by Lizzy Prince
“Killian?”
“There’s no such thing as a vampire who’s also a witch,” is his only response, his voice quiet and tone clipped.
“Listen, I’m not going to try to convince you otherwise. You can decide for yourself. I don’t know how she ended up here, but my guess is that she’s fresh. If she’s not the kidnapped witch, then do you know of someone from your house that’s missing?”
“I would have known if there was a missing newbie from my house.” Killian’s voice sounds slightly displeased, as though he’s annoyed that I’d think he didn’t have his shit together. “Where is she now?” His tone is clipped.
“She’s at my house. Dylan had to pull her off me, otherwise I likely would have crushed her trying to get her off.”
“What does that mean?” he growls, and I can hear the static of him moving through the phone.
“It means I clocked her in the head, vamp. She’ll be fine. That’s not your biggest problem,” Dylan shouts from over my shoulder. With his enhanced hearing, there’s no way he hasn’t heard her.
“I’ll be right over.”
“Yeah, I’m out. The last thing I need is for Killian to smack me in the head in retaliation. Have fun with all that.” Dylan throws me a salute like a smartass and sidles out of the house.
Killian’s pulling up in front of the house within minutes. When he strides into my house, his eyes immediately zone in on the red head, and then stalls just inside the door. I’ve known Killian since we were kids. We grew up together and have weathered some really bad fucking times together. He’s one of my oldest friends, and I know I can trust him with just about anything. He’s been mistaken for a rockstar more than once and has an arrogance level that makes that error understandable. I’d never tell his conceited ass that though. He’s a little bit of fuck you wrapped up in a polished British accent. He hasn’t lived in England in over two hundred years, so I have no idea how he hasn’t lost it yet. I suppose it’s mainly because the ass doesn’t give things up lightly.
“Are you afraid of little red heads?” I raise a brow at his tense posture, and Killian gives me an annoyed look.
“How the fuck is that even possible?” he asks as he slowly crosses the room, as if he’s approaching a mythical creature. The woman is passed out on my couch, so it’s not like he’s going to frighten her away. Still, he approaches with caution, which makes me wonder if I should be farther away from the little thing. She appears harmless, but I’m no fool. In the supernatural world, size doesn’t equal power.
I’m standing by her feet, peering down at a woman curled in on herself like she’s waiting for an attack, even in her sleep. Killian stops near her head, his expression guarded.
“Do you recognize her?” I ask, examining my friend’s face instead of looking at the woman.
He stares at her for a long time, his features puzzled, but there’s also intrigue lighting up his eyes. He’s far too curious for his own good, and I’m sure this little witch is providing him with one hell of a mystery to solve.
“I don’t. But if she attacked you, a wolf, not to mention a fucking monster of a man, then she might be having troubles with blood lust.” Killian heaves out a heavy exhale. “I’ll take her with me. Make sure she’s getting enough blood, and hopefully that’s not the case.”
Blood lust is something Killian is intimately familiar with. I hope for both of their sakes that’s not what’s going on with the witch.
“Good luck. And, Kill, once she wakes up, see if you can figure out what she was trying to tell me when she got here. If she’s the witch your stoner was talking about, then she might know who the wolf that hired the rogue vamps is.”
“I’ll find out, Silas. I just don’t know how long it will take.” He’s gentle as his arms tuck under her. He adjusts the woman’s body so she’s cradled close to his body. And then he’s gone from the house before I can blink. Fucking fast vamps.
Just like that, I’m alone, with only my thoughts to keep me company. And they inevitably turn to Bridget. What is she doing? What is she baking right now? Does she have her hair all braided and tidy? Or is it loose and free, tumbling over her shoulders? I rarely see her that unrestrained and unhampered by some burden I’ve yet to learn about. I give in to the need that both my wolf and I feel and strip, running to clear my head. Or maybe I’m running toward something. That same something that always leads me back to Bridget’s house. Once I’m there, back under her tree, I sit and stare, wondering why I can’t stay away from her.
I think Bridget is avoiding me. Somehow, she’s been out of her store every time I’ve stopped in these last few days. Millie, the sassy old lady, keeps giving me encouraging pats on the arm, like I’m some lovesick fool who isn’t getting the hint. But I don’t buy it. Which is why I’m sitting at a table that’s too small for my large body, eating a chocolate croissant that is melting in my mouth, while I watch for any sign of Bridget. I understand how far I’ve fallen into creeper territory but really don’t give two shits. Obviously. Sipping my coffee, I pull out my phone when it vibrates in my pocket. Dante’s name blinks on the screen. I lean back in the too small chair, which makes an ominous creaking sound, as I answer.
“What’s up.”
“Hey. Put some clothes on and get over to Alarik’s. Hazel was attacked,” the ass commands like he’s my mom telling me to come home.
“I have clothes on, dick,” I say around the last bite of my afternoon snack, trying to look nonchalant as I peer over at the counter. I don’t see Bridget up front, but half the time she hides in the back. I can’t scent her, although, with the overwhelming scent of baked goods in here, it’s hard to smell much of anything else.
“Just get over here. We’ve got a situation. We could use some help.” Dante sighs as if annoyed he’s had to ask nicely.
“I’ll be there in a few.” I hang up before the dick can say something rude and get up to throw my trash away.
Before I leave, I wander back up to the counter and flash Millie my best smile. “Where’s our girl today?”
Millie has to be well into her seventies, but she’s got the kind of twinkle in her eye that only a real mischief maker has. I wouldn’t want to cross her. I have a feeling she’d be as likely to punch you in the gut as she would be to slash your tires. I like her. She reminds me a lot of my own grandmother. Regardless, if Bridget is mad at me for some reason, I’m pretty sure Millie’s on my side.
She makes a sad sound and clucks her tongue. “You just missed her, Tall Drink.” She winks at me as she cleans off the counter. “She had to run over to one of her friend’s houses. Some sort of emergency.”
My asshole of a heart starts beating faster in anticipation. I fully comprehend how shitty that is, because something happened to Alarik’s girlfriend, Hazel. I feel like some sad stalker who is so desperate for contact with Bridget that I’m clinging to the small chance that she might be at Alarik’s house. Bridget and Hazel are friends, so it’s not so much of a stretch. I know this because, again, I’ve turned into a pathetic, near-obsessive stalker.
I barely manage a goodbye to Millie before I’m out the door and on my way to Alarik’s. When I get to Alarik’s house, I let myself in without bothering to knock and head toward the murmur of voices coming from the direction of the living room. One voice in particular has a smile edging up my face.
Chapter Six
Bridget
Remi rarely calls me when I’m at work. If she needs something, she’ll just stop in, since she works right up the street. When I see her name pop up on my phone, I get a little worried. Has something happened? Our nana was in Texas for the winter having said, and I quote, it’s colder than a witch’s titty up here in the winter, and I’m too old for that shit. My first thought is that something must have happened to her, and that’s why Remi is calling.
I’m elbow deep in dough, kneading bread and pretending it’s Silas’s face that I’m pounding on. I always keep my phone on the back counter so that it’s
out and not on a space covered in flour. I manage to answer it and hit speaker with my elbow, a feat I’ve grown pretty accomplished at doing over the years.
“Remi? Is everything okay?” I ask before I even say hello.
“Bridge, you need to get over to Alarik’s.” Anyone who didn’t know Remi well would think she sounds calm and collected. Her voice is smooth and soothing and always a little husky. When we were little, I often made her read to me because it was so relaxing. Now, I can hear an undercurrent of real worry in her tone.
“Alarik’s? What’s going on?” I scoop up my dough and start wrapping it up. It’s going to have to wait for later. It looks like I’ll be heading to Alarik’s. I know I’ll go, even if I have no idea why. Remi rarely asks for things, and there’s no way I wouldn’t be there for her if she needs me.
“It’s Hazel. She’s been attacked.”
“Attacked?” I screech and drop the dough on the floor. Well, poop. I pick it up and toss it in the garbage. Guess I won’t be working on that later. I hurry to the sink and start washing my hands as Remi semi-explains.
“I’ll fill you in when you get here. Just get over here.”
“Do you need me to bring anything?”
“No, just come. Well, maybe some donuts.”
“Really, Remi?” I scold, taking off my apron and hanging it on a hook by the door leading out to the storefront.
“Fine. Just bring yourself. Bye.” She hangs up, and I grab my phone now that my hands are clean. Rolling my eyes, I grab a box and toss in a dozen donuts. Regardless of what I said, I can’t help wanting to feed people and take care of them the best way I know how—with sugar. I poke my head out the door, calling for Millie, who’s pushing through the swinging door a second later.
“Millie, one of my friends is in trouble. I need to run out for a bit. Hold down the fort, please.” She takes the box out of my hands, so I pull on my coat and put on a pair of fuzzy earmuffs. They make me look like Princess Leia, but I’ve got my hair in two braids, crisscrossed at the base of my head today, and if I put on a hat, I’ll be a static monster when I take it off.
“I got it, Bridget. You go see about your friend,” Millie says as she hands back the box of donuts and all but shoos me out of the store.
It’s ridiculously cold out, and I know I look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man in my gold puffer coat that hits my knees. It’s by far my warmest coat, but I know it’s kind of hideous to look at. Warmth over fashion though, that’s my motto.
I know exactly where Alarik lives, despite never having been there before today. Everyone in town knows where the richies like Alarik Kingston, Silas Ivailo, Dante Sentire, and Killian Moore live. It’s hard not to notice mansions in your little city and not know who lives there. The town loves to talk about these men, like they are our own personal celebrities. But they are notoriously closed off. Not that they are rude to people who live here, they just tend to stick together. I’ve never really heard of them dating any girls in town, and when we do see them, it’s mainly Silas coming to town. Out of all of them, he's the one who interacts with the town the most. Coming into my bakery, showing up at festivals and other town functions.
My face warms as I think about Oktoberfest and how Silas left me tangled up against the wall of that alley. Back scratched up from the rough brick of the wall, legs like jelly from how hard he made me come. And then he walked away from me, like I was just another piece of ass that he couldn’t be bothered to say goodbye to. Anger, embarrassment, and shame batter me like a raging river, and I can literally feel my blood pressure going up.
My gloved fingers try to clutch my steering wheel in a death grip, but the damn things are so slippery that my hands just sort of slide around. Damn it. Why can’t I even be mad properly? I huff out a breath that puffs out in a little cloud in front of me. My car isn’t the newest, and the heat takes forever to warm. The car also makes an irritating squealing sound for the first five minutes every time I start it in cold weather, but a new car isn’t really my priority. I’ve been focused on making sure the bakery stays profitable, and I wanted to buy my own house, which I did a few months ago. The car can come later. This one still runs, and that’s all that I really need. Although, a little heat wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
My nose is frozen by the time I arrive at Alarik’s house. I scramble out of my car and hurry to the front door, desperate to get inside. My tolerance to the cold is super low, if it wasn’t obvious. I knock on the door, but with my gloved hand, it makes next to no sound. With an annoyed sound, I tug off the glove and rap on the door again with my bare—and immediately frozen—hand. I bounce on my toes while I wait for someone to answer.
Remi’s there within a few seconds, and I rush inside before she manages to open the door more than a few inches. She shakes her head at me and closes the door while I wait for her to explain what’s going on.
“Do you want to take off your stuff?” She eyes all my cold weather gear.
“Not yet. I want to warm up first.”
“Come in here, we’ll turn the fireplace on,” she says, and I follow obediently, the temptation of a fire too good to pass up.
Walking into the massive living room, I see Dante sitting on a couch, looking far too relaxed. He has this lazy sensuality about him that makes it seem like he’s lounging no matter what he’s doing. I can imagine him with a tumbler full of liquor, leaning against a piano while wearing a tux, his bow tie dangling around his neck. He has that kind of movie legend good looks. Between him and Remi, there is a sickening amount of hotness in the room. I find Dante a little intimidating, which I know is insane. Silas is six foot four and a massive wall of muscle and could probably crush me with his bare hands, but I’m not scared of him in the least. At least physically. He’s done a pretty good job of pulverizing me mentally.
Dante and I exchange polite hello’s before I round on Remi. “What happened? Is Hazel okay?”
“Someone attacked her at the store. Alarik’s with her upstairs,” Remi replies as she sits on another couch that’s across from the one where Dante has draped himself.
“Uh, should we take her to the hospital instead?” I ask, my eyes darting to the stairs. “If she’s hurt, shouldn’t she see a doctor?”
Dante stands up and walks over the fireplace. And there he goes again, lounging against the mantel like he’s shooting a GQ spread. “Alarik will take care of her.”
My eyes dart back and forth between Remi and Dante. Why on earth would Hazel be better here at Alarik’s, whose profession is… huh… what does Alarik do for a living? I frown and look around the room. Obviously, something that pays really well. Now that I’m thinking about it, what the hell does Dante do? Or Silas? I shake off my wandering thoughts and decide to trust Remi’s judgement. She wouldn’t put Hazel in danger, so I guess if she thinks Hazel’s okay, then I’ll go with her on this.
I still haven’t worked up enough heat to take off my coat, but I do remove my earmuffs and hold them in my lap. My head swings to the doorway when I hear the front door open and close. And then my stomach flips with excitement—damn traitor—when Silas walks in. I squeeze my earmuffs to my stomach, wanting to punish that body part for reacting that way. But then my heart starts to beat faster, and I give up, because obviously my brain and body are not in sync with one another.
Silas stops just at the threshold of the doorway as his green gaze lands on me. I swear a smile flickers over his lips, which has me pressing mine together in a disapproving line. I look away and find Remi and Dante watching us both. Eyes shooting back and forth as if they’re trying to suss out what’s going on between me and Silas. They both look way too amused. A-holes.
Silas ignores them as he strides into the room and sits on the couch next to me. I’ve spent the last year giving myself mental forehead slaps about how stupid he makes me feel, and now he’s sitting next to me like we’re bffs in need of a good catch up. I pointedly ignore him and stare into the fire, trying to shr
ink down into my huge puffy coat.
“How’s Hazel?” Silas’s deep voice rumbles beside me, and goosebumps break out over my skin. I’m sure it’s just from the cold, even though I’m starting to sweat a little. My sudden overheating issue isn’t from the fire. No. I can actually feel the heat radiating from Silas. Why is he so warm? I have this urge to tuck into his side and siphon off some of that warmth, but don’t because I’m strong… or something. Sure. Right.
“We don’t know. Alarik has her locked away upstairs.”
As if that was a cue, a pair of very loud moans echoes down the hall, coming from Alarik’s bedroom. My cheeks turn bright red because there is no doubt in my mind what is causing those sounds. How a moan can travel all the way from upstairs in this giant house and down to us in the living room is beyond me, but it does. Remi bursts out laughing, and Dante smirks.
“Well, it sounds like she’s doing just fine,” he says.
As if to punctuate that statement, there is another loud sound that might be Alarik’s name, but it’s kind of garbled and broken. Silas snickers beside me, and I jerk my head in his direction.
“Hey, Toots.” He winks at me. Winks. “Don’t be getting ideas now.” He chuckles as if that’s funny.
My mouth gapes as I stare at him, stupefied. I pop up off the couch, narrowing my eyes in my best attempt at an angry glare. My shoulders are up by my ears I’m so tense, which means that my head is practically buried in my coat like a turtle. I’m still holding my earmuffs, and I poke his chest with them, as all of my anger, frustration, embarrassment, loneliness, and heartbreak bubble over and spill out on the cause of all those feelings.
“As if I’d ever let you touch me, you… you… dickhead.”
The smile fades from Silas’s face as he blinks up at me.