I grab his little nose gently.
“That’s enough.”
I let go of his nose, and he climbs his hefty self into my arms, using his hand to pat my arm.
“I’m not complaining. I love being the man of the house.”
I scratch his chin and ignore his words as my phone chimes with a message.
Unknown
Hi this is Bobby. Violet said you might be interested in getting dinner tonight. How does Howl at the Moon sound?
Gus laughs in my arms. I ignore him, add Bobby’s number to my phone, and type up my reply.
Me
I’d love to. Is 7:30 good?
Bobby
Looking forward to it.
“Poor bastard doesn’t stand a chance,”Gus says, petting my arm, and I wonder if he’s right, and what’s so wrong with me that I can’t let anyone in?
Howl at the Moon is not my ideal location for a date, not even in the slightest. It’s somewhere I go all the time, nothing about it is special or screams romance. It’s a wolf dive bar/restaurant that is conveniently downtown.
But I’m keeping an open mind.
Even if he isn’t a vampire…I swallow that thought down, like I do every time it rattles in my mind. I need to get a grip.
I might over exaggerate when it comes to my encounters with men. I’m sure most of the coven assumes I’m promiscuous with the way I talk and joke about sex, but the fact is I’ve only had sex once and that was a one-night stand with a kind human boy when I was nineteen. Then of course there are my endless fantasies about being with a faceless vampire.
Maybe I should seek therapy, or maybe I just need to try harder with men who still have a pulse.
It’s just every time I do, this instinctual thought rips me back and pure disgust fills me. The fantasies I have aren’t filled with human men, or semi-appropriate supernatural men. What I want is a desired taste that I’m too self-conscious to bring up to most. Only Iris and Violet have heard me bring up vampires before, and only because I trust them with my life.
Even if the rules of the coven have changed. Vampires are still secretive and dangerous, and they should absolutely not be considered for my dating pool. It’s a fantasy that needs to stay just that—a fantasy that gets locked away.
Damn, I need this date to go well.
A bat flies over the entrance of the building and it feels like a bad omen as a tall man in jeans and a plaid shirt approaches me. He’s handsome enough, dirty blonde hair, and brown eyes. There are no tingles anywhere, but I plaster a smile on my face and shake his hand.
“I’m glad you could meet me tonight,” he says, no southern twang in his voice at all.
“Of course, Violet had nothing but nice things to say,” I lie. All she told me was his height and that he seemed kind enough.
“Shall we?” he says, holding out an arm as we walk through the busy restaurant.
We sit at the table and order our drinks as the small talk starts. He’s friendly, and handsome, and yet, I feel nothing.
I don’t feel attraction, butterflies, anything. I never do.
“So, Violet tells me you have a penchant for earth magic. What does that mean?” he asks.
I give him a smile, he’s a good date, asking me questions and not making it all about himself like I am internally. I know it’s not an issue of not liking men, all my daydreams surround a faceless one. I want a partner, I want romance and Hecate knows I want a physical relationship.
“I house the coven’s gardens, making all the herbs and plants that we need. I’m also quite good at water and fire manipulation. Where did you move from before you joined the Walker Pack?”
