Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
MOIRA
Someone was in my house. I froze with my hand two inches from the doorknob and sent a tendril of magic through the crack at the bottom of the door, dropping it as soon as the scent of the intruder hit my nose.
I swore under my breath and unlocked my door.
“Ethan. Godsdammit. What did I tell you about breaking into my house?”
The Lord sat on my couch, looking smug as hell. He held up the paperback I'd been reading, a smuttastic novel about a woman on the run from magical assassins.
One of his eyebrows rose. “Lots of quivering members in this one.” He clicked his tongue. “This woman likes variety.”
I wanted to choke him. “Yes, well, variety is the spice of life.”
Ethan's lips twitched. “You like a lot of choices when it comes to members, Moira?”
I was a vampire hybrid hiding big secrets from everyone. What I liked was peace, quiet, and people minding their own business. I did not have time for any quivering members who wanted to linger.
I shrugged. “Depends on the quivering member.”
Ethan chuckled, the sound tightening every muscle in my body. He rarely laughed, and I felt inordinately pleased I could make him. It seemed like I made him laugh a lot, though the joke was usually at my expense.
“I'll remember that,” he said softly, those midnight eyes pinning me in place.
I tossed my keys onto the kitchen island. “Why are you here, Ethan? And how the hell did you get through Rowan's wards?”
“Rowan has given me a temporary pass.”
My eyebrows went up. Rowan wasn't the most trusting of Lords, and neither was Ethan.
This temporary alliance they had going on surprised me.
In fact, a lot about Ethan surprised me these days.
When I first met him, I thought he was an asshole.
He hadn't done much to change my mind, either, but everything had changed when I snuck into his territory.
I'd made a terrible mistake when I broke into his house all those months ago.
The moment I did that, I realized Ethan was much more than he seemed.
Every single one of the Lords was brutal and violent when they needed to be.
But Ethan had an entire life before, a life where he seemed to be a different person.
A life that held love and laughter.
Time and grief had damaged him. His temples were edged in silver, a color almost unheard of in an immortal, and the edges of his eyes held the faintest of creases, as if the Lord used to laugh all the time and the memory had imprinted onto his skin and never let go—the last stubborn vestiges of the life he had before he became the hard vicious thing to sit before me today.
Except, he wasn't that man. Not all the time. And not right now in the incandescent light of my living room, sprawled on my couch like the room belonged to him.
I could give him no quarter. Ethan barely tolerated me, yet he kept coming around. I wasn't stupid enough to think it was for my cookies. The Lord wanted something from me—something he hadn't yet gotten around to asking me.
“You haven't answered my second question.”
I shrugged off my jacket and slung it on the back of my recliner. “Do you want a martini?”
Ethan blinked. “Uh. What kind?”
“Whatever kind you want.” I opened one of the upper cabinets and waved my hand around like a bikini girl on a game show. “I collect every liquor known to man.”
Ethan frowned. “What kind are you having?”
“I made white chocolate macadamia cookies earlier. I thought I'd make a martini to match it.”
I hid my smile when I turned to see Ethan closing his eyes for a moment. The Lord had a serious sweet tooth and tried his best to hide it from me. I looked away before he spotted my attention.
“Sure,” he said after a moment. “Thank you.”
I turned my back to him and gathered the bottles I needed. “Do you want a couple of cookies, too?”
“Yes,” he said too quickly.
I grinned at the cabinet and reached over to turn the air fryer on. The cookies were excellent, if I did say so myself, but they were even better warmed and with crispy edges.
While he didn't move from his spot, Ethan still watched me intently as I made our drinks. When he saw me put on a pot holder and grab the cocktail shaker, he frowned. “What are you doing?”
“The shaker gets really cold and numbs my hand.” I confessed.
Sensitivity to the cold was a new and odd side effect of the magic exposure I'd received on Caelan's Keep.
Most of the time I was fine, but when the temperatures went too low, I had to bundle up or suffer the consequences.
Using the steel cocktail shaker with ice sent the temperature plummeting and my hand went numb when I used the thing now.
Ethan rose, his form smooth like water, and came over. He slid his hand over mine and extricated the shaker from my grip. Setting it down, he grasped my wrist and tugged the potholder off.
I stared up at him, entranced by how dark his eyes were and how godsdamn sexy he was. My heart thumped in my ribcage, and I knew the bastard could hear it, but I didn't care.
Ethan slid his fingers down my wrist, his touch burning a trail of fire down my skin. “I'll do it.”
He picked up the shaker and turned away like he hadn't just set my pants on fire.
I tucked my trembling fingers into my pockets. Asshole.
Twenty seconds later, Ethan poured the martinis into two chilled glasses and handed me one.
I had to admit. Having a shifter shake your cocktails sent the perfect amount of ice slivers into the drink and made it so damn cold my lips felt frozen after I took the first sip. I should trademark that idea and start a bar with only shifter bartenders. I'd call it The Tipsy Claw.
“How long?” Ethan demanded. He took a sip of the martini, blinked, and took another one. His brow furrowed.
“Good, right?”
Ethan grunted at my magical martinis. “How long have you experienced cold sensitivity?”
I shrugged. “A while now.”
Ethan's lips thinned. “Moira.”
“Since the night Evie killed Finn.”
Ethan swore. “Why haven't you said anything?”
The Lord had brought me cashmere on a cold night not too long ago. He cared in a strange way, or maybe he was just kind. Ethan was a puzzle where none of the pieces fit.
“Why would I?”
The air fryer dinged. Sliding past him, I grabbed the potholder and took out the cookies, tapping them with my finger to make sure they were the perfect consistency.
“Those smell amazing,” Ethan said grumpily.
I put four on a plate for him and slid them over.
Ethan looked at the cookies, then looked at my plate. “You only have two.”
“I only want two.” Sometimes I ate a lot, mostly when I used a lot of magic. I could always eat more than the average person, but I lived alone, and there was something unbearably sad about eating dinner with no one to share it with.
That adorable furrow in his brow wrinkled again. “You should eat more.”
“I had some cookies this morning,” I admitted.
Ethan hesitated to take one of the cookies.
“Eat. I'll have dinner later. This is a pre-dinner snack.”
Ethan gave me a long look but took one of the cookies. His teeth were white and straight, and the way he closed his eyes when that white chocolate hit his taste buds…
I had to look away.
He'd already eaten two by the time I finished one. On his third, I poured the rest of the martini mix into our glasses, making sure it was even.
“You still haven't answered my question.”
Ethan took a sip of his martini and watched me. “I want you to come to my territory for a little while.”
The cookie piece fell from my hand and clattered to the plate. “Excuse me?”
A small flash of a smile. “You heard me, Moira.”
I shook my head. “Why would I do that?”
He took a slow bite of his cookie. “I can think of a few reasons.”
Talking to him was like pulling teeth sometimes. “Such as?”
“You make excellent cookies, and I don't have a chef.”
My brows drew together. “You want me to bake for you?”
“You're intelligent and beautiful.”
I blinked like an owl. “That's not really a reason,” I choked.
Ethan shrugged. “It is to me.”
“No.” I shook my head slowly. “Those are adjectives.” Ohmygod ohmygod. He thinks I'm pretty.
Ethan let out a soft laugh. He adjusted and leaned against the island. “Point to you. Alright. You're struggling with your magic and lying to Evie about it.”
Every time I started to think the guy was sweet, he dropped a fucking bomb on my head. I stayed silent.
“I have a hybrid mage at my Keep,” Ethan said softly. “Someone who might be able to help you manage whatever is happening to you.”
My brain snagged on his words. I'd always had magic inside of me. Inherent power given to me by the vampire side, another strange vein of power given to me by what I thought was the fae—though I'd never been sure—and whatever else this was living in my veins that night of exposure.
The fae magic was warm and cozy, and I was convinced my baking and other similar skills were attributed to that power.
My vampire powers were all the normal things one of our kind could do.
I could run longer and faster than anyone I knew, even a shifter.
Super strength and agility came next, followed by the ability to mesmerize, a talent I never used unless my life was in danger.
But the other power—the one that allowed me to pull a god through dimensions, that was the one that scared the hell out of me.
I shoved a bite of cookie in my mouth and chewed while I thought of a response. The bastard knew I was tempted by his offer. I could see it in his eyes.
“And I could use your help.”
Okay. Hell had officially frozen over. My first instinct was to feel flattered. My second was suspicion. “You're a Shifter Lord. You have access to more assets and information than I could ever dream of. What could I do that you can't do twice as well or four times as fast?”
Ethan's eyes flickered. “People like you.”
I tilted my head. “I'm not sure that's true. People like Evie. They're a little frightened of me.”
Ethan shook his head. “Disagree. Evie is likable, but most people are afraid of her on a cellular level. People, especially shifters, sense her otherness.”
“And they don't sense that about me?”
Ethan's eyes slid over to the tin of cookies.
Without asking, I slid the tin over and put three more cookies on his plate.
His eyes lit up. “Your scent is mostly vampire. You work with herbs and spices and flowers almost all day, and you have for years. Those things entwine in your scent and hide things.” A faint smile. “Though I suspect you know that.”
I did. Frigging Ethan. “I like tea. And flowers. Sue me.”
“Keep your secrets,” he said with a shrug. “As long as they are not harmful to me or Rowan, I will never pry.”
“Regardless, you are more familiar to them than Evie. People talk to you. They trust you.”
“They don't trust you?”
“Like Evie, I'm afraid most people sense my otherness.”
“What otherness?” I sensed something different about him, but I thought it was because of what he'd been through. Much like my herbs and flowers and tea, grief could entangle itself into one's scent for all time.
“If I let you keep your secrets, you will allow me mine.”
His tone brooked no argument. “Fine, but I still don't understand how I could help you with anything.”
His jaw tightened. “Things are happening in my territory. Unexplainable things. Shifters are coming up missing. I need someone to quietly investigate what's happening so I can fix this.”
I shook my head. “What in the world makes you think I'm even a little qualified for investigative work?”
This was madness. A bad feeling crept into my gut. “Ethan. I work in a flower shop.”
He polished off his last cookie. “Mmm. Yes, you do. But you haven't always worked in one, have you?”
The past slammed into me like a train—memories I'd long buried rising toward the surface and scarring my heart all over again. No. I wouldn't, couldn't do this again. I set my martini glass down and straightened. “Get out of my house, Ethan Flint.”
The Lord ignored me. Ethan crossed his arms and watched me. “You'll receive a handsome salary.”
I scoffed. “What the fuck does a vampire need with a salary? Any vamp worth their salt has enough money saved to retire a hundred times over.”
His expression didn't change. “True. But you'll also receive protection.”
I laughed. “Again, what the fuck does a vampire need with protection? We're made weapons.”
“You underestimate my ability to gather intel. Your new magic has garnered interest among some unsavory characters.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“They're interested in how that magic of yours morphed.” This time, his smile held an edge of sympathy. “And they want to take it from you. By any means necessary.”
Inside my head, I was screaming.