“And how am I impossible? Because I speak the truth?”

  “No… you’re just… annoying.”

  He chuckled again as he stood up and neared me. “I would like to know more about this man who has… taken you, dearest.”

  Suddenly he was just there, crowding into my personal space. The dress shirt he wore brushed against my skin, raising goosebumps anywhere we touched. The shirt was made of cotton, and cut to accommodate his shoulders. I would know. I’d made it. He tipped my chin up, so I’d have to look at him. “Do tell me about him?”

  “He’s… he’s… boring, short, rotund, and bald,” I started, narrowing my eyes as his grin grew. “And he’s… hairy.”

  “Hairy? Goodness!”

  “Yes, he’s covered in hair.”

  “Well, all except his bald head?”

  “Right, all except his bald and… very wrinkly head.”

  “And what of his face?”

  “It’s hairy too. He looks like a dog man.”

  “Ah, what a lucky woman you are to have been taken by such an example of masculinity.”

  I looked at him then as he stood maybe an inch or so away and he looked back down at me. He wore that boyish smile of his that drove me nuts most of the time, but now it wasn’t quite as irritating as it usually was. I swallowed hard.

  “Are you?” he whispered as he held my gaze and I felt my heart start to ride up into my throat.

  “Am I what?” I asked, having lost the thread of the conversation somewhere in the flood of hormones. He had to hear my heart beating, right? Damn it, this was why most witches had flings with humans. At least humans couldn’t hear our every embarrassing bodily reaction.

  “Taken?” he whispered.

  I didn’t want to meet the deep, drowning green of his eyes, but keeping my gaze on the zipper of my suitcase seemed cowardly. Witches didn’t cower. Especially not this witch. So, I lifted my chin a little higher and met his gaze steadily. Or at least, I tried to. My stomach did a violent backflip when he somehow managed to move even closer to me until only a hair’s width separated our faces.

  We’d been close before.

  We’d tried to break the tie that bound us at least two or three times a month. That usually entailed sitting on his lap, sans half my clothing. But that closeness had never felt like this closeness. I hadn’t stared at him from a sliver away, wondering what it would be like to take things further.

  Well, not seriously anyway.

  There wasn’t a reasonably straight woman in the Hollow who hadn’t had the idle fantasy about Lorcan Rowe. He was just too damn good-looking and charming not to give women ideas. But until now, I’d always had the magical equivalent to a cold shower handy. If I got too close to Lorcan, he’d bite me, and I’d wake up a vampire three days post-coitus. Not exactly the afterglow I was looking for.

  Now, with the necklace he’d given me latched around my throat, I was running out of excuses. The repulsion charm would react if he tried to rip into me, so sex with him was no more dangerous than it would be with any other man.

  Ahem. Right.

  My heart squeezed tight when my bare skin brushed against the fabric of his shirt. His breath caught when I fiddled with his top button, popping it casually before moving to the next one. When I spoke, our lips brushed.

  “Yes, I’m taken,” I whispered. “How taken is up to you.”

  A strangled sound escaped him, and then his lips were on mine.

  His arms wound around my waist, trapping me against his chest. It made undoing his buttons a challenge, but I managed. I was intensely grateful that Hellcat had decided to wander, instead of sleeping at the foot of the bed. I wasn’t ashamed of my sexuality, but I did take umbrage with expressing it in front of my asshole of a cat, who’d no doubt start a running commentary on my technique.

  Okay, was this really happening? Were we really doing this? I thought to myself.

  Yes, so shut it!

  I backed Lorcan up a step before giving him a light shove. He tumbled backward onto the bed, shrugging out of his shirt as he went. The shirt went flying across the room to land goddess-knew-where.

  I leaned over him, cautiously tracing the lines of his muscled chest. His muscles weren’t the sculpted type you got at the gym, all for show and bred from vanity. His were the result of a lifetime of manual labor, and probably under the most miserable conditions possible, given the era he’d been born into.

  Lorcan shuddered when I raked my fingernails lightly over his skin. His eyes flew open wide when I clambered on top of him, straddling his waist.

  “Sweetling,” he began, concern in his voice.

  “Shh,” I replied, leaning down to kiss him again. “No more talking. We’ve had a lifetime of too much talking…”

  He gripped my shoulders, pushing me back enough that he could see into my eyes. The intensity in those deep green eyes had my stomach performing another gymnastics routine. I felt like a nervous teenager again, unsure of myself for the first time since losing my virginity. That had been almost a hundred and twenty years ago. I shouldn’t be getting this flustered over one man, vampire or not.

  “I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” he began as he breathed in deeply. “But we do have to talk about this.”

  “Why?” I asked, flipping the long curtain of my hair over one shoulder.

  I had to strain to reach the clasps of my bra, but the look on Lorcan’s face was worth the effort. He lifted a hand, seemingly without thought, to trace the underside of my left breast. His delicate touch made hot, tingling need surge through me, and I actually moaned when he drew a cool finger over one nipple.

  “Because I want to be sure that we’re on the same page about this, Wanda.”

  I tensed.

  The fact that he’d used my real name instead of one of the myriad, irritating pet names meant he was taking this seriously. Damn it, why did everything always have to be complicated? Couldn’t a girl just get a romp when she wanted one?

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I hedged, taking his hand in mine, trying to press it closer to my skin.

  His lips pursed. “You know what I mean… I want to know… what this means to you.”

  I traced a line down his chest, gratified when he shivered under my touch. I paused, then dipped a finger into his waistband. He was wearing silk boxer shorts, just like the last time I’d fiddled with his underthings. He caught my hand before I could go further.

  “It means I want you,” I said, sounding as annoyed as I felt. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted action. “Now shut up and take your pants off.”

  His jaw flexed stubbornly. “No.”

  I stared at him, lips parted in surprise. No man had gotten me alone and naked and then said ‘no’. That wasn’t how this worked, not with Wanda Depraysie.

  “Um… I’m standing here, all but naked, and you’re saying no?”

  “Yes, I’m saying no.”

  “What? Have you spontaneously gone gay?” I demanded, shaking my head. “Lorcan, this is what you’ve been after from day one! You want me, and I want you!”

  “No, I have not spontaneously gone gay,” Lorcan managed, as he wriggled out from under me, and I toppled sideways onto the soft bedspread. A tightness began in my chest, a completely nonsensical hurt throbbing just behind my breastbone.

  “The problem is that you’re deflecting.”

  “I’m what?”

  “My feelings for you are deep and they are genuine, and I don’t want to be your stress relief. The first time you and I are together… should mean something. I understand this weekend will be taxing but…”

  Furious sparks leapt from my fingertips before I could consciously stop them. He thought this was... was stress relief? Was he blind, or just an idiot?

  “That’s not what this is,” I hissed. “And you damn well know it.”

  His jaw was suddenly tight. We were really arguing about this?

  “I don’t, actually,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “You never let me in far enough to know what you’re thinking or feeling. You’re an enigma, and normally I love that about you, but not this time and not where making love is concerned. This time I need to know

  what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours before I divest myself of my trousers.”

  I was seriously considering gagging him with said trousers, but managed to avoid the urge. Instead, I mouthed soundlessly, not really sure if what I wanted to say was the right thing to say. Was he seriously going to... to hold sex ransom until I talked to him? Until I admitted… what? My feelings for him? Where had this nobility been on our first meeting, when he’d been propositioning me left and right? Was this all some kind of game, where he got off on stringing me along? Or had he really spontaneously turned gay?

  I reached down and plucked my clothes off the floor. I didn’t look at him as I shimmied back into the bra and shirt.

  “I’m going to leave for a bit,” I muttered. Preferably until dawn, so I wouldn’t have to look at the smarmy bastard until the following evening. “I need some air.”

  “Wanda, wait—”

  I bent and retrieved my purse from the floor. There had to be a bar around here somewhere. I needed a stiff one (or seven) to wash the taste of disappointment, confusion, anger, and disbelief out of my mouth.

  “If you want to sleep alone, that’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow night, Lorcan. I’m going to get a drink. Don’t follow me.”

  He called my name again, but I didn’t turn back.

  The door shuddered on its frame when I slammed it shut behind me.

  Chapter Eleven

  An hour later and I was sitting in the midst of Bedeviled Brews, knocking back my fourth glass of wine.

  It’d been an hour since I’d stormed out of the room, leaving a bewildered Lorcan still calling after me. He hadn’t come looking for me, just like I’d asked, and for some reason, that pissed me off more.

  I scowled at the backlit portion of the bar. The glass shelves boasted a number of vintages, all of them stored in potion bottles, their names scrawled by hand on their parchment labels. It might have been an amusing gimmick if I weren’t feeling so sullen.

  I just couldn’t believe the nerve of him! He’d turned me down? Me! I wasn’t sure if I should go back up to the room and hex him, or find a nice, quiet place to nurse my wounded pride. In nearly a century and a half, I’d only been turned down once, and of course it was by the one man who’d been pursuing me in the first place.

  “Stupid vampire with his stupid penis,” I muttered. “I should hex him.” But with what? “Boils.” No, something itchier. Maybe I’d turn him into that hairy dog man we’d been joking about earlier.

  Of course, I wouldn’t do it, no matter how satisfying it would feel in the moment.

  “I hope you’re not talking about me,” William said with a smile as he slid onto the barstool next to mine, propping his elbows on the counter as he looked over at me with one eyebrow arched in amusement.

  I swiveled to face him, giving the vampire a critical once over. He’d been set to guard our room until dawn and had fallen into step behind me when I left. He’d been hovering ever since, a silent and unobtrusive shadow. A couple of women had tried to proposition him in the interim, but he hadn’t even deigned to speak with them. They’d wandered off, offended by his aloof rebuff. Maybe breaking hearts was just a vampire pastime.

  “No, I’m talking about Lorcan,” I mumbled, finishing off the glass.

  I motioned for another and the bartender immediately delivered it.

  “Are you sure you should be drinking that much? What if you come across members of your former coven?”

  I hadn’t actually considered that, but dismissed it almost immediately.

  “Mother, Aunt Tabitha, and the others wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this. They’d think it was tacky, and give it a wide berth.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “And you don’t find this place tacky?”

  I shrugged. “I mean… alcohol is alcohol. It doesn’t matter if I’m drinking it out of an absurdly expensive bottle, or a discount Halloween decoration.” I took a sip before muttering to myself, “I just want to forget what happened.”

  “And what exactly happened?” William asked, leaning more heavily on the counter, as I cursed myself for forgetting vampires and their ability to hear a pin drop.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Obviously. I asked, didn’t I?”

  I frowned at him, wagging a finger in his face. I half-expected him to take a snap at it, but he seemed amused, rather than offended. He laid two gentle fingers on my wrist, steering my hand away from his face. He didn’t even linger over my pulse point, the way Lorcan would have. Maybe it was the bond between the pair of us that made my veins fascinating to Lorcan. Or maybe this guy just didn’t like me that way.

  I eyed him then as something occurred to me. “Do you think it’s possible to become spontaneously gay?”

  “What?”

  I shook my head as I waved my idiotic comment away and buried my mouth in the glass of wine.

  William gave me a toothy grin, which only succeeded in souring my mood. Maybe I’d have found it appealing another day. Or maybe not. I hadn’t been all that attracted to him downstairs, and I hadn’t been fuming then. For whatever reason, he held no appeal, despite being an objectively pretty face. I didn’t want to kiss him any more than I wanted to make out with Maverick. I could probably blame that on Lorcan, too. The closer we got, the less I wanted anyone else.

  Damn the prudish vampire to hell.

  “Sounds like the problem that brought you down here is one of the heart, Wandellmelia,” he said with elevated brows. He managed to roll my name off his tongue like he’d said it a million times before. And that was when I remembered I hadn’t given him or anyone else my full name.

  “How did you know,” I started, but he shushed me.

  “I make it my business to know.”

  “Oh.”

  William scanned the list of available cocktails and ordered a virgin bloody White Russian. Without the vodka and coffee liqueur, it was basically just blood and cream.

  “I’m not supposed to drink while on the job,” he explained with a shrug.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Too many people will want to see you dead or deposed, so I can’t allow myself to get properly drunk until we’ve all made it out the other side.” He eyed me with a knowing expression. “You can’t really afford it either. Now… are you going to stop self-medicating long enough to talk, or should I fling you over one shoulder and carry you back to your room?”

  At the idea of going back to see Lorcan, my blood turned cold. “I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours,” I said, sipping my glass of rosé.

  “Fair enough.” William’s lips pursed. “I’m bound by Celestine’s magic, so I can’t reveal everything about myself, but I’ll tell you what I can.”

  Bound by Mother’s magic. That alone told me just how serious their conflict had been. Putting a binding on someone to keep them from acting or speaking was difficult. I could spell a person’s tongue to speak the truth or spout obscenities if I was feeling spiteful. But wrapping a secret in magic and making someone completely unable to speak it... well, that was dark magic. Darker than Mother usually liked to go.

  I whistled. “Goddess, you must have pissed her off something fierce for her to resort to something like that.”

  His smile turned a touch bitter. “Oh, you have no idea.” He reached for his drink, taking another swig. “Now, what’s troubling you?”

  I shrugged and figured the direct route might be best in this case. “Lorcan is holding his penis hostage.”

  William choked and had to use one of the napkins on the bar top to stop himself from spewing blood cocktail everywhere.

  “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that,” he spluttered.

  “I can see that,” I laughed.

  “Can you, uh, explain?”

  “Sure,” I shrugged again. “I tried to come onto him, and he told me no. Me. Not once, in over a century have I ever been turned down by anyone. I mean, come on! What straight man says no to a naked woman quite literally on top of him, ready and willing to take him on the ride of his life?”

  “And now I immediately regret asking,” William said, scrubbing at his face to erase the bloody evidence. “This is not a problem I can or should help you with.”

  I sank down, laying my head on the bar top, eyeing my drink from below. “Thanks for being completely and totally useless.”

  We were quiet for a long moment.

  The loud, boisterous sounds of the bar filtered in to fill the silence.: the mad cackles of hags, or the bellow of an enraged troll who’d lost a game of darts. There was the faint chime of faerie magic from one corner, and the smell of singed hair from the other. I was betting a werewolf had gotten too close to the fire.

  “Do you know why he’s... erm... holding his dingle hostage?” William asked at last.

  I looked at him blankly. “What did you just call it?”

  “A dingle.”

  “That’s what I thought you called it.”

  “Right… well, the question remains the same.”

  I frowned. “He’s holding his… dingle hostage because he wanted to talk about feelings,” I grumbled. “Honestly... I was naked. That wasn’t the time to talk about feelings.”

  “His or yours?”

  “Mine. He’s made his perfectly clear from the start.”

  “And what are his?”

  I shrugged. “He loves me.”

  William took another sip and nodded sagely at me. Apparently, my answer made sense to him. Lovely. Now maybe he could explain the vampire logic in terms I’d understand.

  “What’s that look for?” I snapped.

  “I think I know what’s going on here.”

  “Well, at least one of us does.”

  He chuckled. “Witches aren’t especially… verbose or… affectionate, even with people they claim to love.”

  “So what?”

  “So… has it occurred to you that a comparatively loquacious vampire might need a little assurance before... erm... engaging in an act of sexual congress?”