“No.”
Vivien bit her lip thoughtfully. “Or is your love language gifting me souls of the dead? Maybe a skeleton? I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a spiffed-up skull. Or can you get me one of those shrunken heads?”
I rolled my eyes. “You are impossible.”
She rocked on her heels, that impish twinkle in her eye. “The words you are searching for areimpossibly cute.”
When Vivien started toward the living room, I pointed in the opposite direction. “You can either drink over the sink, or in the bathroom; you are covered in blood.”
“I wanted to change anyway,” she said, sticking her tongue out before disappearing into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
With a sigh, I rubbed my face before pulling out my phone. The hotel was a well-oiled machine, but some decisions required my approval. I sifted through my inbox of requests from DJs and esteemed chefs asking for the honor of working at Sinopolis. Vivien emerged only fifteen minutes later in a black sweatshirt and boxers.Mysweatshirt and boxers.
Irritation warred with another intense wave of arousal. She was impossibly sexy in my clothes, with her lose, wet hair. Her clean scent was almost too enticing to resist. My thumbs itched to hook into the boxers to drag them down her hips and…
“Is the fact your entire wardrobe is black because it’s a ‘death thing,’” she said, making air quotes, “or because it’s slimming?”
My regular bouts of lust for her were more than irksome, especially since she had the mannerisms of a willful child. I was about to lay into her when my phone vibrated.
With a glance at the screen, I pointed at Vivien. “I am stepping into the next room to take this call, but if you so much as make a wrong move, I will drop everything to make your life a living hell.”
Vivien bounced on the balls of her feet with nervous energy. There was a flush to her face I hadn’t noticed before. The blood must have invigorated her. She looked positively hyper now.Fantastic.
Reluctant to leave a keyed-up Vivien to her own devices, I still had a call to take. It was a short walk down the hall to my office, and I closed the door behind me and slid behind my executive’s desk. As I answered the call, I turned on my computer, lighting up multiple screens.
“Hello.” I spoke with monotone disinterest, as though the caller had interrupted me while I was dealing with tedious paperwork.
“Is it true?” a female voice asked.
“Is what true?” I asked, though my stomach dropped.
“Oh gods, it is, isn’t it?”
I pulled up the security cameras focused on my penthouse. Vivien was tearing through the kitchen, pulling out metal bowls, spatulas, and flour.
What is she up to?
“I have the situation under control, Bianca,” I said.
My reapers were out sweeping the city. While my reapers couldn’t track the undead, vampires left a trail of death in their wake. It wouldn’t be long before their destruction hit my radar and then I would move in with swift, violent action of my own.
A firm tone entered Bianca’s voice. “We must meet. Tonight. And bring the sekhor with you. I have to see her.”
It was useless pretending I didn’t know who she was talking about. Checking my watch, I saw that it was 12:30 a.m.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine.” We set up a time and place, though I was already dreading it. The last thing I wanted was more people involved in this matter. The plan had been to contain things quickly and quietly, but if Bianca was calling, there was likely more I needed to know.
Stalking back into the kitchen, I found Vivien covered in flour, furiously stirring something that resembled Play-Doh in a metal bowl.
“I was gone for two minutes. How did you make such an absolute mess in that short of time?” I stared at my kitchen in horror. Flour and goop were splattered across my black countertops. White handprints covered my cabinets, making it look as though a handsy ghost had been in here.
Vivien glared at me, still attempting to stir the heavy glop in the bowl. “I’m baking cookies.”
My mouth opened and then snapped shut. When I finally found my composure, I asked, “Why are you making cookies?”
Vivien dropped the gigantic dough-like blob onto a baking sheet. “Like I said, I think I was a baker in my former life, elbow deep in muffins and cakes all day. So I figured, hey! Muscle-memory. Maybe if I started baking, whip up something fabulous like I used to, I might jog my brain into remembering more about my previous life.”
Then the vampire opened the oven and to place the mound of dough on a rack. Before she could close the door, I was at her side, my hand on her arm. “You are not putting that in my oven.”
