dripping with sarcasm. “What now?”
He assessed her, his gaze growing concerned. “What happened to you?”
“Not a damn thing.”
“Uh, huh. Are you drunk?”
“I am not fucking drunk. Vampires don’t get drunk.”
“Unless they’re drinking substances provided by dragons,” he replied with a smirk.
And she realized her words had been slurred. “This is great. A party of hellish proportions.”
“Interesting,” he murmured. “I didn’t think you knew how to cuss.”
“I don’t use those crass words, especially not in public.” She lifted her chin sharply, and the world spun.
Damn. She’d only had a few sips of the last drink. As the night wore on, their hosts must have increased the amount of whatever herbs they’d been lacing the drinks with.
“I think home is the best place for you right now. There’s nothing else to do here,” Eric said.
She realized he’d taken her arm and began leading her to the front door some time ago. “Son of a bitch,” she said. “Our only damn lead is gone. Poof, up in smoke. Drifted away. Just like everyone else. Disappeared and gone.”
“We’ll figure it out.” He drew her outside. The snow had stopped. Anything stuck to the ground was now melted.
As they reached his SUV, Cat’s knees wobbled and she stumbled. He grabbed her around the waist, bringing her tight against his chest.
She couldn’t breathe as desire swept through her.
Seeming to read her mind, he abruptly set her back on her feet and opened the passenger door. She got in, feeling cold, bereft from the loss of his touch, which didn’t make sense. Sure he was hot, but it wasn’t like she was deprived and ready to jump the first good-looking man that walked by. Besides, she reminded herself, he was an archaic ass.
He slid into the driver’s seat and slammed his door shut. “An archaic ass, huh?”
Heat suffused her cheeks as she realized she’d said it out loud.
Chapter Seven
C at woke abruptly, in her own comfortable bed, but with a shrill ringing reverberating in her head. She sat up and her headache throbbed harder, but she realized the ringing was her cell phone. She answered it with a soft, “Hello?”
“We need to talk,” a deep voice stated.
She blinked against the dim light coming in through the curtained windows on the other side of the room. “Who is this?”
“Cat?” he asked cautiously, and she recognized him.
“Blake. What is it?”
“Need your help. We’ll be at the plantation in twenty.”
The line went dead. She stared at the silent phone for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. And realized the pounding in her head was a hangover, for goodness sakes.
Hung over. Her .
And she only had twenty minutes to get ready.
She jumped out of bed, then clutched her head at the pain her quick movement caused. The scent of blood drifted to her, along with Eric’s unique musky scent, a second before a knock came at her door. Without waiting for an answer, he strode in, carrying a mug.
He gently pushed her to sit on the edge of the bed, then silently handed her the cup. Gratefully, she drank it down.
Head clearing, the pain fading, she glanced at him. “Thank you.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. Company will be here in...” she glanced at the clock, then stood up, “...fifteen minutes.”
After shooing him from her room, she grabbed a quick shower, then headed downstairs.
Eric sat in the parlor, studying a laptop screen. As she entered, he asked, “Private meeting?”
“Blake.”
“Hmm.” He managed to infuse the simple sound with a ton of undecipherable meaning.
Before she could ask exactly what he meant by it, the doorbell rang. She hurried to open the door, only to be confronted by Blake and a second guard, Sam, dragging a bloody body.
“What the—”
Blake glanced up, his eyes glazed with near-panic. “You still have all the healing supplies in the basement?”
“Yes, but—”
They pushed past her, heading
He assessed her, his gaze growing concerned. “What happened to you?”
“Not a damn thing.”
“Uh, huh. Are you drunk?”
“I am not fucking drunk. Vampires don’t get drunk.”
“Unless they’re drinking substances provided by dragons,” he replied with a smirk.
And she realized her words had been slurred. “This is great. A party of hellish proportions.”
“Interesting,” he murmured. “I didn’t think you knew how to cuss.”
“I don’t use those crass words, especially not in public.” She lifted her chin sharply, and the world spun.
Damn. She’d only had a few sips of the last drink. As the night wore on, their hosts must have increased the amount of whatever herbs they’d been lacing the drinks with.
“I think home is the best place for you right now. There’s nothing else to do here,” Eric said.
She realized he’d taken her arm and began leading her to the front door some time ago. “Son of a bitch,” she said. “Our only damn lead is gone. Poof, up in smoke. Drifted away. Just like everyone else. Disappeared and gone.”
“We’ll figure it out.” He drew her outside. The snow had stopped. Anything stuck to the ground was now melted.
As they reached his SUV, Cat’s knees wobbled and she stumbled. He grabbed her around the waist, bringing her tight against his chest.
She couldn’t breathe as desire swept through her.
Seeming to read her mind, he abruptly set her back on her feet and opened the passenger door. She got in, feeling cold, bereft from the loss of his touch, which didn’t make sense. Sure he was hot, but it wasn’t like she was deprived and ready to jump the first good-looking man that walked by. Besides, she reminded herself, he was an archaic ass.
He slid into the driver’s seat and slammed his door shut. “An archaic ass, huh?”
Heat suffused her cheeks as she realized she’d said it out loud.
Chapter Seven
C at woke abruptly, in her own comfortable bed, but with a shrill ringing reverberating in her head. She sat up and her headache throbbed harder, but she realized the ringing was her cell phone. She answered it with a soft, “Hello?”
“We need to talk,” a deep voice stated.
She blinked against the dim light coming in through the curtained windows on the other side of the room. “Who is this?”
“Cat?” he asked cautiously, and she recognized him.
“Blake. What is it?”
“Need your help. We’ll be at the plantation in twenty.”
The line went dead. She stared at the silent phone for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. And realized the pounding in her head was a hangover, for goodness sakes.
Hung over. Her .
And she only had twenty minutes to get ready.
She jumped out of bed, then clutched her head at the pain her quick movement caused. The scent of blood drifted to her, along with Eric’s unique musky scent, a second before a knock came at her door. Without waiting for an answer, he strode in, carrying a mug.
He gently pushed her to sit on the edge of the bed, then silently handed her the cup. Gratefully, she drank it down.
Head clearing, the pain fading, she glanced at him. “Thank you.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. Company will be here in...” she glanced at the clock, then stood up, “...fifteen minutes.”
After shooing him from her room, she grabbed a quick shower, then headed downstairs.
Eric sat in the parlor, studying a laptop screen. As she entered, he asked, “Private meeting?”
“Blake.”
“Hmm.” He managed to infuse the simple sound with a ton of undecipherable meaning.
Before she could ask exactly what he meant by it, the doorbell rang. She hurried to open the door, only to be confronted by Blake and a second guard, Sam, dragging a bloody body.
“What the—”
Blake glanced up, his eyes glazed with near-panic. “You still have all the healing supplies in the basement?”
“Yes, but—”
They pushed past her, heading
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