Page 5 of Tick Tock, Darling

“Of course he does.”

He bowed slightly. “He sent me to protect you.”

Something went tight and hot under my sternum. I’d pulled Angelo Santi out of two messes he couldn’t magic his way out of, and he’d never once sent a man to hold my hand while I worked. He’d asked me for help. I had never asked him for any.

I crossed my arms. “Protection. I don’t need a playboy vampire to protect me.”

“Ouch.” He put his hand over his heart. “You don’t approve of me.” He sounded hurt, but it was a ploy—he wanted me to say I approved of him. His way of luring me in. I wasn’t falling for it.

“I’ve seen the line of broken hearts you’ve left. You go through women like water. Never looking back after you’ve had them.”

“I see my reputation precedes me.” He cast an appreciative eye over me. His gaze locked with mine. “Maybe I haven’t met the right woman.”

“Puh-lease.” I made myself hold his eyes. “That’s such a charmer line.”

He stepped closer. Close enough that I got his breath—something spicy, warm—and my stomach dropped and my whole arm came up in gooseflesh where he hadn’t even touched me yet.

Then he did. He ran his palm down my arm. “Charmer, am I?”

Don’t move. Don’t you dare move.

“No, you’re not. Not even a little.”

He dropped his hand and I could still feel where it had been.

He pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear and I leaned into his hand before I knew I was doing it. Half an inch. Enough. “How disappointing. But you are. Ever since I’ve met you⁠—”

Liar. I rolled my eyes. “You couldn’t stop thinking about me?”

“It’s true. You’re exceptional.”

“An exceptional witch. That’s why Angelo contacted me. So, if you don’t mind—” I put my hand on his chest, his heart thumping beneath my palm. But I don’t know whose was beating louder—his or mine. I brushed past him. “I have to deal with magic—not blood.”

He clasped my hand and kissed my wrist. “Are you so sure?”

More tingles rushed through me, but I yanked my hand away. I wasn’t going to play his game. I refused to get hurt again. “Positive.”

“You seemed to have a reaction to that pile of bricks.”

He noticed too much. Something that made me uneasy. I preferred to go unnoticed.

I bristled then flicked my hand. “The bricks radiate black magic. Anyone would have a reaction to that.”

“Sure.” He came a few steps closer, looking past me at the corner instead of at me. “Somebody stacked them. Somebody who wanted them stacked. That’s not a thing you do to bricks unless there’s something under them worth the trouble.” He tipped his head. “Something you came here for, maybe.”

I headed back toward the bricks. Even if I puked my guts out, I was tearing them down. “You don’t know what you’re looking at.”

He caught my arm. “I’ve been around dark objects⁠—”

Heat spread from where his hand closed again. Not magic. Something else, and I had no room for it. You only got hurt with love.

I pulled free. “Yes. I know. Smuggler for Angelo.”

He shrugged. “It’s a living.”

So nonchalant. Didn’t he know what that could do to a person? I gritted my teeth and reached for another brick. The dark magic rolled over me again and my étouffée made another run at freedom.

“Allow me.” Caspian brushed past me and pulled the bricks down one by one. They cracked against the floor and the dust came up gray.