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When Jade texted me minutes after sundown, demanding I meet her in Salem, I quickly dressed in my usual dark trousers and a soft, emerald-green sweater, the same as her eyes, before leaving Henry’s cabin on foot.
Curiosity filled me when I wondered how Jade would react to our kiss in the alley. Admittedly, it hadn’t been my finest moment. The witches’ ritual had unexpectedly unnerved me. Combined with Jade’s chilly indifference, I became undone. But then, even more unanticipated than my visceral response to the Coven's magick was her fiery response to my kiss.
I feared I may never recover knowing how she felt in my arms. Tasted on my tongue. It was heaven and hell. A reminder of just how far I would descend into madness to possess her as my own.
As I approached the winter market, lit up and sparkling with mirth and holiday cheer, I spotted Jade. She stood alone, away from the crowds who strolled through the street. For a moment, I stared transfixed at her lovely body outlined in a deep burgundy dress and the boots that had invaded my darkest fantasies. I hadn’t been lying to her when I said I wanted to worship her, preferably with the sharp heels of her leather boots digging into my back once more.
Her sparkling eyes suddenly lifted from her phone, and a myriad of emotions glimmered across her face before she settled on her usual scowl. “Took you long enough,” she huffed, turning to enter the market without waiting for me to follow.
I easily caught up to her, winding my arm through hers to keep her from running off once more. Before she could argue, I pulled a single lily from my jacket pocket and pressed it into her hand.
“Charming, vamp.” She lifted the petals to her nose, looking secretly pleased before the expression fell. “Before I get distracted, let’s discuss Trystan. What have you discovered about the staff?”
I ignored her question and instead focused on the overstuffed crowds filling the emptied streets. Spiced wines, sizzling meat skewered on sticks, and fried sugary dough fragranced the air while music played boisterously from humans with reddened cheeks and wide smiles.
Clearing my throat, I murmured into her ear, “We really shouldn’t speak on this out in the open. You could have come to Henry’s cabin. It’s private and we wouldn’t have to moderate the discussion to factor in the mortals.”
She rolled her eyes. “Like I’m going to your friend’s creepy vampire cabin in the middle of the woods. I may have lost my mind a bit this year when I quit working with Grandmother to work with you, but I’m not suicidal.”
“As if an isolated location would matter if I truly wanted to drink you.” I smirked devilishly.
Jade glared, wrapping her arms around her body. The sharp Atlantic breeze carried her scent towards me, and my throat burned with thirst. The nectar pulsing just under her luminous skin enchanted me so thoroughly that I didn’t notice her pulling me to a stop.
“I’m getting some of that cake,” she informed me.
The Danish-style cake, layered with almond marzipan, berries, and cream, reminded me of kremšnita, a Slovenian dessert I remembered from boyhood. When she attempted to pay, I knocked her hand out of the way and gave the human my card.
I smirked down at Jade. “My treat.”
She grasped the container with a polite smile that didn’t hide her irritation with me before she stalked towards an opening in the crowd. “Come on. Let’s find somewhere to sit and talk.”
We stopped at a small bench along the ocean wall, underneath a flickering light pole adorned with a red velvet bow. From our perch on the metal bench, the winter market sat like a beacon of life, while Jade and I lingered in the darkness.
She lifted the dessert to her lips, delight filling her as she licked at the filling and moaned. “Oh Goddess, it’s so good.”
I watched her hungrily, devouring every sound and flash of pleasure in her face.
As she ate, she gestured for me to continue with our conversation, though I would have much rather spoken on our kiss. Or continued watching her consume the cake as if it were a lover.
With a sigh, I settled deeper in my seat. “Henry and I learned Trystan has been naughtier than we expected. After our…interlude… last night, we traveled to a vampire haunt in Boston. It appears there has been more than a few encounters between his Court and creatures, including the Salem Coven, increasing in violence during each new spat.”
“That’s the feeling I got from the witches yesterday.” She pressed a napkin to her sugary lips. “Most of the younger witches and warlocks seem tolerant, but with the older crowds, there was an underlying distrust they couldn’t hide.”
My eyes darkened as I remembered the whispered argument Henry and I easily overheard in the cemetery. To distract myself from my rising disquiet, I captured Jade’s dessert and took a lick of a cream before she could knock my hand away.
“Henry has lived in Salem since before the Coven,” I told her, thinking back on my friend’s tumultuous relationship with Coven over the years. “He settled here with his mate after centuries of fighting under my father’s banners in Europe. Now, he acts like a gatekeeper, ensuring the continued peace between different factions of creatures. That doesn’t mean the worst of us haven’t slipped through.”
“Why didn’t your father make Henry the head of the Boston Court, then?” Jade asked.
I shrugged, crossing my ankles in front of me. “Probably because my father knew Henry would turn him down. His mate died because of a battle my father ordered him to wage against a pack of shifters that once resided in the Appalachian Mountains. Their relationship never truly recovered.”
Jade grew pale, twittering her fingers into the edges of her dress. “I can’t say I blame him. Poor Henry.”
For a moment, I imagined myself in my friend’s shoes, forced to watch the person I loved slaughtered for a cause I didn’t believe in beyond my duty. My fangs dug into my lips as a tumult of incendiary wrath filled me at the thought of Jade coming to harm. Let alone because of my father. I woulddiebefore I allowed that to happen.
Jade glanced up at the sudden stiffness in my body, and I forced myself to relax.
“Anyway,” I said with false levity, trying to shift the tone of our conversation back to safer territory. “It became abundantly clear that Trystan cares not for morality or ethics. Him and his band of miscreants will kill and disrupt the lives of any he desires, damn the consequences. It’s only his wealth and prestige in the royal line that keeps him safe from mortal detection or punishment.”
