traversing in the daylight. A driver? Dark glasses and a hood? Go on. The spell doesn’t bind you to my home.”
“Spell or not, I am bound to you with this.” He pressed a hand over his heart. It had been a long time since he’d spoken words like this—and meant them.
“Oh, for freakin’ sake!” She charged past him, peeling her T-shirt over her head as she did so. As she wore no bra underneath, Nikolaus stepped from the stool to go after her for further investigation. “Don’t be here when I get out of the shower. I wasn’t lying about having a stake in the bathroom, and I will use it.”
Glancing toward the windows, he noted the slash of sunlight that beamed in around the edges where the vinyl shades had curved back from age. He did have a driver who was on twenty-four-hour call. Leaving wasn’t the issue.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, witch,” Nikolaus called to her retreating back.
Part of him knew the truth—they were enemies. He should not be here.
But a bigger part of him made Nikolaus walk over to the couch. Putting up his feet, he laid his head back and made himself at home.
Chapter 8
W as there anything worse than having a vampire in love with you?
Having a vampire sit on your couch and declare his love in sappy sweetness?
Yes, that was worse.
But he would rage when the spell was lifted. To be tricked into feeling love for his natural enemy? By the very witch who had once killed him?
Ravin closed her eyes and bowed her head. Water beat upon her shoulders and neck. The bite wound didn’t hurt anymore. But it pulsed, reminding her of her stupidity.
She had been bitten by a vampire before last night—many times. And despite the movies and books that would have one believe a vampire bite a sensual experience, it hurt like hell.
But this was the first time the biter had lasted longer than thirty seconds after sinking his teeth into her vein. There was a reason vamps called witch’s blood the death cocktail.
So how to kill a vamp immune to her blood? That was the only option—a mercy killing. It was a hell of a lot more humane than allowing him to suffer under a love spell.
Would Drake be immune to another witch’s blood? Hmm…
Ravin had only lived in Minneapolis six months; she hadn’t encountered another witch, though she hadn’t gone looking for any, either. Like vampires, her kind were in the minority.
Certainly a stake should do the job nicely. Shove it in between a couple of ribs, twist and tear, and rip his heart open. If the vampire’s heart could be torn beyond repair, he would die.
Though, she wasn’t up on phoenix lore. He’d come back from ash? That was too incredible. Could the vampire take a stake and remain standing? And yet, he was obviously not at full strength for the glimpse of scar she’d seen on his neck.
The idiot was enamored, blubbering about love and dismayed over the harm he’d done her. How sneaky would it be to take him out as he declared his undying love for her? To maybe let him kiss her…while she held the stake ready behind her back?
Sneaky, but effective. He would never see it coming.
Who was she, if not a hunter who never allowed her prey rest?
Ravin soaped up her hair, kicking herself for leaving the vampire alone in her living room while she skipped off to get naked. In the same house? Was she stupid?
Obviously. Though, there was the dead bolt inside the bathroom door, and the Charlie bar, and the silver cross tipped with her blood. She took security very seriously. As well, a gun and an arsenal of blood bullets and stakes were fitted in the cabinet behind the towel rack.
She never welcomed anyone lightly into her home. Even her friends. In her line of work, it didn’t pay to have a lot of friends. In two centuries she could count on the fingers of one hand the faithful friends she had garnered—friends she would trust with her life.
Even those she did trust were never left alone. There were things in her home they
“Spell or not, I am bound to you with this.” He pressed a hand over his heart. It had been a long time since he’d spoken words like this—and meant them.
“Oh, for freakin’ sake!” She charged past him, peeling her T-shirt over her head as she did so. As she wore no bra underneath, Nikolaus stepped from the stool to go after her for further investigation. “Don’t be here when I get out of the shower. I wasn’t lying about having a stake in the bathroom, and I will use it.”
Glancing toward the windows, he noted the slash of sunlight that beamed in around the edges where the vinyl shades had curved back from age. He did have a driver who was on twenty-four-hour call. Leaving wasn’t the issue.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, witch,” Nikolaus called to her retreating back.
Part of him knew the truth—they were enemies. He should not be here.
But a bigger part of him made Nikolaus walk over to the couch. Putting up his feet, he laid his head back and made himself at home.
Chapter 8
W as there anything worse than having a vampire in love with you?
Having a vampire sit on your couch and declare his love in sappy sweetness?
Yes, that was worse.
But he would rage when the spell was lifted. To be tricked into feeling love for his natural enemy? By the very witch who had once killed him?
Ravin closed her eyes and bowed her head. Water beat upon her shoulders and neck. The bite wound didn’t hurt anymore. But it pulsed, reminding her of her stupidity.
She had been bitten by a vampire before last night—many times. And despite the movies and books that would have one believe a vampire bite a sensual experience, it hurt like hell.
But this was the first time the biter had lasted longer than thirty seconds after sinking his teeth into her vein. There was a reason vamps called witch’s blood the death cocktail.
So how to kill a vamp immune to her blood? That was the only option—a mercy killing. It was a hell of a lot more humane than allowing him to suffer under a love spell.
Would Drake be immune to another witch’s blood? Hmm…
Ravin had only lived in Minneapolis six months; she hadn’t encountered another witch, though she hadn’t gone looking for any, either. Like vampires, her kind were in the minority.
Certainly a stake should do the job nicely. Shove it in between a couple of ribs, twist and tear, and rip his heart open. If the vampire’s heart could be torn beyond repair, he would die.
Though, she wasn’t up on phoenix lore. He’d come back from ash? That was too incredible. Could the vampire take a stake and remain standing? And yet, he was obviously not at full strength for the glimpse of scar she’d seen on his neck.
The idiot was enamored, blubbering about love and dismayed over the harm he’d done her. How sneaky would it be to take him out as he declared his undying love for her? To maybe let him kiss her…while she held the stake ready behind her back?
Sneaky, but effective. He would never see it coming.
Who was she, if not a hunter who never allowed her prey rest?
Ravin soaped up her hair, kicking herself for leaving the vampire alone in her living room while she skipped off to get naked. In the same house? Was she stupid?
Obviously. Though, there was the dead bolt inside the bathroom door, and the Charlie bar, and the silver cross tipped with her blood. She took security very seriously. As well, a gun and an arsenal of blood bullets and stakes were fitted in the cabinet behind the towel rack.
She never welcomed anyone lightly into her home. Even her friends. In her line of work, it didn’t pay to have a lot of friends. In two centuries she could count on the fingers of one hand the faithful friends she had garnered—friends she would trust with her life.
Even those she did trust were never left alone. There were things in her home they
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