held onto his position, ruling with an iron fist, and zero tolerance for failure. The lanky, olive-skinned man with flecks of silver woven into his thick black hair always set me on edge. He possesses a ruthless edge that shines in the depths of his dark gaze. His aristocratic features and honeyed tongue trapped unknowing victims in his web, where they waited until he devoured them whole.
An undetermined age, he’s remains a powerful wild card. Drawing his attention isn’t a good thing. He’ll seek to eliminate a threat before it can become a problem.
“Is this a normal thing?”
“Usually, yes, but not with his timing to your arrival. I believe he fears the growth happening in my Court.”
“How many of you are there outside of our inner circle?” I ask.
“All over the country, nearly three-hundred.”
My jaw drops.
“There’s strength in numbers.”
I nod numbly. He’s sitting on an army. “Do people know that?”
“No. It’d be like painting a target on my back. It’s why I keep them scattered. It allows me to have eyes in numerous places, and keeps our numbers hidden.”
“What’s our goal tonight?”
“To be as charming and non-threatening as possible.” He places the last box into my hands.
I gasp when the black heels are revealed. They’re a work of art. The three-inch heel is made of metal worked to resemble a climbing vine. Ralph & Russo heels are expensive.
“Oh crap. You want me to play the silly witch in love with her vampire lover, don’t you?”
His lips curl. “You always were just as smart as you were beautiful.”
“If we come through this unscathed, I’m going to seek retribution.”
He chuckles. “I would expect no less.”
I force myself to stand.“Let me get to work on a proper presentation.”
“I’ll wait.”
“You’re worried,” I whisper.
“I know your house is warded, but right now with them in town, I will not take chances.”
“You expect to stay here with me?” I ask, wondering how Sacha would feel about the new addition.
“No, you will stay with me.”
I frown. “For how long?”
“However long it takes.”
“Cri—”
“This is not negotiable.”
I clench my jaw. “I will not lose my freedom.”
“Better that than your life. My lover would want to be with me.”
I look away. He’s right.
“Is it such a hardship to spend time with me?”
No, that’s the problem.
“I’ll play my part.”
“Be sure to do it convincingly. There is much at stake.”
Chapter Eight
People think vampires are ice cold. They aren’t. A bit cooler than our own natural temperature, unless they’ve just feed, they are scarily similar to humans. I lean into Cristobal, playing the part of an infatuated witch as I scan the area. Blue is a paranormal hot spot. Where people come to be themselves, do the business of a magical variety, and be seen. It’s quiet on a Thursday evening, and the area is sparsely populated when we walk inside. Blue lighting casts an ethereal vibe. The bar is decorated with high-end leather couches and chairs. Smokey glass tables, and interesting lighting and art. There are two bars made out of dark wood. I can feel the hot burn of eyes on us as we make our way toward the V.I.P. area in the back of the building.
Placing a smile on my face, I focus on keeping my mind blank. A smile is the hardest thing to fake when your stomach is in your throat, and your body is trying to stiffen up. There’s nothing casual about what’s happening. A wave of reassurance spreads through our link. I take a deep breath and hold on tighter to the arm wrapped in my own. In a world full of potential threats, he’s my protector.
We climb up the stairs, and the large bouncer unhooks the red velvet rope. Of course, we’re the only people in here. Blazh and Hal are seated at a round table draped in a crisp red tablecloth. My jaw drops. It’s like she’s had a supermodel makeover. Her dishwater blonde hair is now a rich honey brown, her skin is clear and luminous, and her slender frame is poured into a slinky red dress. I gasp.
“Hal! You look incredible.”
Her lips spread back to reveal even white teeth that threaten to blind in the darkened room. “Lou. I almost didn’t believe the rumors that you were back.”
“I see our witches are well acquainted. What a tight knit group they are.” They rise, and I glance down, not ignorant enough to meet his gaze head-on. He’s no Youngling. A silent power thrums around him. “Thank you for meeting us here on such short notice.”
“The pleasure is ours, Blazh. I’m not sure if you’ve met my witch, Louella Esçhete.”
“I’ve never had the pleasure until now.” He takes my hand and brushes it with his lips. I beat back a shudder with sheer willpower.
“The pleasure is mine, Lord Blazh.” I keep my gaze trained on the corner of his eyes large brown eyes, never making full contact out of respect. His thick black curls tumble to his shoulders, complimenting his golden skin tone. He’s beautiful, like a sculpture with his Greek nose and raven winged brows.
“No need to be so formal, Blazh is fine. Charming, isn’t she?”
“When she wants to be,” Cristobal says playfully.
Hal laughs. “Same old, Lou?”
I grin. “Who else could I be? It’s good to see you doing so well.” Outwardly she’s stunning. I meet her gaze and mentally scream. There’s a void where life and sweetness once lived. Her cobalt blue gaze is icy. It chills the blood in my veins. A shadow rests behind her, waiting to devour her. My skin crawls. It’s a struggle not to look away. Like a snake tasting the air, her power slithers forward, probing at my own. I refuse to engage, keeping my shields high and my nerves steady. A queen doesn’t bow to peasants.
Nature keeps a balance. I see that at work. Black magic is a misleading term. Magic is neutral, neither dark nor light. It’s the intention of the wielder which gives it a hue. What you send out comes back tri-fold
. The darker you go, the more it takes a toll and warps your soul, twisting and reshaping until you’re unrecognizable. Like a drug, the rush of power is addictive and requires more with each cast to get the same high.
“Please, sit.” Blazh gestures with a wave of his hand.
Cristobal pulls the chair out for me, and I sit, giving him a smile of thanks as he pushes me in and takes his place beside me.
“So sweet. Still in the honeymoon stage from your reunion?” His tone is casual, but the message is clear. He’s been watching us closely.
“Yes. We’ve been … reconnecting nicely,” Cristobal says with a smirk.
“I have to tell you, I never thought I’d see the day. An Esçhete cavorting with a vampire? It’s downright scandalous,” Hal purrs. “I’m still trying to figure out if you’re mad or a genius.”
I shrug. “I’m a woman making the most of her life. Same as anyone.”
She laughs darkly. “Oh, we both know you could never be that. We’ve all known you were intended for some form of greatness.”
“And here I thought I’d dispelled those nasty rumors when I left. They’re a terrible thing, expectations. Like weights around ankles, they drag you down. You always leave someone disappointed because people are never the same in real life as they are on paper or in imagination.”
“Yes, I know that feeling well,” Hal says softly.
A moment of understanding passes between us. There’s a downside to coming from one of the prominent witch families. We are marked from the moment we’re born. Destined to carry on a tradition and purpose bigger than ourselves.
“I think they’re bonding. How human,” Blazh says amused.
The words drive home the differences between him and Cristobal.
“They do love their sentiments.” Cristobal trails his fingers down my back, grounding me. The affection coming through our link steadies and reassures me.
Blazh turns the heavy weight of his gaze on us. “You two go powder your nose while we talk.”
“Of course,” Hal replies automatically. It makes me wonder about their relationship.
I turn to Cristobal.