He’s ridiculously handsome, and not someone you would ever consider being someone’s father. He has shiny, medium brownish-blonde hair, cheekbones that could cut glass, and blue eyes that almost look ethereal. His gaze turns to me, his smile more predatory now as he uses his fang to grip the end of his black leather glove and free his hands, steepling them on his desk.
It’s more attractive than it should be, and I try to calm my breathing. Can these vampires hear my heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings?
“You’re dismissed,” the man says to the other vampires. He’s clearly higher up in the food chain, which has a mixture of fear and wonder flicking through me. Samantha pulls me to the side and all the men are gone before I can even gather my thoughts. “What have you brought me?” he asks.
Hopefully not your next victim,I think to myself.
I swallow thickly, my hand trembles as I debate pulling out my wand. At the very least, I could call for help. I’m not great with teleporting magic, but I think if I really needed to, I could use it. Fuck, I should have taken Violet more seriously about learning the skill.
“A witch,” Samantha says, ushering me to the chair on the opposite of this man's desk.
The man rubs the bridge of his nose with his now bare fingers and nods.
“Leave us,” he says to his…daughter?
“You need?—”
The man stands up so fast it barely registers as he grabs Samantha’s arm and drags her out of the office.
“Go home. I’ll send Betty to follow,” he says. Who the hell is Betty? And why would a vampire need an escort?
Samantha rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. Okay, so maybe they are father and daughter in some strange way. He doesn’t look much older than her; he was probably turned in his mid-twenties, but who knows how long he’s been roaming the earth.
I should be pissing my pants right about now, sitting in front of a who knows how old of a vampire. Yet, I feel a keen sense of adventure and, well, I’m quite nosey.
Before I even get a moment to glance around his office, the door is shut, and he’s taking the seat next to me, instead of in his high back chair on the other side of his desk.
My breath hitches as I take him in. Now that I think about it, every vampire I saw in the bar on my way in was effortlessly gorgeous. But he takes the cake. His beauty is timeless and classic, like a European prince, back when they used to be hot. Though his sinister smirk tells me he’s far from refined royalty.
He tilts his head at me, analyzing me, while I sit here stupefied and wondering why I couldn’t curb this interest in vampires in another way. Why did I need to come here to see what they were all about, let alone by myself? No one in my coven knows my whereabouts.
“Tell me, are you suicidal or stupid, witch?”
Valid question.
My mouth parts in shock, and he stares at my lips for a long moment. He leans forward, his cold fingertips gently gripping my chin to face him. His skin is cool, but not unpleasant. I wonder if he could effortlessly crush my jaw if he wanted to.
“What? Did you come here for a drop of vampire blood? Or something even more nefarious? It makes sense they wouldsend you,” he says, glancing down at my cleavage that is sitting high in the pink frilly dress. “Tell me, does your cunt of a High Priestess want a war with me too? Cause I can tell you right now, we’re nothing like those wolves. Oz would destroy your coven in a night.”
He comes even closer, still holding my jaw as my heart races in my chest. “I could kill you right now, so easily. I’d take my time too, devouring every drop of your magical blood. Then I’d go to each and every home of your coven and do the same thing.”
His hand slides from my chin to my neck, his thumb on my pulse point. Fear lacing through my veins, along with something else I’ve never truly experienced. I can’t pinpoint the emotion as I blink, staring into his aqua eyes.
“It’s weak of Aster to send a messenger in such a pretty, tempting package,” he says, drawing his thumb up and down my beating pulse point. His chest doesn’t move, he doesn’t breathe, and is eerily still as he stares at me.
I lick my lips and finally find my words.
“No one in my coven knows I’m here.”
He pulls back, smiling with bright white fangs.
“Then what’s stopping me from locking you in my basement for eternity as my pretty, little magical blood bag?”
This is embarrassing. Not only am I probably going to die, but how do I convince him I came to the bar for a one-night stand or something more? Not to start a supernatural war between vampires and witches?
His hand is back on my chin again, this time it’s rougher as he forces me to stare into his gaze. They dilate quickly, the pupils nearly trembling as he speaks.
“Why are you here?” His tone is pure magic, commanding my obedience, and I find myself wanting to comply.
