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“Marco,” Callie’s voice comes from downstairs as I step into her room.A large wooden chest sits open by her closet, half buried with clothes needing to be folded and put away.“You’re supposed to say ‘polo’ and I know you can hear me,” she grumbles.
The chest is full of weapons, and a scythe with a handle made from carved human bone gets my attention.What kind of witch is she, having all these weapons?Witches don’t fight like this.They use spells and potions and are more or less passive in their attacks.I pick up the scythe, admiring how sharp it is.
“What the hell?”Callie appears in the doorway, slowly shaking her head at me.
“You’re not like a regular witch, are you?”I ask, looking at the handle of the scythe.
“I’m not a regular witch.I’m a cool witch,” she says with a wink, putting her hand on her hip.Maybe Eliza was right and there is something wrong with her.
“Seriously?”She shakes her head at my lack of response.“You’ve never seenMean Girls?”She throws out her hand and slams the lid of the chest closed.“And stop going through my things.”
I set the scythe down on her bed and stride right over to her.She sucks in a breath and her heart skips a beat again.Her shoulders go back, and I expect her to put on the air of wanting to move away again, mostly to convince herself she doesn’t want more.I lean in, pushing her limits even more.
Instead of turning her head or shoving away, she tips her head up, eyes meeting mine, and then slowly looks me over.Her body is reacting whether she wants it to or not, and it’s pissing her off.
That makes two of us, sweetheart.If we’re not going to kill each other, then we really should fuck and get this over with.
Callie conjures another string of magic and holds up her hand, reminding me how easily she can burn me.I bring my own hand up and wrap my fingers around hers, feeling the pulsing of magic through the air.She spreads her fingers and the magic floats up, disappearing into the air.Sliding my hand down to her wrist, I find her pulse point.
Drawing my fangs, I press my thumb against her wrist with a growl.I have her in my grasp.She’s right here in front of me for the taking, and fuck, I’ve never wanted anyone more.
“You don’t scare me,” she whispers, holding her ground as she puts her hand on my cheek.Her hand is warm and soft and will feel so good wrapped around my cock.“But do I scare you?”
She’s serious, looking me right in the eye as she speaks.Part of me knows she should—just a little.Not necessarily strike fear in my non-beating heart but should give me pause because this beautiful woman with her warm hand on my face possess the power to destroy me.
I retract my fangs.“Humans don’t scare me.”
She inhales deeply again, as if she’s trying to steady herself.We’re inches from each other, and my entire body yearns to press up against hers.“I’m not quite human though, am I?”
“No, you’re not.And I find that very appealing.”I look right into her brilliant green eyes and feel that same fluttering inside my chest as the darkness retreats.Her brows furrow, and I know she’s feeling it too.
Suddenly, she turns and breaks away.“I’m going to, uh, change.”She pushes me out of the room and closes the door.I run my hand through my hair, closing my eyes for a few seconds.
What the fuck is going on?It’s difficult for a witch to cast a spell on a vampire due to the fact that we’re technically dead.Callie might be the most powerful witch I’ve come across, but she’s not that powerful.
She’s drunk.Hasn’t opened any spell books or lit any candles.
And yet thinking she put a spell on me is easier to believe than what’s actually happening.
For the first time in over a thousand years…she’s making me feel.
ChapterSix
The stairs creak, and I turn away from the photographs in the living room to see Callie coming downstairs in pajamas and a robe.“Most women come back with less clothes on when I’m around.”
“I’m not like most women.”
“I see, and something tells me you rather enjoy being different.I’m right, aren’t I?”I ask, hoping to get another peak inside.Not being able to figure her out is bugging the shit out of me.An outsider would look at her and see a normal, albeit quirky, woman.There’s a book about the magical properties of crystals on her TV stand, which leads me to believe she’s not trying to hide who she is.
“Yeah.I do.Being normal is overrated.”She flops down on the couch and the black cat jumps right up into her lap.It looks at me like it understands what I am.The two others, a tabby and a calico, growl at me with the same look in their eyes.They don’t quite seem right either.
“It’s late,” Callie blurts.“For me at least.And I’ve had a long, trying day.Thank you again for taking me home.We have no debt.”
“We never did,” I tell her, smirking.
“What?”
“You think I don’t know when blood is spilled in my own place of business?I could smell it the second he sunk his teeth into her neck.”
