“Hey, I’m sorry.” Fletcher stood at the edge of the couch, staring down at me.
I told myself not to look at him, but his voice pulled on that string inside me, and I couldn’t help but look at him and his soft brown eyes that still held the spark of life. His lips twitched, pulling one corner into a half smile, and I felt my own lips moving to mirror his. Damn him.
“It’s okay,” I said with a wave.
Fletcher smiled fully then. He pulled off his coat and draped it over a chair before sitting on the opposite end of the couch as me. We looked everywhere except at each other. I felt fifteen years old again, worried my mom would walk in at any moment. I pursed my lips, fighting the smile that thought brought. Fletcher shifted in his seat and picked at a piece of lint on his knee. I saw all that through a not-so-subtle sideways glance, and I didn’t manage to look away before he caught me staring.
“This feels… awkward. And I don’t know why,” he said.
I nodded. I knew why I felt awkward—that invisible thread was winding tighter and tighter inside me, urging me to cross the cushioned distance between us and unbuckle that stupid collar and run my fingers through his hair. But every time those thoughts sprang into my mind, an image of Owen’s face would rear up, and guilt would slam into me.
I tried to remind myself that I had thrown Owen out of my apartment and told him I was done breaking my heart for him every damn day. I tried to remind myself that he was bedding down, every damn day, with Theo while I slept alone. Well, unless you counted Artie, and in affairs of the heart, he didn’t really count. Kinda. Not really.
I screamed at the mental image of Owen to just go away, but the only thing that really worked was looking at Fletcher. And he was looking right back at me. No more vampires.
“I wanted to apologize for something,” he said, catching me off guard.
Once again I realized I was leaning toward him. I froze in place.
“When I realized Tollis had you and I came in, I wasn’t trying to imply that you couldn’t, you know…” he said.
“Oh!” I shook my head and held up a hand, falling back into the cushions again. “Please don’t. I mean, that’s not something you need to apologize for. I don’t know why I got so twisted about that. I mean, you’re my friend and you thought I was in danger. I mean, I was in danger, but what were you supposed to do? Just stand outside and wait and see if I won against a werewolf?”
“Well, yeah, I mean, that’s what I thought, but you were so…”
“Bitchy about it?” I offered, making him laugh.
“That’s your word, but since I can’t seem to think of a better one…” Fletcher shrugged.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, tossing one of the small decorative pillows at him. “Shut up. I’m sorry I screamed at you like that, and well, you know, thanks for saving me or whatever.”
“I might not have saved you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You might’ve done fine without my intervention. You were distracting Tollis and I got the element of surprise, so who knows? Maybe you didn’t need my help.”
“Dude, shut up.” Without another pillow to throw at him, I tried to kick him in the thigh. But before I could make contact, Fletcher’s hand shot out and caught my ankle. He tugged my leg, pulling me across the couch until I was next to him and my legs were draped over his lap. I was still clutching grandmother’s afghan like some sort of shield.
“I am happy that you’re okay,” he said, his voice low and soft. His hands were on my thighs, his fingers curved with the line of my legs.
I was very aware of how close his hands were to my hips. I looked into his eyes as he leaned close to my face. His breath was warm and sweet, no hint of iron to be found. My eyes drifted to his mouth, his lips moist and slightly parted, and not for the first time, I wondered if they were as soft as they looked. I pushed away all thoughts of Owen, refusing to let his memory intrude on this moment. All hell had broken out at the festival, a festival Owen knew I would be attending, and he hadn’t come to check on me. I had been on the news, shown being interrogated by police, but Owen wasn’t here. Fletcher was here; Fletcher cared about me and knew how to show it. Fletcher gave me space and time when I needed it, and companionship when I wanted it.
“Fletcher,” I whispered, wanting him to know he was the one I was thinking about. I wanted him to know that my scent didn’t turn sour when he filled my thoughts.
He smiled and closed the distance between us. My fingers were in his hair. It was soft and silky and slipped through my fingers, making me grip to hold on. His lips covered mine, and they were as soft and warm as I had hoped they would be. His chest pressed into mine, pushing me into the couch as his hands slid up my thighs, over my hips, and around my waist. We fell back onto the couch like a couple of teenagers, but he didn’t paw at me or try to rip off my clothes. Instead he kissed me, deep and slow, until my face was flushed with heat and my hips were moving against him.
I felt his fingers on my neck before his hand slid into my hair and cradled the back of my head. His fangs slid out, nicking my tongue and flavoring our kiss with my blood. A flood of sense memories rushed through me, and a tiny voice screamed in my head, No more vampires, Mattie! No. More. Vampires!
Fletcher slowed, and I felt him pulling away from me. I hooked my leg around his hip and pulled him against me, crushing my mouth to his. He chuckled and nipped my bottom lip before slowly breaking our kiss, pressing his forehead against mine. His eyes were closed, but I couldn’t look away from his face and his smile.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” he whispered.
The thread inside me thrummed in time to some happy tune I didn’t know the words to. “What took you so long?” I whispered back. When your face is less than an inch away from someone else’s face, you only speak in whispers.
“Mattie…” Fletcher’s voice was like velvet against my skin, but I could feel him shutting down.
Clearly I’d asked the wrong thing. Go me: Moment Ruiner. I sighed, letting my leg fall and pulling my hands out of his perfect hair.
When we were untangled and sitting up, he took my hand in both of his. They weren’t as warm as they had been just moments earlier. “I’m totally down to see where this can go, but I can’t do it if I’m competing against someone else, and I definitely can’t do it if I’m competing against the memory of someone else.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” he pressed.
I nodded, curling my hand around his.
“Is it something you want too? I like you, Mattie, I really do. But I’m not going to put myself out there if I’m the only one taking the jump, you know?”
I nodded again and turned his words over in my head as I took the time to think about my answer. Fletcher didn’t deserve anything less.
“I can feel it in you,” he said, dropping his eyes to our hands. “And I’m happy, but right now, I’m going to go.” I whipped my head up, opening my mouth to say something to stop him, but he pressed his fingertips to my mouth, almost too light for me to feel, and said, “I’m just going to give you a little space to think. I will come back, I promise.”
I closed my mouth and nodded yet again. Fletcher leaned close and pressed a feather-light kiss to my cheek. I closed my eyes and turned my head slightly into the kiss, trying to memorize the shape of his lips on my skin. When he pulled away, I didn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t watch him walk out of my apartment. That tiny voice in my head was telling me he was going to break my heart like Owen did.
I felt his fingers in my hair, tucking one side behind my ear. The couch shifted as his weight left the cushions. I didn’t hear the door—he wouldn’t have been able to break my freezing spell anyway—but I knew he was gone just the same.
Artie was sitting at my feet when I opened my eyes. I scooped him up, cradling him to my chest. “What do you think? Am I stupid for wanting another vampire in my life?”
“Prow,” he r
eplied, gently butting his head against my jaw.
“Yeah, I know I already know the answer.” I sighed. “Doesn’t mean I couldn’t use another opinion. He seems nice though, right?”
“Mmmrrow.”
“Right, Owen was nice in the beginning too. I know.”
“Mrrow.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Either I jump in with two feet, or I let him go. Not nice to string him along. I did rescind Owen’s invitation though, so I mean, I am serious about letting him go. And let’s face it, Owen was the last guy I’ve dated, and that was two years ago. Wow, that’s kinda embarrassing.”
“Prrow.”
“Shut up.” Cradling my smush-faced cat with one arm, I reached for the remote and switched off the television.
I didn’t need to see the ruins of the festival, covered in soot and ash, as the paramedics cleared out the bodies—or pieces of bodies. They weren’t talking about Tollis or Jameson, so I wasn’t interested in rehashing the horrors of the festival.
Kicking away my afghan, I got to my feet, keeping Artie pressed to my chest, and made my way into the bedroom. He leapt from my arms to land in the middle of the bed.
“Besides,” I said as I tugged off my sweatpants, “I have another man I have to deal with if there isn’t an envelope waiting for me when we wake up.”
Sliding under the covers, fluffing my pillows, and waiting for Artie to find his spot, I thought about my conversation with Edwin. His deadline to get me the other half of my cash was quickly approaching, but I didn’t really expect Fox to come through. That was his choice. For me, I had already decided what his punishment would be, and I was a little excited about it.
Chapter 21
The next night, I was sitting on one of my kitchen chairs, fully dressed for the drizzly weather outside, with one leg crossed over the other, arms crossed over my chest, and glaring at the front door. Fox couldn’t be this stupid. Could a human be a big enough horse’s ass to try and stiff a witch? Really?
When the alarm on my phone went off, telling me it was exactly eight o’clock, and no one knocked at my front door, I knew the answer. Fox was, in fact, this stupid.
“All right, Fox,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “You wanna play? We can play.”
I turned off the alarm with a swipe of my fingers across the screen. The screen pixilated briefly when a spark of anger snapped at my fingertip, but it wasn’t a big enough jolt to damage the phone. I pulled up Edwin’s number and called him. It rang so many times that I thought the call would go to voice mail, but Edwin’s hushed voice came through in the nick of time.
“Ms. Kavanagh, hello,” he whispered.
“Hey there, Eddie boy,” I said in an overly chipper voice. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Yes, I am aware of the time.”
“And do you know what was supposed to happen exactly one minute ago, but did not happen?” I was pacing from the kitchen table to the front door and back again.
“Yes, I do.” He was still keeping his voice low. In the background was the ebb and flow of activity, like he was rushing through a crowded room, trying to get somewhere more private.
“Edwin, I know I didn’t get into specifics with you about what would happen to your boss if he tried to screw me over, but I figured your imagination would do the work. I mean, do you want me to do something to your boss?”
Edwin waited to respond. The background noise on his end of the call cut off, and I heard him catch his breath.
“Ms. Kavanagh,” he said in a normal, level voice, “I am very aware of what you could do. I tried to explain it to Mr. Fox, but he didn’t seem receptive.”
“Receptive?” I laughed. “Awesome, well, you warned him, I warned him, and he’s still gonna be a sour milk-swilling troll about it. Fine, that’s his choice. It’s up to you to tell Fox what will happen to him, but rest assured, that cure I gave him for that uncomfortable problem he had will be reversed. And he’d better pray I don’t find the girl.”
“I understand.” The whole time, Edwin had kept his voice level and professional, almost robotic in its monotone, until he said, “Business is business, after all.”
“That’s right, Eddie, business is business. You have a good night now.” I hung up before he could say anything, but I imagined he was smiling.
Artie was sitting on the kitchen counter, watching me from his usual perch. I cursed the day I voted for that two-faced bridge dweller.
“All right, Artemis, it’s time for Mama to perform a little payback for that assface,” I whispered, feeling a sense of giddiness as I walked into the kitchen. “So he asks me to make him the spell. I make the spell. I give him the spell. And what does that stupid bag of buzzard guts do?” I asked the cat as I slammed my spell pot on the stove top. “He stiffs me!” Sparks erupted from my fingertips in my anger. I snatched a ceramic spoon from the utensil holder on the counter and spun it in my hand. “Well, this is one tricky witch he shouldn’t have messed with!”
“Mrow?”
“Yep, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” I hit the side of the pot with the spoon. The flames erupted underneath it as the clang echoed in the kitchen.
I started gathering items from of the cupboards. “Thistle thorns, oil, peppercorns, chicory, dandelion,” I listed off the ingredients as I found them. “Do you have any idea how much mistletoe that spell took? How much that cost me?” I asked Artemis.
I poured the oil into the heated pot, letting it come to a boil before adding the other ingredients. “Double, double, toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble,” I sang, stirring the pot.
“Mmmrrow.” Artemis stretched long before jumping off the counter to curl up under the tiny kitchen table.
“Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.”
I rummaged through the cupboards again, coming up with a small bottle stopped with an eyedropper. When the potion bubbled with a noxious smell, I tapped the pot with the spoon again, extinguishing the flames. The bubbles died away quickly. Unscrewing the stopper, I dipped the eyedropper into the potion.
“Let’s see how the little toad likes this spell.” I twisted the cap onto the now-full bottle. Holding the little bottle up to the light, I shook it roughly and spoke the incantation, “Pestis pestis vomica. By the power of the moon and the light of the stars, for every lie spoken, mark his face with scars.”
I put the bottle in my messenger bag, slung the bag over my head, and snatched my keys. “Don’t wait up for me, Artie. Mama’s gonna be late tonight.”
The city had worked fast after the massacre in the park, rallying to throw a spur-of-the-moment gala to raise money for the injured and the families of the dead. I knew that was where I would find Fox, putting on a show for the donors. His wife would be there too, on his arm and smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world since she was married to such a perfect, honest man who worked for the little people. One would think Fox would be afraid of pissing me off since his wife could be so easily found. Maybe he figured his wife wouldn’t believe anything I said to her. Well, that was just fine; I wasn’t planning on doing any talking.
The gala was being thrown at the Esterwyn, a sign of good faith between the human politicians and supernaturals since the massacre was an attack on both and the Esterwyn was owned and operated by supernaturals. A pang of panic went through me when I realized I would probably see Theodora, and the possibility of Owen being her escort flashed through my mind.
“Oh freaking well,” I said, gripping the steering wheel until it squeaked. “I’m not staying long anyway.” I was just going to make an appearance. Once Fox saw me, I would be out of there in the blink of an eye. Tonight, of all nights, was not the time to worry about Theo and Owen.
I took the valet ticket from the boy in front of the hotel and asked him not to park my car too far away because I wouldn’t be staying long. I slipped him a twenty, hoping that was enough to get him to do what I asked.
I wasn’t dressed for a gala, not by
a long shot. My leather boots, jeans, and leather jacket would stand out like a sore thumb, but that was kind of what I wanted. I wanted Fox to spot me. I wanted him to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was seeing me. If I’d worn some fancy schmancy dress, he might pretend he was seeing things and convince himself it wasn’t me. I wanted him to know that what happened to him at that gala was because of me.
I didn’t try to go through the main doors into the ballroom. I knew full well I didn’t have an invitation and wasn’t dressed to blend in, so I walked along the halls until I found the service entrance to the kitchens. I darted through the gleaming stainless steel counters, crowded with dozens of white and black jackets of cooks and servers, until I found the back door to the ballroom.
Anyone who was anyone in Southern California was there. Mayors from every city, celebrities, politicians from Washington, rich people who were so rich no one knew who they were, and the few lucky nobodies who’d gotten invited. And standing among them was one very pissed off witch.
I moved along the wall, keeping out of the way of waiters with heavy trays and clusters of glitterati as I made my way to the open bar. One waiter passed me with a tray full of crystal champagne flutes, and I managed to pluck a glass for myself. The waiter didn’t even break his stride when the weight of his tray shifted.
At the bar, I sat on one of the high stools, leaning one elbow on the bar and sipping casually from my glass. The champagne was the most wonderful thing I’d ever tasted in my short life. I didn’t even want to know how much it cost.
As if I had a homing device installed in Fox’s head, I wasn’t sitting there for more than two minutes before my eyes landed right on his stupid face. He was smiling broadly with his stupid teeth, shaking hands with someone. His wife on his arm, smiling at the people around them. Her eyes were glassy and her smile forced, as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the world just then.
“Can I help you?” a voice asked from over my shoulder.
I turned in my seat to see the bartender standing behind me. I expected him to look angry, knowing on sight that I wasn’t supposed to be there, but he smiled at me as if I was anyone else in the room. He lifted his brows expectantly, waiting for me to answer him.
Samhain (Matilda Kavanagh Book 2) Page 24
