“You’re right. I know you’re a private person and that was a... painfully honest moment everyone witnessed.”

  I snorted. “That’s an understatement. Sybil has yet to develop a filter.”

  “That will come with time, assuming she doesn’t return to her former state.”

  “You heard what Betanya said—Sybil is here for good.”

  Lorcan nodded. “Well, then, take comfort in the fact that all children grow up. If it’s any consolation, you made a beautiful baby.”

  “With Maverick,” I grunted, shaking my head as that realization continued to gnaw at me. “You can’t tell me that doesn’t bother you.”

  “Of course it does,” he answered with a shrug. “Until I remind myself of the particulars—that love for Maverick had nothing to do with it.”

  “Love for Maverick,” I repeated, sighing. “Half the time I’m not sure if I even like him. He’s a difficult person.”

  “Truer words were never spoken,” Lorcan answered with a chuckle.

  I looked up at him and couldn’t help my smile. This whole situation was just so completely ludicrous. “Before all of this happened, Poppy said she’d whip up a custody agreement, but I doubt it will come to anything. Maverick is shaping up to be a deadbeat dad. Go figure.”

  Lorcan brushed my hair away from my face. “It’s going to be alright, sweetling. We have all the time in the world to sort this out. Everything will be fine.”

  “But that’s just it—we don’t have time,” I said, a frantic edge to my voice as the rest of this damned situation dawned on me. “I have until the end of the week to figure this out. After that, things are going to come to a swift and bloody end.”

  Lorcan’s brows drew together as confusion overtook his features. “What do you mean?”

  I reached into the inside pocket of my coat and withdrew the red envelope from Rupert. Lorcan stiffened at the sight of it, no doubt recognizing the stationery. Supernatural entities tended to be sticklers for tradition. He’d know what Rupert preferred to use for his official summons. Snatching the envelope from my hands, Lorcan tugged the letter out. With his superior eyesight he’d see the text in the darkness just fine.

  “Fecking bastard,” he hissed. “This is blackmail!” He dropped the letter then as if it had stung him. “I won’t let this stand. This is a Hollow with a legal Council. There are rules—”

  “Which he’s already ignored,” I pointed out. “Even if we convene an emergency meeting of the Council, what will come of it? There are only several dozen supernaturals living in Haven Hollow. How many vampires does Rupert have at his disposal?”

  I could practically hear Lorcan’s molars grinding. “Three or four times that.”

  “Exactly. So that means that even if everyone could fight, and plenty of them can’t, we’re still outnumbered. We’d just get ourselves and everyone else killed.”

  Lorcan began pacing the floor. He could only manage a small circuit, given the number of racks I’d packed into my shop. His hands twitched at his sides as if longing to wrap around someone’s neck.

  “We can’t let him win, Wanda,” he said finally, as he looked up at me and his expression was stern, resolved. “This should now be a non-issue. You’re not a Blood Witch anymore so it should no longer matter. He should leave well enough alone.”

  “I agree, but how are we going to convince him of that? He knows you care about me. For all he knows you’re just lying to cover our asses—maybe he believes I am still a Blood Witch?”

  Lorcan nodded. “I’m sure he knows the truth.”

  “How?”

  “Spies,” he answered on a shrug. “Rupert has his people everywhere and with a subject as important as this one, he will know the truth.”

  “Then why,” I started but Lorcan interrupted me.

  “He’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants.”

  “And he wants me fully turned,” I answered, nodding because it made sense. “Preferably by you.”

  “Which you don’t want,” he muttered as he shook his head and resumed his pacing. “You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

  “What if I said yes and allowed you to fully turn me?” I asked in a strained whisper. “Do you think then Rupert would stop gunning for us?”

  Lorcan’s pace stuttered, and he turned to me, his expression guarded. “Don’t say that, sweetling.”

  “Don’t say what?”

  “This is not a subject to consider unless you’re serious about it. You can’t take it back when it’s done, and I won’t spend eternity knowing you loathe what you are.” He cleared his throat and held my gaze. “I don’t want to put you through what your brothers went through… what they’re still going through.”

  “Maybe it’s the only option we have left.”

  He shook his head. “This is your fear talking… it’s not what you truly feel must be done.”

  “Don’t tell me what I feel, Rowe, and it’s not my fear talking: don’t make it sound like I’m a coward.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m not calling you a coward, Depraysie. I’m saying you’re a mite irrational where your family and friends are concerned.”

  “And where are your examples to support such a claim?”

  He chuckled. “You tore apart a warehouse the last time Astrid was in danger. I know full well you’d give up your mortality if you thought it would keep everyone safe.”

  Of course, I would. I’d do so for Astrid alone because she was the next best thing I had to a daughter. At least, she had been. Now I had an actual daughter, as much a part of my family as Astrid’s. Perhaps more so. Recombining my DNA with Maverick’s would have been bad enough, but we’d literally spliced together bits of our former souls to create... whatever Sybil was now. What would become of her if Rupert attacked the Hollow? Would she be killed? Could she be killed?

  I sunk to the ground, bracing my back against the till as the implications of what Rupert was planning really sank in. He was prepared to tear Haven Hollow down around our ears, risking exposure, and for what? One measly little former Blood Witch? It was absurd. But how in the name of the goddess could we stop him?

  I was so lost in my doomsday imaginings that I barely noticed when Lorcan took up a position beside me. His cool hand slid into mine, thumb gliding gently over my knuckles. He tucked my head into the hollow of his throat and sighed.

  “Don’t fret. We’ll find a way out of this.”

  Doubtful. Even if I packed up every one of my friends, Rupert would follow me. I knew he would. The only path forward was to die or become a fully vetted vamp, and I wasn’t sure if I could stomach either.

  “What does it feel like to die?” I asked Lorcan.

  “Don’t you recall?” he asked. “You must have had many lives prior to this one?”

  I nodded and then shook my head. “I can’t recall my past lives without the aid of a potion and I don’t remember dying or being born. For as long as I’ve been in this body, I’ve just been... me. It’s hard to imagine it all ending.”

  Lorcan’s fingers flexed painfully around mine. “Your life is not going to end, my love. I’m not going to allow Rupert to force the issue. If you turn, it will be your idea and no one else’s.”

  “Humor me for a moment… What did it feel like when you died?”

  Lorcan was silent for so long, I thought he’d ignored me. The hush of the air conditioner filled the room, briefly stirring the sleeves of shirts and dresses as it circulated. A hum of silent, barely perceptible magic exuded from every piece.

  “It was terrifying,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t aware of what my sire was doing, and he didn’t make any effort to ease the pain. That was the point, I expect. To scare me as much as possible. It wouldn’t be like that for you, of course. I would be as gentle as I could with you. And when you reached the tipping point it would be most like... falling asleep at the end of a long day.”

  “Do you remember what’s... beyond?”

  He shook his head. “I’m as ignorant of that as you are. I only remember that it was dark and comfortable. Like being swathed in your favorite blanket. Waking was the worst part.”

  I swallowed hard. “Why?”

  “It was so damned cold in those first moments. Humans and human-like creatures take warmth for granted. You’re around ninety-eight degrees on a typical day. When you wake as one of us, you’re suddenly at room temperature. In here that’s what? Sixty degrees?”

  “The thermostat is set for sixty-eight.”

  He nodded. “It was colder underground when I woke. Downright nippy when you’re used to being a living, breathing person. You warm up after feeding, of course, and you never get that cold again, but it’s an adjustment to be sure.”

  Was that what I had to look forward to? Cold and darkness? It seemed so... empty.

  “It won’t happen,” Lorcan repeated as he reached out and squeezed my hand. “I will never put you through it without your consent and even then, I can’t imagine myself willingly doing so.”

  I turned my head, lifting my face toward him. “Kiss me.”

  “Don’t say it like that,” he said, jaw flexing stubbornly.

  “Like what?”

  “Like it’s goodbye. This isn’t the end, Wanda.”

  We would see.

  I reached for the hooks on my bra and gave him a coy smile. “Just stop talking and take your pants off, Rowe.”

  The rest we’d figure out later.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lorcan didn’t take off his pants as ordered, which was a damned shame.

  Yes, his ass looked spectacular in dress slacks, but it looked even better out of them. Instead, he leaned in, slanted his mouth over mine, and kissed me.

  And it was unlike any kiss we’d ever shared.

  Our relationship, for good or ill, had always been a thing of passion, a thing with teeth, and the bite of nails on skin. We were natural enemies, which meant an intertwining of such, a tangling, had violent and often delightful ends. Prior to my deciding to ignore him for a protracted length of time, we’d ‘tangled’ more times than I could count, but it was never enough. I always wanted more: more hard, drugging kisses, more hair-pulling, more of the delicious ache he left between my legs.

  This kiss though was so achingly tender, it brought stinging tears to my eyes.

  As if feeling the reaction he had on me, Lorcan cradled my face in his hands like I was something breakable, something infinitely precious. ‘Infinitely precious’ was probably exactly how Lorcan saw me, even though he knew better. I was a witch, a fact which had always evened the playing field between us. Lorcan was stronger and faster than I was, but I could weaponize nature against him.

  I’d told him once that I wasn’t toothless, and I’d meant it. But I doubted he’d ever stop seeing me as his responsibility. There was a broken part of him that still pined for his sire. It didn’t matter that the man had been a bastard who’d turned Lorcan for spite. There was just something about being abandoned by a parent that carved a ragged hole inside you. I knew that personally. Mother had turned on me the second she’d obtained second sight and realized I would lead to her downfall.

  Even though both he and I had been abandoned in our young lives, I knew Lorcan would always be there for me, no matter what. And I could say the same for myself—no matter what happened between us, he would always be able to count on me.

  His mouth moved slowly and ever so gently against mine, coaxing the kiss into a smooth, unhurried rhythm. His hands slid from my face, down the column of my throat, and across my shoulders. This was the point at which there was usually a sense of rising impatience that resulted in the destruction of whatever was in the way. I couldn’t feel that tension in the line of his body now though. He was so damned gentle, even as he explored the contours of my body. It took me a moment to realize why.

  Lorcan thought this might be the last time he’d feel me blazing with warmth, my heart thundering as he touched me. For all his protests to the contrary, I was fairly sure he didn’t think I’d make it out of this alive—that Rupert would insist I turn. If my days were numbered, Lorcan wanted to savor this moment now, not tear my clothes off in a frenzy.

  The tears actually did start falling then. “Lorcan.”

  “Shh,” he murmured, cutting me off with another, harder kiss. “Don’t say anything.”

  I snorted but cursed my voice for shaking as I retorted, “Don’t give me orders, Rowe. You know I’ll hex your ass.”

  “You like my ass too much to do any such thing,” he teased, trailing kisses across my jaw. I squirmed when he nipped lightly at the hollow beneath my ear.

  He had a point.

  I dropped my hands to his ass and squeezed for emphasis. Doing so ground him against my front and I smirked when air hissed through his teeth in response. He rose up onto his knees, wedging one between my legs so he could nudge them apart. The skirt of my dress rode up, bunching the royal blue satin around my thighs.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  He let out a shuddering breath against the skin of my throat. “Don’t say it like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like this is goodbye.”

  I swallowed hard.

  “This isn’t goodbye, Wanda.”

  I wound my fingers into the golden strands of hair at the nape of his neck. I stared up at him, mouth twisting into a rueful smile.

  “You don’t believe that any more than I do,” I insisted, even as a smile tried to soften the blow. “We don’t have enough time to mount a defense against Rupert. That means it’s run or fight. Those are our only options.”

  “There has to be an alternative,” Lorcan insisted. “We just haven’t thought of it yet, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t out there.”

  I shook my head. “Rupert is threatening to kick off another Blood War, and that means it’s not just my life on the line. It’s every witch’s life. And every vampire’s life too, for that matter.”

  His fingers curled into my skin, a pressure just this side of pain. “There has to be another way,” he ground out. “You don’t want this. You said as much yourself earlier in the week. And if you don’t want it, I don’t want it either.”

  “I said I didn’t want to turn if my life wasn’t on the line. Now it is. Just...” I sucked in a fortifying breath. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.”

  “Wanda—”

  I turned my head, flipping my long, dark curtain of hair behind one shoulder. I felt him tense. He’d been hovering above my pulse point for a while, never quite touching me there. Seeing it seemed to make things worse. I heard him swallow convulsively.

  “Bite me,” I said softly. “I trust you. Just... just make sure Rupert knows soon that I’ve been fully turned. If he hurts anyone in Haven Hollow, I’ll find a nice pair of pliers and rip his fangs out.”

  “He won’t hurt anyone, that I promise you,” Lorcan said. Then his lips found my pulse. My heart beat a staccato rhythm. Could he taste my fear? The shameful sense of anticipation?

  Last time I’d been too blissed out by magic and a series of phenomenal orgasms to pay much attention to his bite. Part of me was afraid Lorcan’s bite would be like the other pair I’d experienced. Janeth had been messy, tearing into my throat viciously in an attempt to get as much blood as possible. Genevieve had nearly broken my neck to keep me still. She’d done her best to make the experience as unpleasant as possible. She’d wanted Lorcan, and she’d almost drained me in a fit of jealous rage. I was braced for pain. I’d been through enough of it in my life to know I could weather the storm and come out the other side.

  Lorcan’s fangs sank through my skin, a lance of sharp, unexpected pain that immediately dimmed into a dull ache. His hand wound possessively into my hair, groaning as the first pull of blood washed across his tongue. And then...

  Oh.

  Oh, wow.

  I’d never understood vampire groupies. I knew they existed, of course. Part of me had put it down to the romanticization of vampires in the media. Somewhere around the turn of the century, the vampire had gone from a bloodsucking fiend into a tragic, misunderstood hero. The truth though was somewhere in the middle. Some of them were bastards. Most of them were ordinary, and a few were even heroic. But without fail, vampires had a pool of willing partners. I hadn’t grasped just why. Getting bitten hurt, right? Their saliva couldn’t offset the reality that much, could it?

  Yes. Yes, it could.

  There seemed to be a line between Lorcan’s mouth and my groin because every pull of blood felt more sensual than the glide of his fingertips against me. Which, I realized belatedly, he was also doing. I wasn’t sure exactly when my underwear had been reduced to lacy ribbons, but it was now nothing more than confetti on the floor. I bucked when his fingers traced that sensitive nub between my thighs, sending a spike of pleasure through me.

  There had to be a conscious choice to drug the victim, or I’d have gone smiling to my death when bitten by other vampires. Technically, that was what I was doing now. La Petite Mort, indeed.

  I was making soft, mewling sounds of pleasure when Lorcan pulled away. My blood glistened on his lips for a moment before he licked it away. Hunger was etched into every line of his face as he stared down at me, but softened when he saw my bemused expression.

  “Is it over?” I asked, voice a little faint. I felt dizzy. Blood loss or good old-fashioned lust? “Am I going to...?”

  “Die?” he asked. He sounded amused. At my expense. Bastard. “No, sweetling. Not for a long while if I can help it.”

  I smacked his bicep weakly. “I told you I’m ready.”

  He leaned in, suckling the wound gently until the last of the ache was gone. He was still touching me, running his fingers lazily over that small nub between my legs as he cleared away the last remnants of my blood. When he spoke, his voice tickled the sensitive skin around the bite, making me writhe beneath him.

  “You’re not ready. You will never be ready because vampire is not what you’re meant to be.”