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p; What the hell?
He’d somehow found a way through Vojalie’s mist. But on what planet could that ever be possible?
Down he levitated, through the mist until he pierced the shroud and entered her backyard.
He looked around. It was a small space she loved tending. The brick walls were covered with clematis vines just starting to bloom. The grass was green. Most of the flowers in the different beds were pink. No surprise there.
She was a hopeless romantic and the vampire she wanted had just landed in her backyard.
She wobbled to her feet and nearly knocked her too tall wine glass over. She caught it and settled it back on its base. By then, he’d seen her.
She smiled and waved, but his lips were set in a grim line. He looked angry, but she couldn’t imagine what he had to be mad about.
Moving toward the doors, she almost tripped over the thick things on her feet. Right. Her sexy pink bunny slippers.
She giggled again.
Okay, maybe the glass had held more than two cups.
She unlatched the sliding part of the wall of windows and pulled it back. He levitated swiftly toward her.
When she stepped aside, he flew in.
“I see you made it through Vojalie’s mist. I’d better let her know it’s not as secure as she thought.”
“The mist is fine. Davido directed me to a keyhole only I can use. Vojalie prepared it for me.” He turned to her, his gaze taking in her lovely apparel, including the slippers. His scowl deepened. He dropped down to stand on the tile floor.
“You don’t like the bunnies? I think they’re adorable?” She wigged her toes which made the ears flop a little.
“What? Are you six?”
Her amusement waned. “I wear them when I’m sad. Okay?” She let him live with that. “What are you doing here, anyway? Do you want some tea or something? Coffee? Wine? I’ve got lots of wine. I stocked up a few days ago. I should have stocked up on other things as well. The cream’s gone off.” She was drunk-rambling now.
She headed into the hallway and back to the kitchen. She’d forgotten her glass. Oh, well. She’d get another.
His voice followed her. “I didn’t come here for a drink.”
“Then why did you come?”
She turned in his direction as he entered her kitchen. He once more glanced around and again he scowled.
“What, Dev? You don’t like my kitchen? Is that it?”
He seemed to struggle within himself.
She slid her gaze around her kitchen wondering why he found fault with it. She loved her soapstone counters and creamy white French cabinets. The uppers all had glass insets. The curtains above the sink were green toile, with a sweet country scene on them.
It wasn’t a ridiculous space. So why was he scowling?
She drew another glass out, smaller this time. “I need more wine. Sure you don’t want some?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Terse and scowling. Devyn, why did you even come here? I don’t understand. You don’t like my slippers and you apparently hate my kitchen.”
She rounded the far end of the island and headed to the refrigerator. She drew the open bottle of wine out and filled her new glass. Full. She almost overflowed it.
