Fangs

by Anna Katmore

“So, you think he’s just a curious but ordinary guy?”

  “At present, we should act on that assumption. Though I will check it out as soon as I can master my mind control. That will give us clarity, and I can wipe his memory if he knows too much. Anyway, wolves reek. If he really is one, he won’t be able to hide his smell from me.”

  Her shoulders relax even more, and a sigh pushes from her throat. “That’s a reassuring plan.” She nudges Saby behind his ear, and when he notices her, he climbs onto her lap. “When do you think you’ll be able to do that?”

  “Get into other people’s heads? Soon, I hope.” I give her a lopsided grin, confident to learn it fast after my success with the fire. “I want to go out after dark and find a nice donor before I start starving again.”

  “That would probably be a good idea.” Now that her mind is at peace about the werewolf, her eyes take on the familiar gleam of an explorer again. I missed it. “Do you feel strong enough for another practicing session?”

  “Abby…” I lean forward, grasping her hands, and beam at her. “I feel fantastic. You won’t believe what happened today.”

  The spark of my excitement jumps to her. “What?”

  “Okay, sit here and wait!” I climb from the bed and fetch a few candles from one of the drawers. There’s hardly a glow left in the fireplace, and the light in the room is minimal, so this is the perfect moment to demonstrate my new skills. Damn, I’m exhilarated, like a little boy before his first day of school.

  While I place the candles around the room, Abby lets Sabretooth play with the blue strands of her hair, dipping her head down low to him. He seems to like that and catches them with his tiny claws, lying on his back in her lap. At her sudden gasp, though, I look up and find two thin scratches across her cheek. Holding the last candle in my hand, I stand rigidly in the room, staring at the little drop of blood seeping from the wound.

  Shock lingers in her expression, and her heart drums a little louder in the silent room, though not from the cat attack, from my reaction. “Quentin…?” she croaks.

  Admittedly, it’s hard to say no when someone opens the buffet right in front of you, but on normal days, I have myself under control quite well. Last night was a totally different matter. “You’re lucky I’m still thriving on your blood, or that smell might have caused your downfall,” I tease her and wink.

  The relieved sigh that escapes her is funny.

  She brushes her fingers across the scratches and then wipes the blood onto her jeans. I grimace. God, what a waste. Now, she’s the one who smiles at my expression. “Go on, you wanted to show me something.”

  Right. When the last candle is placed on the mantel, I step into the middle of the room. “Ready?” She nods, and once again, I leer at the soft wounds on her left cheekbone. Boy, it would be nice to get another little sip of her cookie blood.

  “Quentin…? Go ahead,” she calls, laughing, and puts Saby away to sit up straight, waiting expectantly. “What is it you want to show me?”

  I swallow. Get a grip, man! All right. Pushing up the sleeves of my sweatshirt, I cast her a conspiratorial look. “After I came back from your house this morning, I learned how to command fire.”

  She claps her hands. Her eyebrows rise, and so does her voice. “Oh my God, is that true?”

  “Mm-hmm. Watch.” Concentrating on the five candles around the room, I order them to burn.

  Abby looks around like a squirrely little kitten. “Okay, I don’t see anything yet. Let me know when you start.”

  Ugh. I grunt. “Nothing happened yet.” I don’t know what I did wrong, but none of the candles light. I concentrate on the fireplace instead, shooting the burn command with a frown at the embers. Not a single ash-flake stirs. The candle on the mantel gives a swishy noise, and then the tiny spark that flickered there goes up in a thin column of smoke.

  “Wow! That was amazing! You made it fart! I’m so proud of you!” Abby squeals on the bed and claps her hands in sheer elation then points randomly at the candle on the nightstand. “Now try this one!”

  The sad thing is, she really means it. She thinks this is all I learned today, and to her, this seems like mighty progress.

  But it’s bullshit!

  Chapter 22

  Eek!

  Abigail

  I don’t know why Quentin makes such a grumpy face. The candle almost ignited, that’s pretty awesome! My heart beats so fast for him, I can barely sit still on the bed.

  “Come on, do this candle next,” I spur him on. “With a little more practice, you’ll surely get it to burn before the end of the day.”

  “You can stop the freak-out now. That wasn’t what I wanted to show you,” he growls, chin low like a sulking little boy, his arms crossed over his chest. “I almost made the fireplace downstairs explode with just a thought before you came.”

  “Oh...” Now that’s staggering news. It would certainly be much more impressive than the candle fart, although I really found that one extraordinary. I’m too inept to even play a simple card trick on people. Quentin performed pure magic with his mind. What’s there not to freak out about? “Well, maybe it’s just Sod’s law?” I offer with a sheepish grimace. “Pretend that I’m not here and try it again. I’ll keep still while you work.” With my finger on my lips, I give him a smiling promise.

  Oh, poor Quentin. He still grinds his molars, frustrated with the world. “I don’t think it’ll work if I simply pretend not to see you.” Then his eyes suddenly morph into a glare at me with a playful undertone. “In fact, you’re distracting me far too much.”

  Ugh. His tongue runs across his bottom lip as he prowls closer. Somehow, the look makes my voice squeaky. “Do you want me to leave so you can practice alone?”

  “No…” When he doesn’t stop at the end of the bed but places one knee onto the mattress and leans forward instead, I crawl backward out of reflex. He follows until I drop to my back, and then he kneels over me, hands braced on the sheets on either side of my head.

  Eyes wide-open, I shiver. “What are you doing?” I demand—or I would have if I had any breath left.

  The corner of his gorgeous lips kicks up into a smirk. “Getting that distraction out of the way.” Then he dips his head very low to mine. My heart runs amok in my chest. Goodness, is he going to bite me again? I swallow, but his fangs haven’t extended. Then what? A kiss? It wouldn’t be our first, but now is so much different than the day I tried to resurrect him on the road. We aren’t—heck, this comes so unexpectedly. I don’t even know what we are. Buddies? Dinosaur and sheep?

  The softness in Quentin’s gaze promises that whatever he’s going to do will be nice. My fingers start to shake a little, so I draw them inside the cuffs of my hoodie and press my hands to my chest. His breath feathers across my cheek. I squeeze my eyes shut. And, suddenly, it all feels…

  No, he doesn’t kiss me. Not on my mouth anyway. With a tender caress I didn’t foresee, he presses his parted lips to the claw marks on my cheekbone. I hold my breath. His lips are warm and soft. Very slowly, he runs them along the short wounds and drags the tip of his tongue from the beginning to the end, licking away the little drop of blood that has oozed out of the scratch. A gentle kiss finishes off his snack.

  When he inches away, I open my eyes and gape at him, staring into his deep blue irises. His face is so close, I can still feel his breath on my skin. For this short moment, time seems to freeze between us. And then, without warning, the room goes up in bright sparkles. The candles flicker with warm light, and the hearth downright bursts with a veritable bonfire. I gasp.

  Quentin’s eyes wander to the candle next to us on the nightstand and then back to me. Very slowly, his brows tilt up once, completing the secret, mischievous smile that barely moves his lips.

  I laugh—out of surprise, joy, and nervousness. What he just performed in this room was exquisite. But the aftermath of his mouth on my skin leaves me a little shaky. “You drank me half empty last night,” I play it off as a joke. “
Are you really so hungry again that you go for every single drop you can?”

  “No. But I sealed that wound.” Quentin winks at me and then pushes himself up from the bed.

  What? Stunned, I sit up and stroke my fingers over the spot where Sabretooth scratched me three minutes ago. “You serious?”

  Walking around the room and blowing out all the candles but the two on the nightstands, he nods. “Vampire spit. Better than any ointment you’ll get.”

  There’s a small, round mirror in a silver frame on the wall beside the mantel. Skeptically, I head over and look at myself in the pock-marked glass. Heck, it’s true, my cheekbone is absolutely flawless again. “Awesome...” The word whizzes out of me in deep fascination. Then another thought strikes me almost immediately. “Quentin?” I turn to find him playing with Saby on the bed. “Could you come over here for a second?”

  “What’s wrong?” He frowns, crossing to me. “Did I mess up your face?”

  Curious, I turn back to the mirror. “No, I just want to check something.” Another vampire legend. “Can you actually see your reflection?”

  “Myth busted,” he says as his face appears over my left shoulder. Then he grins like a loon, exposing his extended fangs next to my throat.

  I burst out laughing and shove him away from me. “Sometimes you’re impossible!”

  He smirks, fangs back to hiding. “And, other times, I’m super cute.”

  “Pathetic,” I tease him. “All comatose and starving.”

  “Right.” He lowers back to the edge of the bed and sends me a wicked look. “If I’d known this was the way to your carotid, I’d have played on your heartstrings from the beginning.”

  Sticking my tongue out at him, I drag the polar bear skin from across the room to in front of the mantelpiece and then sit down cross-legged. With the fire behind me, this is the coziest place in the cold castle.

  “So, what do we do now? You seem in top form today—thanks to me.” I grin. “Want to practice a little mind control next?”

  As if this offer comes as a total surprise to him, he lifts his eyebrows. “You still want to help me shape up?”

  Does his insecurity have anything to do with what happened last night? Because he bit me? Well, it wasn’t like he lost control there. I did offer myself of my own free will. So, I simply shrug. “Yep. We’ll turn you into a first-class vampire in no time.” And then such things as last night won’t have to happen again, so it’s a win-win.

  “Okaaay…” He clears his throat and then comes down to the polar bear skin. Sitting stiff and upright on his haunches, he stares me in the eye meaningfully. “I’ll try to connect with your mind now and give you some instructions. Ready?”

  I nod, feeling a little queasy, but I trust him.

  A long moment passes where he either tries to walk the labyrinth into my head, or he just thinks of some stupid command he can give me for a test run. “Get up and blow out the candles,” he finally says, his voice matching the strictness in his eyes.

  I just shake my head at that.

  His face scrunches up, and he scratches his head. “Okay. I order you to get up and blow out the candles.”

  Giving him a compassionate look, I shake my head again. “Sorry, I just don’t feel the urge to do that right now.”

  “Damn.”

  His obvious frustration raises my pity. “Maybe you need to touch me to connect with me?”

  Quentin considers. “Worth a try.” When he holds out his hands, I place mine in them and, while he takes his time to concentrate again, I take a moment to explore the feeling of his gentle touch. His fingers are comfortably warm and the perfect size to envelope my much smaller ones. We fit surprisingly well.

  “Abigail Potts,” he begins in that stern voice again, drawing my attention back to his face. “I want you to—”

  POP.

  Quentin is gone.

  What the hell?

  Shell-shocked, I stare at his jeans and t-shirt lying on the floor in front of me, holding my breath, my arms still frozen in midair. Then panic mows me down. “Quentin?” I screech and dig into his clothes. “Where are you?!”

  My fingers nudge something—it moves. I grip the shirt and pull it away. The next instant, a little black thing flaps. Shit, it’s a bat! How could Quentin turn— “Eek!” Hysterically, I flail about, ducking my head as I feel the hideous creature swooshing past my ear. “Get out of my hair!”

  Mutating into a shrieking ninja, I jerk to my feet. Gah! This is so disgusting! Spasms jolt my body. My next lash hits the bat square in the face and catapults it across the room. The black ball crashes into the wall and pops back into Quentin. He drops to the stone floor. Naked!

  Freezing, I swallow hard. Quentin rolls to his back and groans. He props himself up, sitting against the wall, but his eyes are glassy when they half open. “Fuck,” he rasps, rubbing his forehead.

  My hands shake from shock as I reach out, pointing at him, and then I press them over my mouth.

  He breathes heavily, looking exhausted as if he ran a marathon. Flown.

  His eyes narrow at me. “What?”

  I’m utterly immobile, my voice is a squeak. “You’re naked.”

  His lashes shroud his eyes. “And you’re staring.”

  Yeah. Right. I shouldn’t.

  But, man, he’s got a fine—

  “Abby…” he moans. “You make me feel uncomfortable.”

  —body. “Uh, sorry.” Embarrassment finally kicks in. I clap my palms over my eyes and spin around. It feels like coals burn holes into my cheeks.

  With another groan, he apparently hoists himself back to standing. I move a little forward to the window when his bare feet slap on the stone floor behind me, his steps moving closer. When the sound of jeans being pulled up drifts to me, I lower my hands and dare a tiny peek over my shoulder. He’s already buttoning up, so I turn around and enjoy the view of his chiseled chest until his dark band t-shirt covers that, too.

  Quentin recovered quickly. It must be in his vampire blood. But it’s good to see I didn’t do any permanent damage to his pretty face.

  When he’s done dressing, I plant my hands on my hips and nail him with a reproachful scowl. “What in God’s name was that? Couldn’t you warn me before snapping into a creepy little bloodsucker?”

  Quentin rakes a bashful hand through his hair. “I didn’t know I could even do that. I mean, I know there are shifters among the vampires, but that’s not really the rule.”

  “Can’t your Uncle Dracula turn into a bat?”

  “Nope. He changes into a dragon.”

  “Aah…dragon,” I drawl, my mouth round like an O.

  “Yeah, but my aunt doesn’t let him do that anymore after he swept her crystal figurines off the shelf with his tail.” Quentin lowers to the bearskin and sends me a sheepish look as he ties his shoelaces. “Come sit down again?”

  I draw closer and slowly sink to my knees opposite him. “Do you think it will happen again?”

  “The bat?” He shrugs. “If so, you know how to change me back.” Then he grimaces. “But give me a minute to try it myself before you smack me against the wall.”

  I can’t stop myself from grinning because, seriously, it’s just all too weird. I feel as if someone tipped an entire magic box over me, and now I’m living in a fairy tale. Well, a vampire fairy tale. A really creepy one. Maybe a horror story? Ugh.

  “Ready?” Quentin drags me out of my thoughts with his head tilted and eyebrows provocatively arched.

  “Sorry. Yes.” I sit straighter. “Let’s begin.”

  He purses his lips. “All right.” His eyes capture mine, and then the corners of his lips twitch in a sinister way. “Strip.”

  My chin drops. He cannot be serious! Rigid, I sit and stare at his face.

  Quentin bites back a laugh as he reaches out and closes my mouth with one finger under my chin. “Relax. That was a joke. I wasn’t even trying.”

  Clenching my teeth, I fold my arms over m
y chest and growl, “Not funny.”

  “Your face was.” He winks at me.

  “If you want me to keep playing guinea pig, you better not make me do anything stupid, vampire boy.”

  “Ouch.” He pouts in an extremely sweet way, clutching his chest with both hands. It makes me smile.

  “All right, now get your crap together and give it another try. Just find a serious command. If you say ‘strip’ again, I’ll come with a sharpie the next time you sleep and turn you into a panda instead of a bat.”

  Quentin laughs at that but lifts his hands in surrender. “I’ll play nice, promise. Anyway, I don’t think I should actually tell you what to do. My aunt and uncle always do it with just their minds, no words.”

  “Okay, then do whatever you must.” Sticking out my tongue, I lean back and brace myself on my hands, swinging my hair over my shoulder. “I’ll just relax here for a bit, lean back, and get my mind all cozy and open for you.”

  He shakes his head with a tight-lipped grin, but soon, his features become earnest again and his look a little sharper. He chews on his bottom lip. Damn, I can’t resist teasing him, “You think looking cute will get you into my mind?”

  Quentin’s features soften into a small smile that’s gone in a moment. Oh, it’s fun to distract him and, frankly, a lot safer than having him snap into a bat again. “Be careful not to combust when you push yourself too much. Would be a shame if you turned into vampire chips.”

  He chuckles. “Could you please be quiet for a minute?”

  “I think I could. Only, I’m not sure I want to.”

  Now he leans his head back and laughs, dragging his hands down his face in frustration. “Shut up, Abby!”

  “What do I get for it?”

  “I’m not going to eat you.”

  “Ah…good point.”

  He crosses his legs, props his elbows on his knees, and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. He looks all professor-like.

  Grinning, I get up and crawl over to him. “But it might not be enough to buy my silence.”