“Can’t blame them. You think she’s planning something?”
“Perhaps. Or it could be as simple as the melancholy the holidays bring for some.”
I stop to think about whether a psycho like Jasmine could possibly get ‘melancholy’.
I flop onto my bed, reaching for the stash of chocolate I keep in my bedside drawer. “Want some?” I offer, holding out a bar.
He shakes his head. “I don’t eat.”
“Right. Vampire thing.” I break off a piece and pop it into my mouth. “So what do you think she’s up to?”
“I think the better question is why you should concern yourself with it.” He fixes me with that intense stare that always makes me feel like he’s reading every thought I’ve ever had. “Enjoy the reprieve while it lasts.”
“Because I have this feeling that we’re in the calm before the storm.” I gesture out the window, where the snow is now coming down so heavily I can barely see the buildings across the quad. “Speaking of storms.”
Before Lucien can respond, there’s a knock at the door, then it swings open to reveal Soren, a bottle in one hand and a dangerous smirk on his face. “Evening, children. Am I interrupting something wholesome and boring?” He kicks the door shut behind him and holds up the bottle. “I brought supplies for our party.”
“We’re having a party?” I ask, mouth full of chocolate.
“Ribbit?” Hank hops over to us.
Lucien eyes the bottle with disdain. “Where did you get that?”
“Liberated it from Professor Moriaen’s private collection,” Soren says, dropping onto my desk chair. “Don’t worry, he’s been hoarding it for decades. Probably doesn’t even remember he has it.”
“That’s theft,” Lucien points out.
“That’s redistribution of resources,” Soren corrects. “Besides, it’s Yule. Season of giving and all that. I’m giving us the gift of getting tipsy on extraordinarily expensive wine.”
I snort. “And I’m sure Professor Moriaen is thrilled about his contribution to holiday cheer.”
“He left yesterday for his sister’s place. He’ll never know.” Soren winks at me. “Unless you’re planning to rat me out, little witch.”
“My lips are sealed.” I reach for the bottle. “What is this anyway?”
Soren hands it over, his fingers brushing mine deliberately. “Something very old and very potent. Like me.”
I examine the label, faded with age. The bottle itself feels heavy, the glass thick and dark. “Should we be drinking this? It looks like a museum piece.”
“It’s wine, not the Mona Lisa,” Soren says. “Wine is meant to be drunk. Especially during the holidays.”
Lucien moves closer, taking the bottle from me to examine it himself. “This is from the blood moon harvest of 1772. It’s worth more than this entire building.”
“See? A man of taste.” Soren nods approvingly at Lucien. “All the more reason to drink it now, before the world ends or Jasmine emerges from whatever hole she’s crawled into.”
“Do you have something to open it, or are you going to magic the cork out?” I ask.
In answer, Soren produces a corkscrew from his pocket. “I came prepared.”
There’s something surreal about sitting in my dorm room with a vampire and an incubus, about to drink wine older than America, while a blizzard rages outside. It’s as far from normal as you can get, but right now, it feels more familiar than anything else.
The cork comes out with a pop, and immediately the room fills with a rich, earthy scent from the wine. Soren takes a sniff, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation. “Gorgeous,” he murmurs.
“We don’t have glasses,” I point out.
Soren laughs before he takes a swig directly from the bottle, then offers it to me.
I hesitate only a second before accepting. Our fingers touch again as he passes it, and this time I know it’s deliberate. The wine is surprisingly smooth, not that I’m a connoisseur. Tony’s bar didn’t exactly have an upscale clientele. It’s rich and complex, tasting of dark fruits and spice and other things I can’t name. “That’s... wow.”
