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Is Kov short for something or is that his entire name? Where is he from? But those questions don’t seem as important as finding out about magic and vampires. “Why did he call you a trow?”
“Because I am.” He indicates to his outfit as though that explains everything.
Right.But I know there is more to it than body paint and leather. “What is a trow?”
“Me. I am. What is a witch?” There’s a glint in his blue eyes, and I’m not sure if he is teasing or being honest.
I have been here with Hannah a couple of times, so even though furniture has been moved, I remember the layout. I lead Kov to the bathroom, push open the door and flick on the light. It’s bright and harsh after being in the dark with only the party lights and candles. I squint and blink until my vision adapts.
Kov shuts the door behind him and flicks the privacy lock. The bathroom shrinks around us as I stare up at him. There’s blood on the tip of one of his horns. He looks wild and sexy and everything that I don’t want because he’s dangerous. My body didn’t get the memo, though, because I do want him.
My mouth dries and I don’t know what to say or do next. I want to run my fingers over his horns and touch his lips. Learn the shape of his mouth with mine as I pull his costume off. I want to see his skin without the makeup and find out if the rest of him is as thick and hard. I thought I’d experienced lust before, but it has never been like this. My insides want to get to know him. My panties are damp and I…I need him in a way that is tying me up in knots.
He is exactly the right man to break my dry spell because he is the wrong man. The kind of man I would never choose to be with. He’s too big, too male, too quick to headbutt and save my ass.
Too sure that magic exists.
Kov lifts my bleeding hand. “Let’s get that clean.”
The cut on my hand throbs, reminding me why I’m here with Kov, and it’s not to get naked. I’m disappointed that he is actually going to clean the wound and that it wasn’t an excuse to get me alone.
He pulls me toward the sink and turns on the tap. Next to the sink is a bowl of condoms and a bowl of mints. Several small soaps litter the vanity. Given how tidy it is in here, it’s too early for people to have really gotten started.
I’m the one making a mess. My blood drips onto the white vanity.
I stand next to Kov and watch in the mirror as he takes my hand and soaps and scrubs the cut, like there might really be vampire venom in there.
What if vampires are real and I have really been bitten? “Will I turn into a vampire now?”
“No. That’s not how it works.”
“Uh-huh. How does it work, then?”
How far will he take this conversation where I pretend that I’m a witch, and he’s a trow, and that vampires are real? But if magic and curses are real, why can’t all of that be real?
“Vampires are fairies that stay in the human world for too long. They need blood to survive. Witch blood is the best.”
Witch blood. My blood. The vampire wanted me, but not because he liked me and wanted to get to know me. “Is that because witches have magic?”
“Witches are half-fairy, so of course they have magic.”
“And magic is real?” My face in the mirror is a bit too hopeful, like I want him to have all the answers.
Does magic explain what has been happening to me? How am I suddenly magical? I don’t want to be magical. I don’t want birds dying, or mirrors cracking and candles flaring, or anything else—including vampires hunting me.
He lifts his gaze from my hand to meet mine in the mirror. “Magic is real. The first sign that you have it are unnatural occurrences.”
“Like?” My gaze dances over the surface of the mirror, hoping it won’t crack. I don’t want to be the weird girl in front of him, even though we are talking about magic. Seeing it is different from discussing it in a theoretical way.
“You tell me.” He runs his thumb over the cut. It stings and tingles, but I don’t pull away.
“I don’t know…” I bite my lip. My mouth is overly red in the bright light. I want to wipe the lipstick away. This isn’t me. I don’t get around in tiny skirts and high boots, and I don’t wear red lipstick. But I don’t know who I am anymore. “Do birds flying into my window and dying count?”
“That depends. Was it only one bird, randomly?”
“Every day for the last three weeks.” Now I’m hoping that it is magic, a hex put on me. “That’s not all. Candles flare around me.” Though maybe that wasn’t me, as it only happened tonight. But then I haven’t been around candles since my birthday.
“I noticed.” He’s still holding my hand and looking at me in the mirror.
