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Unpleasant. Distasteful. And vexing.
Very vexing.
Though admittedly, Blaire smells better than cat urine.
As I lift her, kicking and struggling, into the air by her throat, her fresh-baked-cinnamon bread smell wafts around me, and my stomach growls. I haven’t had cinnamon bread in over two-hundred years or had a craving for anything but blood in nearly as long, but this witch…does things to me.
Bad things.
I can’t stand this woman, which makes the urge to lick her every time her mouth-watering scent hits my nose even more irritating.
So, I let her dangle from my arm, spitting and cussing, for a few more moments before I press her up against the heavy plaster wall on the other side of the kitchen and let go, enjoying her “oof” of surprise as her boots reconnect with the floor.
But she isn’t surprised for long. She recovers quickly, attempting to dive under my arm and bolt for the door, but I grip her shoulders and hold her fast.
“Let me go,” she snaps, her face red with fury as she glares up at me, cursing like a sailor.
Ugh. She’s so…objectionable.
And nothing like her twin sister.
Annie is a tall, elegant, well-read woman with flawless skin and a soft-spoken manner that reminds me of my own wife, the one I was forced to abandon, along with our two young children, when I was turned. In another age, Annie would have fit perfectly into high society, whereas this little goblin…
With her explosion of freckles over every visible inch of skin, muscled arms, and skin that flushes a mottled red whenever she’s angry—which, as far as I can tell, is most of the time—she’s just…impossible. The very worst. Even if her arrival in town hadn’t set a string of highly undesirable events in motion, I would want to toss her off the nearest cliff.
But I won’t.
Contrary to what Blaire clearly believes, the Blackmore clan has a strict honor code. We don’t kill for food or entertainment.
“Quiet,” I mutter, my lip curling as she continues to unleash a string of profanity so salty even the pirates I knew as a younger man would be impressed. “You’re embarrassing yourself. What a mouth.”
“I’ll show you a mouth,” she spits back, “vampires aren’t the only ones who can bite, you know.” She aims her blunt little teeth at my arm; I trap her jaw with my hand once more, squeezing tight enough to assure her I mean business.
“Get control of yourself,” I insist. “We don’t have much time. If we want to stop this wedding, we have to be smart about it. And lemon juice isn’t smart. Or effective. We have antidotes to citrus poisoning, which you’d know if you bothered to read the rest of the book you stole from the library.”
She stills, her brown eyes going wide. “How did you know about that?”
“I know everything that goes on in this town,” I say, leaving out the fact that I’ve been spying on her in my bat form ever since she and her sister rolled into town to claim their inheritance. “And I know you’re just as displeased about this union as I am.”
She blinks, but her gaze almost immediately grows suspicious. “Right. That’s why you fawn all over Annie every time we run into you and your brother in town.”
“I don’t fawn. I’m polite. You should try it sometime, Goblin. Didn’t your mother teach you that you win more flies with honey than vinegar?”
“I don’t want to catch flies, and I don’t waste my time or energy with assholes. You, my friend, are an asshole. And if you strangle me to death, I assure you I will be coming back to haunt you. And I intend to be one mean ass, door-slamming, sleep-ruining, all around awful ghost.”
“Shocking,” I say dryly, “considering you’re so delightful in your living form.”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “The feeling’s mutual, bucko. So let me go.”
“I’d love to, but unfortunately I think we’re the only two people who realize what a disaster this union will be if it’s allowed to proceed.”
She snorts. “I don’t believe you. You need this marriage to protect the town.”
“We need a marriage to protect the town,” I correct. “In order to renew the spell, every hundred years the oldest Wonderfully sister must marry one of the town elders. Colin is one of the possible choices but far from the only one. I don’t know why he was in such a hurry to set his head on the chopping block, but as his brother, it’s my job to help protect him from his own noble intentions.”
“He’s not really your brother,” Blaire grumbles, her throat working as she fights to swallow past the pressure of my fingers.
“We were made on the same night,” I say. “And we share a sire. That’s a closer bond than an ignorant creature like you will ever understand, but I assure you I love him with all my heart.”
