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“I apologize,” I mumble against her fingers. “Mommy’s dress made me do it.”
Casey laughs as she drops her foot and turns to me, stepping in to press a kiss to my cheek before she murmurs, “Good. That’s why Mommy put it on.”
She steps back, her eyes glittering as she says, “I’ve decided we should keep having talks like we had in the library earlier. That was a good talk and there’s no reason not to talk, when we both enjoy it so much.”
My lips part, but before I can suggest that we discuss this later, Amy shouts indignantly, “But you’re not supposed to talk in the library! It’s a quiet place! You two are both trouble today.”
“Indeed,” I agree, laughing as we start down the hall toward the kitchen.
Amy informs me that I’ll be allowed to fetch her two slices of pepperoni pizza before going to change into my costume, but that I’d better hurry because we want to be the first ones at the cake walk so that we’ll get the very best cake.
Casey loops her arm through mine as she teases our bossy girl, “Yes, ma’am, general ma’am,” and I’m in heaven.
Heaven is every moment I spend with these two, with my family.
Too bad hell is on a pink boat in the marina, waiting for the sun to go down so she can unleash her petty vengeance upon us.
I would say that I hate Priscilla, but if she hadn’t made me what I am, I wouldn’t have lived long enough to meet Casey. I owe her for that. And maybe, if I start the night with a “thank you,” it will make things easier.
“And maybe flying monkeys will shoot out of your arse,” I mutter to myself as I change into the slightly musty costume and hurry to rejoin the girls in the kitchen.
But by the time I get back, Amy’s plate has been cleared and the only sign of Casey is a lingering hint of her perfume. My stomach is already sinking.
When I hear an unmistakable tinkle of laughter from out on the lawn, it plummets like an elevator with the cables cut, entering full free fall as I rush outside to see Priscilla at Casey’s throat.
Chapter Thirteen
CASEY
I’m not sure what I expected from Priscilla by way of greeting, but a girlish squeal and big hug sure as shit wasn’t it.
“Oh, you’re just darling,” she coos into my hair, clinging to my shoulders like a drunk debutante after too many glasses of champagne. “And you smell absolutely delicious.”
She shifts her face into closer communion with my neck, inhaling deeply in a way that sends a shiver of foreboding through my bones. I’m pretty sure not even an ancient vampire would dare feed on a human without permission in public—they’d do it in private, so they’d have plausible deniability if the human filed a claim with the high council—but still…
I’m not enjoying having a strange vampire’s mouth this close to my throat.
I don’t enjoy having anyone’s mouth this close to my throat, with the exception of Amy and Edmond.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Edmond growls from barely a foot away, “Get away from her. Now!”
He sounds pissed, but Priscilla only giggles and snuggles closer to my throat.
“Oh, Edmond, don’t be selfish.” She sighs, her cool breath on my skin making me shiver again. “You’ll have eternity with this beautiful creature. You can afford to share a moment or two of her company.” She pulls back, her bright blue eyes beaming innocently up into mine. “Isn’t that right, lovely girl?”
So that’s her game.
She’s trying to see if I know the truth.
Instinctively, I decide it’s best to play dumb. “Of course.” I force a smile as I glance over to make sure Amy is still engrossed at the fishing booth with Annie and Aurora, then turn back to add, “Though I don’t know if we’ll have eternity. I’m not sure where I stand on becoming a vampire.”
Priscilla swishes a tiny, lace-gloved hand through the air. “Oh pish, you’ll love it. There’s nothing better on this Goddess forsaken planet. But of course, you still have time to make up your mind.” She bares her slightly crooked teeth in a coquettish smile. “You’re so young. Just a sweet, succulent little baby, really.”
Her words make my skin crawl and something deep in my brain screams that I should run before I’m skewered and roasted over an open fire, but I laugh along with her.
“How old is your pet, Edmond?” Priscilla turns to him, a brittle note creeping into her voice. “Twenty-two? Twenty-three?”
“I’m thirty-one,” I say, trying to remember that she’s a gazillion years old and it’s not completely weird that she’s talking about me like I’m a fetus.
