He smirks, leaning against his desk. Each of his movements is graceful and effortless. He has a southern accent. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Maybe he comes from a prestigious family where you learn ten different types of forks and to never put your elbows on the table when you eat.
“Vampires live incredibly long lives. Lives that are built around keeping our secrets and protecting ourselves. I mentioned the grimoires. There are other spells to help…handle…a vampire if necessary.”
“Listen. I didn’t kill that vampire. I think you have the wrong witch.”
“No. I most certainly have the right one. Here, we’ll start with the first item and spell,” he says, striding over toward the bookcase, his finger trailing along spines that look like first editions, some of which could be ancient. “Ah, here we go.”
The grimoire is small, a brown leather book, clearly made by hand. It’s fraying around the edges as he opens up a page.
“One moment,” he says, and as soon as I blink he’s gone, and just as quickly, the door to his office shuts and closes. My hair whips around from the movement, and he stands before me like he never left.
I swallow thickly. I mean, the lore the humans spew about vampires is all over the place. I’d assumed the speed part was true, but I didn’t realize they’d be this fast.
“This will be a perfect conduit. I believe the spell specifically says to wear it on your ring finger,” he says, handing me the piece of jewelry.
“It’s obscene,” I say, the words slipping out of me before I can filter myself. But truly, it’s a massive ring, clearly antique. It’s reminiscent of an art déco design with slender diamonds stacked next to each other, shaped almost like a tiara. “I don’t need something this fancy.” I try to save my insult.
He doesn’t shake his head, just tilts it to the left side once, a clear no.
“The gold in that ring belonged to a witch I knew a long time ago. She made the ring itself. The spell calls for a coven gifted ring,” he says.
I’ve barely even had a moment to read the damn thing with how fast he moves, and I glance down at the handwritten pages. The spell is in a looped cursive and sure enough it mentions that the piece of jewelry must have been forged by a magical being.
Warin watches me with stillness that makes me feel uncomfortable. I try to ignore his presence, which is next to impossible, as I read on.
My brows furrow as I reach the point in the passage where the witch explains the use of the spell.
“You’re giving me a grimoire with a spell that will protect me from vampires?” I ask, and blink as it sets in. “Wait, did you manipulate me into agreeing to help you for six months?”
He grins, his fangs shining next to the rest of his white, straight teeth. What it would feel like to have those fangs—no, bad. Very bad. This vampire is trapping us into a corner, not pushing us against the wall and ravishing us like some bodice ripper novel.
Something is absolutely wrong with me and I need to have my head checked immediately.
“No, darling. I fear you can’t blame me for this predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.”
“Why? Why would you give me this?” I ask.
He crowds my space, his arms grabbing the armrest of my chair, and I’m sure he can hear the way my pulse is beating like a war drum.
“Don’t worry, sunshine, I don’t bite.” He leans in, the ridge of his nose barely touching my ear. “Unless you ask me to.”
I swallow thickly, hoping he doesn’t notice that my heart is racing or that I’m turned on by his presumptive words. He pulls away from the chair quickly, almost like he’s collecting himself. He fiddles with his cufflinks that are perfectly in place and his tie that’s already flat.
“I hope you find this first task stimulating. You have till the end of the week. I will have Conner drive you home,” he says, his playful tone gone, as he rounds his desk and sits down in his chair.
“What if I…”
“What if you what?” he asks and I curse at myself.
Was I really about to ask this vampire—who clearly conned me—how to contact him if I needed him? I’ve officially lost it. Maybe Iris’ new potion to change my hair color made me lose all my brain cells.
“Nothing.” I grip the grimoire and slide the ring on my finger.
Warin watches the motion with an almost analytical gaze.
“I’ll be in touch. Conner,” he calls the man’s name in a low voice and the same man who dragged me here is standing at the door. I give him a shitty look, but he doesn’t even look at me. “Ensure that Miss Hallow returns home safely. She’s under my protection. Do you understand?”
I look between the two men, feeling like they’re speaking in some sort of code. How in the hell did I get here? What have I gotten myself into?
