Page 9 of Taste of His Skin

It’s good to be the vamp leader. We have privacy without him saying a word.

Dipping his long, slender fingers into his back pocket, Aleks pulls out his wallet. He plucks out a twenty, showing it to me. “I can pay.”

“Oh my Luna,” I snap, part annoyed, part amused. “Put that away.”

He does. “You won’t read my fortune, Elizabeth?”

I should know better than to refuse Aleks anything. Even though he’s teasing, my wolf whines inside my chest, urging me to give him what he wants.

Ah, well. If it makes both him and my lovesick wolf happy…

I give the cards a cursory shuffle. This isn’t the first time I’ve read Aleks. He finds my affection for my tarot cards charming, and often asks me to tell him his fortune. He knows I’m full of shit, too; that doesn’t faze him. Sometimes, I think he just likes to listen to my voice.

In fact, the first time he ever brought me food—his homemade white borscht—we played questions for cards. I read him three cards in exchange for asking him three questions.

Remembering that fateful night, I say, “You know I will, but only if you’ll answer a question for me.”

“And you know that I’m an open book for you always, but if that’s what you want, then I agree.” Aleks quirks his lips into a sly grin, satisfied he got his way. “Just the one?”

That’s all I need. “Yes.”

His eyes are sparkling. Now that we’re completely alone—even passersby are giving the corner we’re on a wide berth—he’s in a much better mood than before. He pulled in his jealous nature, content in teasing me like usual.

Let’s see if that changes when we’re done with our little game.

I have a complete deck of seventy-eight tarot cards, but I usually only deal with the twenty-two that make up the Major Arcana when I’m fleecing tourists. They make a bigger impact, and are the ones most people familiar with Tarot know about.

I don’t bother pulling out the rest of the cards. Since I’m only reading Aleks because he asked—and because, twenty-two or seventy-eight, it won’t make any difference—I shuffle the deck one last time, then lay out three cards for him.

The Moon. The Lovers. Death.

Aleks chuckles. “Just making sure.”

Huffing out a breath, I pick the cards back up, place them at the top of my deck, then shove them in my back pocket. “It doesn’t make sense. Every freaking time, it’s the same.”

“Of course it does. It’s Fate,” he says, leaving it at that.

It’s not Fate. It’s a former lone wolf flipping cards at random, and there shouldn’t be any reason why The Moon, The Lovers, and Death are the only cards that seem to be in my deck every time I read Aleks.

It all started with that game of ours. I asked Aleks three questions—four, technically—and then laid a three-card spread for him. When I saw that it was The Moon, The Lovers, and Death, I turned the cards over again before he could see what they were. Since then, they appear every single freaking time.

And despite what meanings they have in Tarot, it’s undeniable how they sum up our relationship. The Moon. That’s me, and not only because that’s the nickname Aleks gave me. The Lovers. Also obvious. And Death. What is a vampire except death personified?

“You got your reading. It’s my turn.”

Aleks gestures for me to go ahead.

“Why didn’t you tell me that there was an assassination attempt on you last night? Or that it wasn’t even the first?”

For a second, I expect my vampire to tease and point out that I snuck in a second question.

He doesn’t.

The smile slides right off of his handsome face. His pale eyes flash, but they’re still green. “Who told you?”

I raise my eyebrows, but I don’t say anything.

I don’t have to.

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