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I was ravenous for her. Like a wolf for a rabbit.
Within seconds of the third knock pattern, the deadbolt clicked, and the door squealed open. Standing there with auburn hair, a terra-cotta tan, and brilliant green eyes was a shapely woman wearing a snug blouse and loose jeans. She smiled so wide that I thought she would explode at the sight of us.
“Sweetie,” she wheezed as she yanked Regina into a hug, “you can’t go another three years without calling me.”
Regina groaned while wrapping her arms around her friend. They were the same height. “Sorry, things have been hectic.”
“I’m so sorry about your father.”
“Thanks. I just…” Regina cleared her throat, buried her face in her friend’s blouse, and reappeared with wet eyes. “Thank you, Destiny.”
Destiny tugged her into the foyer. “Come along, you two. It’s best to never keep a vampire waiting.”
I peered through the doorway suspiciously. “He’s already here?”
“And has been for twenty minutes.” Destiny waved me inside with growing impatience. “Alright, let’s go, wolf boy.”
I glared at her as I caught up with Regina. “Don’t call me that.”
As Regina took my hand, Destiny lit up with realization. “Oh, sorry about that.” She shut the door and locked the deadbolt. “I never know when to keep my eyes and hands off men. Ask GG about it.”
Regina beamed as she glanced at Destiny. “You always did have a habit of wanting what was mine.”
While the women shared a laugh, I stared stupidly at the woman holding my hand—the very same woman who I had plowed into a new dimension just last night. She was joking about owning me.
And here I thought she didn’t believe in things like that.
With a flirtatious grin, I released her hand and favored Destiny for a moment. If Regina meant what she said, then she would react. But if she didn’t, then no harm would come from kissing Destiny on the hand as a greeting.
“We haven’t been properly introduced,” I teased as I took Destiny’s hand. “My name is Eric Barrett of the Hayden-Bravecrest pack.”
Destiny observed me with heated interest as I kissed her knuckles. “Well, color me with beets, mister. You sure do know how to make a lady blush.”
Regina clicked her tongue as she stepped between us, breaking my contact with Destiny’s hand. “Alright, pleasantries can come later. We have a meeting.” She shot me a hard look. “Don’t we, mister?”
“We certainly do, Mistress.”
Now, both ladies were blushing.
And I might have been a little too proud of that.
Regina caught up with me as I perused the miniature aisles. It was a standard new-age shop with crystals, incense, and common magical books for mainstream practitioners. A couple of huge stone sundials sat at the frontmost store window, then the four miniature rows of wares, and then a few glass displays containing jewelry and talismans led to a wooden counter.
Behind the counter was a purple curtain with an inky golden sun and moon. Celestial stars burst from the center painting, creating a universe of silk for the onlooker to admire. A typical point-of-sale computer that couldn’t have been older than 2015 sat on the counter next to a card reader.
Another stack of books. More incense. The whole place smelled like the worst kind of potpourri. Dragon’s blood was layered on top of myrrh, patchouli, and more pungent scents that I didn’t wish to remember later.
Could Regina do a memory spell for me to erase olfactory sense memories? I made a note to ask her about it later when we weren’t occupied or distracted.
Or in the middle of something else.
Destiny floated past us and plucked a silk sheet from the counter made of crimson and blotchy black tie-dye. She waved it over each of us and then invited us behind the counter. As soon as she swept back the curtain, a powerful, earthy musk smacked me in the face.
This vampire was old. He was an original descendent of the Castillo bloodline, one of the initial families to take the world by storm. Their trades brought life to the oceans, and their invasions of other lands brought with them their payment of betrayal.Everyone knew that story. It was as old as werewolves, the initial vampire family having broken a promise to a witch and then cursed to crave life for the rest of their days that would never come to an end. Unless a wound made me pure silver was left untreated, a vampire would never die.
Never. Ever.
And there he sat, the infamous Ander Méndez, a creature as rare as the artifacts his family kept in a crypt. Or so I assumed. He lifted his head regally, sitting so poshly that I assumed he was carved from wax instead of being the living dead. Tight curls of silk blond caressed his shoulders in what could have been a lion’s mane. Pale green eyes stared coldly at us, a quiet detachment I recognized in most of the fangs I encountered.
