Lorcan swept into the room with a loud laugh, and his arm slipped around my waist as he spun me in a slow, deft circle, before yanking me up close and personal with his chest. It wasn’t quite dancing, but it was close. And I must have been an utterly besotted fool, because I let him move me around and didn’t kick his shin, or demand he unhand me at once.

  It just felt so good to melt into his chest, to feel him here—so close to me. The aftershave he’d thrown on earlier was something with notes of spice in it, and it made me want to lick a stripe up his throat as heat coiled and curled in my stomach.

  He hummed, pivoting. “It feels as if I haven’t seen you in ages, my love.”

  I sniffed, tilting my nose up, like I wasn’t melting against his chest like warm toffee. “You saw me eight hours ago.”

  “The sentiment is still the same.”

  I gave him a pointed eyebrow raise. “Careful. If you’re too clingy, I might run away with some other dashing vampire.”

  My pulse leapt, and I sucked in a surprised gasp as Lorcan dipped me suddenly, my hair draping almost to the floor. Then he held me there as he grinned down at me, his green eyes sparkling while he held me, effortlessly.

  “My dear, you should know by now that there are no vampires as dashing as me.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Dashing and humble. They don’t make them like you anymore.”

  “That’s exactly what I keep trying to tell you.”

  When he finally pulled me back to my feet, I smacked him on the shoulder lightly, pretending the flush on my cheeks was annoyance. I started to say something snarky back, but paused. This might actually be an opportunity—my chance to do some reconnaissance, mine Lorcan for some ideas pertaining to our anniversary celebration. Not that I wanted to be obvious, of course. I didn’t want Lorcan to suspect anything.

  So, I plastered myself to his chest again, and started playing with the buttons of his dress shirt. “Well, what should we do, then?” I asked, looking up through my eyelashes at him.

  Lorcan’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. As if in response, his hands tightened around my waist, and he swallowed hard enough that I could hear the bob of his throat. It was gratifying, the poleaxed look in his eyes.

  “Anything you want, sweetling.” His voice was low, and just a little raspy.

  It was hard not to grin like a cat with canary feathers sticking out of her mouth. I definitely did enjoy the effect I had on Lorcan, how focused he could be on me. But maybe I’d over done it, because I was going to need better ideas from him than ‘anything you want’.

  My hands slid up Lorcan’s chest to loop around the back of his neck, and I managed to press just a tiny bit closer. “Well, if you could do anything at this moment, what would you choose to do?”

  “What I’m doing right now.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is there… any place you’d choose to go? And what activity would most interest you? Something specific, maybe?”

  “My dear, you’re acting as if Dr. Frankenstein has lobotomized you.”

  I gave him the expression his comment deserved. But as soon as I was about to ask him another three to five questions, my voice went breathy as he leaned forward to start pressing gentle kisses against the skin of my throat. Shivers raced down my spine, tingling into my arms and legs, and I had to grind my teeth together to keep an embarrassing sound from slipping free.

  “I have not been lobotomized, I’ll have you know,” I managed.

  “Regardless, that was still… a mouthful,” Lorcan said with a chuckle.

  I tugged a lock of his blond hair lightly, fighting to keep my voice somewhere close to even. “Mouthful it might have been but… any suggestions?”

  Lorcan paused, his lips pressed just over my pulse, and it raced to meet him. He brushed one more kiss against my skin, and then leaned back to look at me, blond brows creased with concern. “What’s this about, love?”

  “What’s what about?”

  “Why are you bulleting me with all these questions?”

  He actually started to pull back, and something that definitely wasn’t desperation but might have been in the same family, had me gripping his shoulders tight. “I’m just curious,” I said, trying to sound innocent. “I thought maybe you meant you wanted to go on a date.”

  “At this moment?” he asked, his eyes reaching for the ceiling. Then he shook his head. “I was thinking more along the lines of disrobing you right here and right now.”

  Hmm, so my attempts to get information out of him hadn’t worked. I should have known. ‘Ingenue’ wasn’t a role I could pull off, and thank the Goddess for that.

  “Hmm,” I started.

  Lorcan’s face twitched like he was hiding a smile, but his brows pulled together over the bridge of his nose as he scanned my face. “Are you feeling alright?”

  Mission failure. Fall back, fall back. He was definitely onto me.

  Flustered, I cursed internally, but kept the smile on my face. Luckily for me, leaning forward to drag my teeth over his bottom lip was all I needed to make the concerned look on his face evaporate like ice water in hell.

  “I’m fine,” I purred, arching against him. “And, yes, I think you should disrobe me right here and right now.”

  Lorcan’s hands twitched around my hips, fingers digging in before he forced them to loosen. That one little flash of strength, a teeny loss of control, caused heat to pool in my stomach. As distractions went, this sure wasn’t a sacrifice.

  I started nudging him back towards the hallway that led to the bedroom, feeling like my veins were full of warm honey. Lorcan stopped me and then pushed me against the wall as he brought his mouth down on mine. The hot glide of his tongue caused my heart to start pounding, and I didn’t even care that his arm around my waist was the only thing keeping me on my feet.

  Lorcan’s lips moved down my neck, brushing against my shoulder, and my breath came out in a shuddering sigh at the firm press of fangs I suddenly felt there.

  I’d worry about anniversary dates later.

  Much, much later.

  Chapter Four

  A few millennia ago, some mundane warrior had given the excellent advice: know your enemy.

  Instinct worked alright with magic, but sometimes, for some spells or enchantments or potions, you really needed to dig in and do your research. That was how you ended up with a potion of protection, instead of something that exploded in your face and melted your skin off.

  And I’d seen that happen. Once.

  The point was, I needed ideas. And if the frontal assault wasn’t going to get me what I wanted, well then, I was just going to have to be a little sneaky about it. And while Lorcan wasn’t my enemy, ‘knowing your enemy’ or in this case, ‘knowing your spouse’ still seemed like really good advice.

  Without a single ounce of guilt, I pawed through some of the books that Lorcan kept in his night table, ignoring the dental magazines, and one horrific medical text on teeth that had my mouth puckering like I’d bitten into a lemon.

  Hard. Pass.

  There were a couple of romance novels (why—I had no clue—maybe they were Lorcan’s guilty obsession?), but a courtroom sounded boring and a pirate ship was completely impractical. So, I continued searching. For what? I wasn’t exactly sure—just something that might give me a window into his personality and help me uncover something that I hadn’t known was there. And while his obvious interest in romance novels was interesting (and maybe slightly alarming), that little tidbit wasn’t offering me much.

  I pawed through Lorcan’s half of the closet, but that didn’t yield much—pretty much all his clothes had already been approved by or purchased by me. So, yeah, nothing there. Then I turned on his laptop and checked his browsing history. While that might have sounded like I was invading his personal space (which I supposed I was), I didn’t care. Mainly because I knew Lorcan wouldn’t care, and furthermore, this was important. I needed intel if I was going to plan a date that would knock his undead socks off.

  I flopped back onto the bed and let out a long sigh. All of that time and work and for what? It had all been a bust. I still had plenty of time left before Lorcan came home from work, but I didn’t think rifling through his sock drawer was going to net me any better results. I mean, I knew Lorcan—obviously I did. Probably better than anyone else in Haven Hollow knew him. As part of knowing him, I was aware of the things he enjoyed, but somehow I couldn’t seem to make that info translate into a killer date—one that would blow him away.

  This was ridiculous. I was a witch. I’d barely even been exposed to monogamy until I was over a century old, and suddenly I was trying to put a memorable date together? I could have just brushed the whole thing off. Dismissed it, like any other self-respecting witch would have. What did an anniversary even matter to a man who would live forever?

  But… And oh, spell, did it chafe to admit it, but the whole thing had become something of a matter of pride to me now—a challenge I’d laid out for myself. And one I didn’t want to lose. I was Wanda Depraysie, for crying out loud. No way was I going to be beaten by something human teenagers did all the time. Ridiculous.

  Well, as ridiculous as it might have been, it didn’t change the fact that I was fresh out of ideas. Actually, it was more fitting to say an idea hadn’t even occurred to me yet. I figured I couldn’t claim to be very creative. Right. The sad truth was, I was going to need some advice. Some help.

  “Ugh.” I dragged myself to my feet and headed for the closet. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  But I was on a time crunch, so best to just get it over with.

  ***

  It was early enough in the evening that the coven house was busy. Not that witches kept terribly diurnal schedules, even when we weren’t pretending to be vampires. Regardless, I could hear music coming through the walls, and low voices, laughter, and the murmur of a conversation or a television, or a conversation on a television.

  The cup of tea Betanya had pressed into my hands had gone cold a while ago as I fought to spit out exactly what I wanted to ask her. Once I managed, Betanya gave the question some thought, sipping at her own tea in its delicate china cup, patterned with bats.

  Betanya was the oldest member of Circle Scapegrace, if I didn’t count Lorcan. And for what I was asking, I couldn’t count Lorcan, so Betanya it was. She’d been something of a trailblazer for me, as a witch who’d been blooded by a vampire, driven from her coven, and ended up in Haven Hollow.

  Of course, things had taken a different turn for Betanya. The vampire who’d tried to turn her, Roscoe, had chased her here, then hunted her relentlessly, trying to finish her transition. She’d been forced to retreat to a magical pocket dimension (called the Veil) in which to hide, but Roscoe had hunted her there, too, and they’d both been trapped there for decades as the world moved on without them. Talk about being dealt a bad hand…

  Anyway, Poppy and I had sprung Betanya from the Veil, and then we’d all teamed up to take Roscoe down. Killing the vampire who’d blooded her had turned Betanya back into a witch, removing her Blood Witch power. But she was still powerful, and knowledgeable, and a huge asset to the coven.

  Plus, she was a red-headed witch. And they were known for shaking things up.

  That red hair was now liberally streaked with gray, but other than a few lines at the edges of her eyes and around her mouth, Betanya didn’t look old. Witches tended to age pretty gracefully. Me, I barely looked a day over forty even though I was far older than that.

  Betanya hummed, her head tilted to the side as she gazed down into her tea cup, like the answer might be hidden at the bottom.

  “A good date…” She smiled and still harbored the expression of surprise that had welled up in her eyes as soon as I’d asked her the idiotic question.

  “Can you… keep your voice down?” I asked, glancing around to make sure no one had heard me. While I wasn’t a traditional witch in all aspects of the word, I also didn’t want my business broadcasted for everyone to hear. It was… well, it was pretty embarrassing, actually.

  “Well… I don’t know that I’ll be able to help you much, Wanda,” she answered on a sigh. “You know… it’s been a while since I even did such a thing, let alone had any interest in a man. Tell me, are cotillions still a thing? I seem to remember that those were fun, once upon a time.”

  I blinked, realizing I’d made a mistake. “Uh, no. No, I don’t think those are still a thing.”

  “Shame.” Betanya frowned, swirling her tea cup, as she sighed then shook her head. “Well, the last time I was out and about before you and Poppy freed me, I believe roller skating was quite popular. And Discos.”

  Yes, this had been a mistake. No way was I going roller skating—my behind was for looking fabulous, not for landing on the ground. And Lorcan in skates? Pass. As to a disco? I honestly didn’t know which outcome would be worse; if Lorcan hated it, or if he loved it. I could just imagine him wanting to spend every weekend night in bell bottoms and circular glasses jamming out to ABBA.

  Egad.

  I appreciated Betanya trying, but nothing she’d mentioned was helpful to anyone looking to have fun sometime in the last few decades.

  “Oh.” Her face brightened. “What about a medical museum?”

  “A what?” I frowned.

  She nodded, like this was the greatest of all great ideas. “There’s one just outside of Portland, and I’m told it’s quite accurate. Lorcan might enjoy that. They even have a dental section.”

  Dental section? Ugh. I’d seen enough of what mundanes had done in the name of medicine through the past century, I didn’t need to see it preserved and documented in some stuffy room full of stuffy people. Sorry, Lorcan. Except, I wasn’t really sorry. Not only did this date need to be fun for Lorcan, but it needed to be fun for me. And medical stuff?

  No, not fun.

  Willie-Ray, Betanya’s familiar, waddled up to us then. He was a skunk who was dressed in a sleeveless flannel shirt and cut-off jean shorts. He was also possibly the only sensible creature in the entire room, because he shook his head at us like he couldn’t believe this was the topic of the hour. Then with a muttered, “summa bitch,” he headed for the stairs to the second floor, like he couldn’t take another moment of listening to the sputum coming from our mouths.

  And honestly, that was fair.

  Chapter Five

  “What in blast are you doing?”

  That voice, that horrible little voice.

  My already foul mood dropped. “I’m visiting the coven. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  My familiar, Hellcat, slunk out from one of the bedrooms and gave me a narrow look from his otherwise bright eyes. His black fur was mussed, like he’d just woken up and hadn’t groomed himself yet, but was still trying to look down his nose at me.

  “You cannot blame me for being shocked to see you, you strumpet layabout. I was starting to think you’d forgotten you were even a witch, what with how you’ve practically abandoned your duties.”

  Don’t rise to the bait, Wanda, I told myself. Don’t you do it.

  “What does it matter to you, anyway?” I growled at him.

  In response, Hellcat lifted one leg and started grooming the space between his toes. “Sometimes I think you’ve really started to believe you’re a vampire.”

  “Well, it’s either this, or the vampires try to turn me for real. So, suck it up, fur bag. I’m doing the best I can.”

  His head snapped around then, tail lashing against the carpet. “I see the fornicating you’ve been up to with your undead paramour hasn’t done anything for your manners. It’s a wonder even he can stand you.”

  Normally, I would have cast myself to the sea before I let on that one of Hellcat’s many, many, many complaints actually got to me. But with how I was struggling to even plan a date, and the fact that the rest of my life seemed to be blowing up around me, well his words landed like a solid blow to the gut.

  Not that I was going to let the little beast know it.

  “Keep talking, you hyped-up bunny slipper,” I grumbled. “That memory foam bed in your room over there?”

  He paused in his grooming. “What of it?”

  “It’s one more word away from ending up in the dumpster.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  I smiled with too many teeth. “Try me.”

  All his fur suddenly standing on end made Hellcat’s retreat appear a little less pompous than it would have, even with his nose up in the air. But I’d take it if it bought me another hour without him sniping away in my ear. At least he’d stopped singing my mother’s praises. Yep, he used to go on and on about how she was the witch to end all witches. That was until he found out that she was the reason he’d lost his first owner, my brother, who was turned into a fangface at my mother’s behest. Vampires didn’t have familiars, after all. Their bond didn’t survive the transformation.

  Something to look forward to if I ever got turned all the way, I guessed.

  Still, that didn’t mean that Hellcat’s attitude didn’t just crawl all the way up my nose when he got going. And I had enough on my plate as it was. Not to mention three cups of tea rattling around in my stomach.

  I sighed and headed for the room at the end of the hall.

  ***

  I’d heard stories and legends about the levels of the hells and the demons that spawned there. Talking to Fifi, Haven Hollow’s greatest real estate agent and resident succubus, had filled me in on a few interesting details. She’d explained that there were hells of fire, and hells of ice. Hells made up of writhing bodies and too warm flesh. They were as varied in their horrors as they were in their unique little cruelties.

  But there weren’t just hells of ice and fire. There was another hell I’d just discovered—one made of cloying perfume, nonstop chatter, and an offensive amount of enthusiasm usually found in preschool teachers. Olga, the coven’s next oldest member and resident hopeless romantic, clutched yet another piece of perfumed paper to her impressive bosom and squealed like a fourteen-year-old girl.