“First ‘dingle’ and now ‘sexual congress’? What era were you born in?”

  “I’m trying to be delicate with the subject matter.”

  “Well, you chose the wrong woman to be delicate with. I’m anything but. So, drop the ‘sexual congress’ crap and just call it what it is: banging, tapping ass, bam-bam in the ham, shagging, nailing, boning, sending out for sushi, boinking, porking, yentzing, buttering the biscuit, or tossing a hot dog down the hallway.”

  He looked at me for a second or two like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “Wow, that is quite the exhaustive list.”

  “So… what’s your advice?”

  “My advice is to… well, talk to him like he asked.”

  “Ugh, that advice sucks.”

  “Wanda,” William continued, smiling as I drowned the remnants of my glass and ordered another. “He probably wants to hear that you love him, too.”

  “Well, I just... I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  My eyes itched, a precursor to tears. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. I was not going to go to pieces in front of my vampire bodyguard, especially not after the highly bizarre conversation we’d had thus far. I didn’t have a lot of dignity left to salvage, but I could at least try to keep it together in front of Guy’s men. They, no doubt, already thought I was one screw loose.

  “Because… I don’t know… if I do,” I whispered, throat tight.

  “Hmm.”

  “I mean,” I started, not wanting him to get the wrong idea about my feelings for Lorcan. “I want to believe what I’m feeling is genuine, but I just don’t know. I mean… the feelings could be real or they could be just… just the blood bond pushing us toward an inevitable and fatal conclusion.”

  “And yet you still want to be with him, knowing it could all be a trick of biology?”

  I smiled faintly. “Isn’t that what love is in the first place? A trick of biology? Chemicals, environment, and circumstance coming together to create a strong tie, simply by happenstance? Maybe we won’t feel this way about each other after the blood bond gets broken or if it gets broken, but I know I’d want him to be my friend, at the very least.”

  “Your friend?” he asked dubiously.

  I nodded. “You don’t know him. He’s fought so hard to keep my heart beating. He had the chance to turn me when Genevieve tore into my throat. I even told him it was okay at the time, but he wouldn’t do it. He’s even arranged for our local sasquatch to kill him if it ever looks like he’s going to hurt me.”

  “I can’t stand those hairy beasts. Stinky bloody things.”

  “You and Lorcan both, although… I believe Lorcan and Roy have a love-hate relationship.” My throat tightened again, and I had to down the rest of my drink before I could continue. The thought of my irritating vampire dead-dead was just… too much. I couldn’t think of it for long without wanting to hurt something.

  “He says magic is a part of me, that I look peaceful when I talk about or practice it,” I continued, figuring I was drunk which was why I was suffering such diarrhea of the mouth and with someone who probably didn’t give two shits. “Lorcan says he’s robbed me of enough in my life already, and he refuses to take my magic… which is exactly what would happen if he completed the transition.”

  William cocked his head to the side. “He sounds like a good man,” he said, and there was an undercurrent of wistfulness in his voice that I didn’t understand.

  “Right…” I turned to face him. “Your turn. What did you do to get on Mother’s shit list?”

  “She took something from me,” he answered and his lips were tight, angry. “From all of the men in my clan, really, and now she’s stolen the same from Scarlett. We’ve been a constant thorn in her side in the decades since, but we can’t take her down—because we can’t actually even tell the whole sordid story.”

  “Courtesy of Mother’s spell that keeps you from telling the truth?”

  “Right.” He sighed. “Scarlett can’t tell it, either. Your mother targeted her when she was much younger, and unable to defend herself. That’s why we need your coven.”

  “What’s why?”

  “The truth that needs to be told. It can only be done here, with the eyes of every witch watching. If you can reveal what your mother’s done, you can put a stop to all of it.”

  “So… that’s super vague and makes no sense and do I need to remind you that I’m drunk which means it makes even less sense?”

  William laughed and stood, offering me a hand. He slid a hundred onto the bar top and told the bartender to keep the change.

  “I could have gotten my own tab,” I said.

  “I know, but consider it a down payment.”

  “A down payment for what?”

  “You need to discover your mother’s secret, Wanda. It impacts you too.”

  “And where would I even start?”

  He looked thoughtful, and then said, “Stay near your warlock. I guarantee someone will come for him before the weekend is over. If you can capture the bastards who try to do the deed, you can squeeze the truth from them.”

  A weekend stuck to Maverick’s side—I could think of nothing I’d like less. “Ugh. That sounds like a nightmare come true.” I turned for the escalator.

  “And, one other thing: you should tell your vampire the truth, Wanda,” William said. “He should know what you’re feeling, even if it does fade someday.” He took a breath. “The point is—you feel what you feel now. And so does he, regardless of the blood bond.”

  Look Lorcan in the eye and repeat my mortifying, half-drunk confession? Suddenly, a weekend with Maverick sounded a whole lot better.

  Chapter Twelve

  When I woke, my head was pounding, my mouth tasted like cotton, and I could feel my pulse somewhere around the back of my throat.

  The clanging of the wind-up alarm clock wasn’t helping matters. There must have been something more than alcohol in the Rosé, and I’d overlooked it in my haste to drown last night’s disappointment. I’d have to consult Poppy about a potion to do away with this witch of a headache.

  The alarm clock continued to let out a thought-rending claxon as it bounced and skittered on the nightstand. It was going to fall off the side if it kept up. I helped it along with a blasting hex, tossing the damn thing across the room. It came to a stop on top of my discarded clothes and mercifully went silent. I considered just rolling over and going back to sleep in the hopes the headache would clear by the time I woke. But a clipped baritone sounded near my ear.

  “You’re lucky that landed in your clothes. I imagine the Sanctuary would have charged you for the repairs if the clock had gone through the wall.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed and flipped onto my stomach, burying my face in my pillow. Lorcan. Of course, it was Lorcan.

  “What are you doing up?” I groaned and made a face as I realized it tasted like a dog with stomach flu had just shat in my mouth. “The alarm says it’s eight in the morning.”

  “I’m surprised you could read the time before you launched the thing across the room,” he said. There was more of a brogue to his words than ever before, or maybe I was just that hung over. After so many years in the Americas, Lorcan had all but lost his original accent, but it came out sometimes—apparently times when I wanted to sleep in and hide from the rest of the world.

  “You didn’t stay up waiting for me, did you?” I asked, quickly hexing the sick dog from my mouth with a burst of fresh mint. I might not have been happy to see Lorcan, but that didn’t mean he deserved to die a second death owing to my morning breath.

  “Of course not. After you so rudely marched out, I went to sleep. I woke briefly when you stumbled in and threw yourself onto the bed opposite mine. What actually woke me was a knock at the door near dawn.”

  “A knock?”

  “Aye,” he answered. “That arsehole William came to deliver an itinerary, a note addressed to you, and a handful of pills.”

  That got my attention, and I dared to lift my head a fraction. I immediately regretted it when light through a gap in the curtains stabbed into my eyes. I made an inarticulate sound of pain and buried my face in the pillow once more.

  “What did the note say?” I asked.

  “Why would you suppose I—” he started.

  “Because you’re a nosy bastard, so I know you read it.”

  At least the visit and the note explained why Lorcan was so moody this morning. Ordinarily I’d have put it down to the early hour. Vampires, by their nature, were not morning people. Not that I could blame them.

  I heard the crinkling sound of paper as Lorcan unfolded the letter. Owing to the sound, I figured he’d balled it up and launched it in the trash sometime during my repose. He cleared his throat and read aloud, trying to imitate William’s New England accent.

  “I wasn’t sure if Scarlett had included a paid tour of this place, so our clan has provided one. And, regarding our conversation earlier, don’t fret about the expense. Your tab was a down payment as I mentioned. You’ll earn it and then some by doing your part with Celestine. I thought you and yours should get a chance to appreciate what Sub Rosa has to offer before your run-in with your former coven this evening. Looking forward to seeing what you accomplish.

  Cheers,

  William D. Dwimmer

  P.S. I’ve included tablets for your hangover. The Brewery does have a disclaimer posted near the door, but people hardly ever read it. Since most clients have a high tolerance for alcohol, there’s a compound in every drink to negate that high tolerance. These tablets should counteract the effects. Take one every two hours, and by evening you’ll be good as new.

  P.P.S I enjoyed speaking with you. We should talk more.

  I sat up, biting back a sound of protest when the light tried to gouge my eyeballs once more. If I squinted, I could make out a bottle of water and the tablets William mentioned. I seized the bottle and the first pill, downing both immediately. The water did wonders for the cotton mouth, and the pill went to work as soon as it hit my stomach. The sound I made when the ferocity of the headache cleared was almost indecent.

  When I blinked, I found I could finally stand the light (which Lorcan was doing a good job of avoiding), and got my first real look at the room. I’d apparently knocked over my suitcase when I’d stumbled into the room the evening before. Clothing and toiletries were strewn across the floor. I must have been hammered because the thought of letting clothes become wrinkled would normally give me heart palpitations. I’d need to hang them and employ a very subtle anti-wrinkle charm to each. But later. For now, I was still in recovery.

  Lorcan was sitting on the bed opposite mine, clad only in his boxers. He was glowering at me, but even so, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was muscled perfection, and I wanted to run my fingers through his mussed hair. I’d been driven mad with lust once before when Rupert and his people had summoned a demon and spurred Lorcan’s and my attraction to one another to new heights. This didn’t feel the same. This was gradual, a heat that began somewhere near my navel and spread, making my chest ache and my knees shake.

  Lorcan waved the scrap of paper at me. “You left and then... what? Had a drink with Arsehole Will?”

  “Right.”

  He didn’t seem to like that one bit. “So, you’d talk with Arsehole Will then, but not me?”

  I groaned and scrubbed my eyes. I was too tired to have this conversation, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to give it a rest. Probably a case of the post-dawn crankies.

  “Stop calling him that. He’s not an asshole.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I know better than you do! You’ve barely spoken two words with him.”

  “There are two questions for which I’m requesting an answer.”

  “Okay, there are two questions for which I might give you said answer,” I replied, rubbing my head because the ache hadn’t fully dissolved, or maybe that was just Lorcan. “First, though, I need to know what the questions are.”

  “How is it that Arsehole Will ended up drinking with you last night and is there more I should know about?”

  “No.”’

  “No, there isn’t more, or no, I shouldn’t know about it?”

  “No, to both. And I didn’t invite him to drink with me. He followed me as my bodyguard and basically imposed his company on me. And, finally, stop calling him ‘arsehole’.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s rude, that’s why?”

  “No,” he shook his head. “Why did he impose himself on you as your bodyguard?”

  I shrugged. “He wanted to know why I was so intent on getting drunk.”

  “And that’s what you talked about?”

  “That’s what we talked about.”

  “What, exactly?”

  “Oh, my goddess,” I said as I shook my head and then held it in either of my hands. “You are so freaking annoying.”

  “Don’t avoid the question.”

  “Ugh, we talked about Mother, mostly. Apparently, they weren’t kidding about the revenge scheme. Whatever Celestine did to them had to have been bad, because she put a binding on them. A real one.”

  His brows knitted together, but he didn’t stop frowning at me.

  “I hesitate to ask, but what constitutes a ‘real’ binding?”

  I sighed. “Do you remember what I did in your apartment when I thought you’d stolen my fabrics?”

  “Of course,” he said dryly. “You wrapped a magical rattlesnake around my throat and then slipped your fingers into my waistband. It’s not the sort of thing a man forgets. Talk about mixed signals…”

  I fought not to blush. I’d been trying to threaten him by hinting I’d have the snake bite off his tender bits… or his ‘dingle’ as William had called it. Now I was wishing I’d slipped my hand inside those trousers and gone exploring. Lorcan hadn’t been shy about how much he enjoyed having me near him or how much he wanted me. It would have been a little like bondage, albeit with a reptile in place of rope.

  “I think you’re forgetting the part where I bespelled you to tell only the truth.”

  “Ah, that was why I blurted how much…”

  “You’d like to be inside me, right,” I finished for him. “Shame that didn’t last.”

  His eyes burned with a mixture of frustration and desire, and I clamped my legs shut. That look wasn’t doing anything for me… No sir. Not at all.

  “You think I don’t want to be between your legs right now, sweetling?” he demanded, voice low and accent thicker than ever. His eyes were narrowed and a moment later, he started scenting the air. “Especially when your desire is thick in the ether?”

  “I don’t know what to think.”

  “Well, perhaps I should inform you that I want nothing more than to take you to the mattress and kiss every inch of you. I want to make you climax so hard, they’ll hear you screaming on the top floors of this building.”

  “If that’s the case, then why—”

  “I won’t, because I know sex doesn’t mean the same thing to you as it does to me.”

  “You don’t know a damn thing,” I said before I could stop myself, and Lorcan’s eyes widened slightly to show his surprise.

  I bit my tongue before I could say anything else. Stupid and counterproductive as it was, I just couldn’t say the words I knew he wanted to hear. I just… I was a witch and emotions weren’t easy for me. They never had been. It was hard enough dealing with Poppy and her constant good-natured friendship, but now to have to try to play the part of girlfriend? It was just… it was too much.

  Regardless, this whole situation with Lorcan was going to end in one of two ways—either we’d break the blood bond, and Lorcan’s obsessive need to be near me would end, or I’d become a vampire. Either way, his desire for me would come to a finite conclusion. And once that happened, who knew where that left me and us. For all I knew, Lorcan could decide he wanted to return to his old ways, flirting with and seducing every woman in sight. I didn’t think I could stand it if he turned into a womanizer again. If I became a plain old witch again, I’d feel cheated. If I ended up a vampire... well, forever is a long time to deal with heartache.

  Lorcan and I stared at each other for a long time. If he thought he was going to pressure the words out of me, he was sorely mistaken. He broke first, crossing his arms sullenly over his chest.

  “So, what does the snake incident have to do with any of this?”

  “It’s a type of binding,” I explained. “The binding is very mild, and it doesn’t last. Making someone speak only the truth, speak in riddles, or only shout obscenities are other mild bindings. The difference between what I did to you and what Mother did to William is huge. What she did was essentially wrapping her magic around a secret and making the person in question physically unable to express it.”

  “So, Arsehole Will can’t—”

  “He can’t speak her secret, write it down, do charades about it. Nothing. The binding is an imposition on his will that’s almost unheard of. It’s very… dark magic. Whatever Mother’s hiding, it’s something big and potentially horrific. Something William thinks is going to completely upend her power if it’s ever revealed. And I think he might be right. Not only that, but Scarlett was also targeted and bound by Mother, which means Celestine’s not only willing to bind an enemy but also one of her own kind—a witch. She’s bound someone who should have been considered an ally.”

  “That was the only thing you both talked about?”

  His jealousy really knew no bounds. I frowned. “No, I forgot to mention the part where I professed my undying love for him,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And then he pushed me against the wall like one of those bodice ripper romance novels and pleasured the apex of my thighs for three days straight.”

  “Not funny.”

  I laughed because it was pretty funny. “Are you really that jealous? I just met him, Lorcan. I’m not even entirely sure he’s into women.”

  “And why would you think that?” he asked, clearly disbelieving it.