“I’m just dropping her off,” Cheresse continues. “And then I’ll head home and make dinner for us.”
Hunter shakes his head. “Cheresse, that’s not happening. You know we’re not . . .”
Things just got interesting. I let my hand slip off the luggage handle.
Cheresse’s voice trembles a bit. “Never mind him. We had a nasty fight, but that’s over.” Cheresse slips her hands around Hunter’s arm and tries to pull him closer, but he doesn’t budge. “Let me make it up to you, sweetheart.”
Hunter gives me a don’t believe it stare.
The clueless female persists. “Okay. We’ll meet up later. I’ll prepare something for Izzie and me instead. Give us a chance to get caught up.”
Marijuana may be legal here, but I think this female is smoking something a lot more potent. We have nothing to catch up on.
“That’s enough, Cheresse.” Hunter steps away from her before touching my forearm. “It was nice to meet you, Izzie. Don’t be a stranger.”
He saunters toward his bike, and I notice his jacket insignia—the words “Swords of the Infernal Night” with a picture of a sword sticking through a skull. A biker. Why did I have to attract his attention? Motorcycle clubs are notorious for treating women poorly. The males are players, and I don’t have time for those games.
“Hunter!” Cheresse calls behind him. “Don’t forget our agreement.”
Hunter whirls around. His hooded gaze bounces from Cheresse to me and back again. “Consider it void.”
He straddles his bike, cranks it up, and drives off.
I start to ask what he meant, but think better of it. “Thanks for the lift.”
Cheresse loses her polite demeanor. Looking down her nose, she says, “Don’t even think about it. He’s mine.”
Cutting my dark eyes at the statuesque female, I’m ready to deliver my own warning. Unnecessary. My plans don’t include the shit unfolding between the couple. Emotions, however, churn like a storm brewing beneath my skin. I don’t possess powers, but I still want to beat the crap out of Cheresse. Instead of ripping into the stupid female, I roll my suitcase toward the building.
The inn’s interior is an enchanting marriage of the past and the present. I’m appreciative of the modern fixtures and the centuries old architecture. Behind the desk is an attractive female with brown hair and odd gray-green eyes. Moroi. Vampire.
“Can I help you?” she says.
“You must be Michaela. I was told I could get a room.”
“Great.” She reaches for a large book. “How long are you staying?”
Before I can speak, my phone buzzes with a message.
“Excuse me.” I remove the device from my back pocket and peer at the screen.
Senora Graves: Izzie, you need to stay away. Chekhov was here looking for you. He said if he ever sees you again, you’re dead.
I’m tempted to send Senora a reply, but I can’t. Kazimir Chekhov undoubtedly has his goons out, tracking my whereabouts. The man has three million reasons to find me. Senora is powerful, but I won’t knowingly compromise her.
Tomorrow, I’ll purchase a burner phone. For now, I need to find a more permanent place to stay. Facing the owner, I ask, “Any possibility you have something for long-term stays?”
A cautious gaze rakes over me for a moment before she says, “I have a one-bedroom cottage available. We just need to get you signed in with the Registry.”
“Registry?”
Michaela leans over the counter and lowers her voice. “The Court likes to know where the supes are in town.”
“How did you know?”
She points to my neck. “I’ll call Addie to come do your tattoo.”
* * *
Minutes later, I’m pacing the floor instead of unpacking, unable to focus on the task. I still can’t wrap my mind around the whole course of events—getting my ass lost and then hopping into a truck with a stranger. Fuck! I left the rental car! How the hell am I going to get that back? No way am I spending my recent fortune on somebody’s used vehicle.
A knock on the cottage door disrupts my mental scolding. On the other side is a girl around my age dressed in ripped jeans, a thick black sweater, and knee-high boots. Her light brown hair is in a ponytail, and her brown eyes blink at me from behind a pair of black-framed glasses. She’s carrying an old leather satchel.
Shit. Guarantee she’s the chick wanting to do the damned tattoo. What kind of town requires ink to live in it? Another reason for me to hit the road as soon as the sun comes up.
“Izzie?” she asks.
“Maybe.” Contempt curls in my voice.
The girl’s gaze narrows briefly. “My name is Addie, and I’m here to do your tattoo. Maybe we could talk first? I’ll answer the questions you have.”
Tilting my head to the side, I ask, “How did you know?”
“Part of my job is answering questions for all newcomers. I assumed you’d have some.” She looks over my shoulder. “Can I come in?”
I take a deep breath. This girl isn’t responsible for my misfortune. Stepping to one side, I say, “Sure.”
Addie enters the living room, takes a seat on the sofa, and places her bag on the floor. “I realize all of this is overwhelming. Ask me anything. I’ll do my best to fill you in.”
Although I should feel relieved not to be doing the ink right away, I’m not. The events of the day have me so worked up. Usually when I get this bad, I find someone to fuck me hard—get me off. What do I do here?
“I can help you,” Addie says quietly.
“Sorry, I’m not into females.”
The girl smiles. “I’m not offering what you think. Sit down and close your eyes.”
As soon as I take a seat beside her, I feel Addie’s hand on my arm followed by a tingling. It mixes with the brewing storm beneath my skin. A sense of calm dissipates the fury. I open my eyes.
“What did you do?”
“It’s a lot easier for us to talk without your anger. Your emotions surround you like a cloud.” The pleasantness suddenly drops from her voice. “I’m here to help you, but don’t mistake my kindness.”
“Got it.” Last thing I need is to get on the wrong side of a bruja.
Addie continues, “My family, the Beaumonts, is one of the founding families of the Luna Coven. That’s the main coven of witches in town.”
I sit back. “Witches, vampires, nagual . . . What else lives here?”
“Shifters, mages, fae, sirens, gargoyles . . . pretty much any species and subspecies you can think of.”
Interesting. Back in New York, I never knew what was lurking around me until it was usually too late. Once, I made the mistake of pissing off a bruja. She threatened to send me back in time to the Maya. Thankfully, Senora saved me from spending the rest of eternity with the ancestors.
“So, only supernaturals live here?”
“No. The population here is split, with half being humans. For some reason, the town tends to attract nonhumans. We do our best to keep the town secret, but it hasn’t stopped supes from finding us. According to legend, it’s always been that way.”
Sorry, I’m not convinced. Supernaturals stay hidden for a reason. There’s no way that we can coexist openly with humans. Shit happens. “Next you’ll tell me that everyone here gets along.”
“That’s what’s supposed to happen.” Addie doesn’t say anything else, and I wonder what she’s hiding.
“Tell me why getting this tattoo is so important?”
Addie reaches into her bag and pulls out a tattoo kit. “All supernaturals are marked when they come to Havenwood Falls. The design signs you into the Registry so the Court knows who’s in town. Visitors get a temporary tattoo.”
“Court?”
“The Court of the Sun and the Moon. They try to make sure we all get along.” She places the kit on the coffee table.
“And when that doesn’t happen?”
“It’s not something you need to worry about.”
Addie’s gaze darts away from me. “We have our rules, mostly don’t kill the humans.” She looks in my direction again. “Besides that, think of Havenwood Falls as a safe place. You’ll find more naguals here. They’ll be able to help you through your transformation.”
“You can tell?”
Addie gives me a pointed look. “Have you been listening?”
“Witch. Right.” How could I forget?
Removing a sketch pad, Addie says, “Let’s talk about your design. From the look of your totem, I suspect you might want something permanent. I can make it invisible if you prefer.”
Her words alert me. “What about my totem?”
Addie sighs deeply and gives me a thoughtful expression. “Your soul mate is here. Because of my job, I’ve had to learn about all the different supernaturals and magic. From what I remember about nagual tradition, when you discover the one meant for you, your totem glows.”
And there it is. The main reason I need to leave this town—the sooner, the better.
“Any idea of what design you want?”
An invisible design sounds better than having ink splattered over my skin. I’m not totally convinced that this is in my best interest, but I ask, “Can you do anything Mayan?”
“What are you thinking?”
“Something with Ixchel, the moon goddess.”
Addie laughs.
“What’s so funny?”
“You just told me who your mate is.”
My eyes narrow. “How?”
“Your choice in tattoo. Kinich Ahau is Hunter James’s design.”
Damn. That’s the sun god Ixchel’s husband. I am so screwed.
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Flirting With Death Page 12