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Gulping in fresh air, I say, “Pixies. They bite.”
Looking as dazed as I feel, she mumbles, “So do vampires.”
“No, I mean…” I motion over my shoulder toward the pixie lights swirling above the unlit fire. “They’re like insects. All instinct, no reason. They smell something they like and swarm in to feed. They don’t usually kill their prey, but a pixie attack isn’t something to be taken lightly.” I glance at her throat, swallowing hard and forcing my gaze back to her eyes before I add, “But they know better than to attack a human who’s been marked by a larger predator. My scent should keep them away from you for the rest of the night.”
She nods loosely. “Oh. Okay.” She frowns and shakes her head with a tight laugh. “I really need a crash course in everything Nightfall. You guys should have an orientation program in place or something.”
“Perhaps. But to be fair, most people don’t come here ignorant of who or what they are,” I remind her, “or of the supernatural world. Your mother was an outlier, choosing to keep her offspring so completely in the dark.”
Blaire’s forehead furrows. “I know. And I understand my mother as well as just about anyone, but I still can’t figure out why she did what she did. Why she would leave a place where she had support and a big house with plenty of room, to raise us alone in a tiny cabin in the woods. Was she trying to protect us? Herself?” Her eyes lock tighter on mine as she adds, “Or was it something else that made her leave Nightfall?”
I motion toward the edge of the woods. “I’m not sure. I didn’t know your mother well, but Paul might have some insight to offer. His father was close with your mother when they were young.”
We start walking again just as a breeze gusts across the lawn, granting me a brief respite from Blaire’s scent. By the time we reach the circle of stumps where the two shifters are waiting for us a few hundred feet up the trail, I’ve managed to get both my fangs and my cock under control.
But Trevor still shoots me a strange look as I make the introductions, seeming to sense that something isn’t quite right.
You have no idea, friend, I think to myself as I force a smile.
My ever-growing attraction to this completely inappropriate and not-remotely-my-type woman is not only unprecedented, but dangerous. It will be a hell of a lot harder to convince my brother marrying a half-breed witch is a bad idea if he knows I’ve been balls deep in her sister.
But fuck…
I desperately want to be balls deep in this woman, want it so bad a soft, but fiercely territorial, voice in my head growls as Paul pulls her in for a warm, friendly hug, saying, “Wow, you look just like your mom. She used to babysit me when I was a tiny kid. She was my favorite. Always made caramel corn and let me eat as much as I wanted. And she played the best records.”
Blaire pulls back with a laugh, her cheeks flushed in a way that makes me want to strangle Paul even more. “Yeah, Mom was the best about things like that. She let us pig out on Halloween candy every year. We’d stay up until midnight binging on chocolate and tossing the wrappers into the fire and making wishes. She said candy wishes were guaranteed to come true.”
Paul’s expression softens. “I’m so sorry she’s still missing. Hopefully she’s out there somewhere. With Willow…” He smiles. “Well, I wouldn’t put it past her to pop back up when you least expect it with one hell of a story to tell.”
Blaire nods. “Totally. That’s Mom.” She lets out a breath and extends a hand to Trevor. “Nice to meet you, too, Trevor. I’ve heard great things.”
Has she? I suddenly wonder. From where?
I’ve been spying on her for weeks, but I can’t be everywhere all of the time and the daylight hours are obviously off-limits.
Promising the jealous voice in my head that I’ll figure out what she’s heard about the two pack leaders in town later, I say, “Trevor’s great uncle was married to a Wonderfully sister. I haven’t traced the genealogy, but you two likely have a few relatives in common.”
“But if we’re cousins, we’re definitely the kissing kind,” Trevor says, making me want to punch the tiger shifter in the face and toss him onto the bonfire for daring to flirt with the wrong sister.
When Blaire giggles at his cheeky wink and too-long handshake, I want to tell the other men to fuck right off and that I’ll deal with the logs on my own. But two minutes is hardly enough time for Blaire to judge whether one of the pack leaders is a good fit for her sister.
I’ve resigned myself to a half hour spent watching the three of them test the flirtation waters, when Blaire suddenly turns back to me and says, “Well, I’ll let you three get to the log toting. I should run back and catch Annie before she gets to the barn, warn her that Colin should rub his spit on her neck or whatever.” She glances back toward Paul and Trevor, explaining, “To keep the pixies away. That’s a real thing, right? And not just Darcy’s idea of a fun prank to play on the newbie in town?”
Paul laughs. “No, it’s a real thing. And you should definitely warn your sister. The pixies don’t usually come to town gatherings, so Colin might not realize she needs protection.”
“And Darcy isn’t much of a prankster,” Trevor says, his golden eyes glittering, “I’ll never forget the solstice your kids thought it would be fun to toss rotten pumpkins at all the houses with their porch lights off. I thought your head was literally going to explode.”
“Your kids?” Blaire asks, her eyes going wide.
I wave her off and shoot a hard look Trevor’s way. “Not mine. They’re wards of our clan I work with occasionally. And no, I’m not a prankster. I lost my patience for juvenile humor around my sixth decade.” I step closer to Blaire, resting a hand on her back. “I’ll escort Blaire to find her sister and return in a moment.”
“You don’t have to, mate,” Paul says, nodding toward the large pile of logs to his left. “We can take care of it. You just need that pile brought down to the bonfire, right?”
I assure him that, yes, that’s all, thank him and Trevor for their help, and bite my tongue until Blaire and I are far enough down the path to be out of earshot.
When we’re on our way back across the lawn, I mutter with thinly concealed irritation, “Does your sister have an issue with shifters you neglected to mention this morning?”
“No, but neither of them is a good fit for Annie,” she says, with such confidence my fangs start to feel stabbier for reasons aside from lust.
