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I didn’t personally know Arick well.
What I did know, though, was that his mansion was always a place of nearly round-the-clock partying.
The place looked damn near abandoned now.
His home was a two-story metal and glass building with mirrored windows, so you couldn’t see inside during the day.
“This is where a warlock lives?” Charlotte asked from the passenger seat of her car that we’d taken since I didn’t exactly trust her to hold on right on the back of my bike.
The woman was what the humans called a lightweight. The liquor had gone straight to her head. She was giggly and talkative, letting all her random thoughts spill out on the drive to Arick’s place.
I never thought I’d think this about a human—or anything for that matter—but it was cute as fuck.
“What were you expecting?”
“A castle,” she admitted, immediately giggling at herself. “It’s just very cold, isn’t it?”
“I hear the inside is very different,” I said, climbing out, then going around to open her door. “What are you doing?” I asked as I looked in to find her looking at her reflection in the visor mirror.
“Just fixing my face,” she said.
“Your face is perfect. And Arick doesn’t need to be noticing anyway,” I added, reaching in for her arm, and pulling her out of the car, almost overwhelmed by the urge to keep her away from the prying eyes of the known manwhore warlock.
“Maybe he’s not home,” Charlotte suggested after I rang the bell for the second time.
“He’s here,” I said, reaching for the door handle, feeling it shock the shit out of me.
“Maybe it’s a spell?” Charlotte suggested. “To keep demons out,” she clarified. “Let me try,” she said, reaching toward it.
“Absolutely fucking not,” I said, grabbing her wrist just in time.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m immortal. He can hurt me. You’re not. He could kill you.”
“I’m not in the killing business,” a disembodied voice called before the door suddenly slid open.
“Okay. That was kind of neat,” Charlotte said, shooting me a smirk as we moved inside.
The inside of Arick’s house was in stark contrast to the cool, minimalist style of the outside.
Artwork lined the walls, the canvases stacked several thick along some walls.
Greenery was wedged in every corner and hanging in front of all the windows, giving the area a bit of a jungle feel.
“I get the feeling he is very eccentric.”
“That is the word. But this is not normal,” I said, leading her deeper into the house.
“Times are not normal,” Arick’s deep, smooth voice called.
“Whoa,” Charlotte said as a shiver coursed through her.
“Yeah. His voice can do that to women,” I told her, trying not to be jealous of that particular skill. Drex once said that he was making a woman orgasm by reading her a menu.
Moving through, we found him at the back of his house, standing in his kitchen, his posture bent forward, making him seem no less giant than usual.
He had long black hair, a chiseled jaw, almost unsettling, supernaturally grass-green eyes, and a body full of tattoos that moved in different ways depending on his mood.
