Chapter 39
Raven
Ithrew my paperback novel on the floor, furious about the horrible cliffhanger. How dare the author finish her book like that!
Rasmus glanced up from the ancient leatherbound tome on vampire history he’d been reading and frowned. I’d attempted to read it over his shoulder the other day and promptly lapsed into a coma before the end of page two. Talk about dry as dust.
“What’s wrong, mea amica?”
I huffed and pouted. “My book ended on a cliff and now I have to wait two freaking months for the next one in the series!”
My vampire chuckled. “When you’ve lived for several centuries, two months is but a blink, darling, so you learn to be patient.”
Ugh. Not helpful. Fig trotted into the palatial living room and snorted at me. “Are you hungry?” He oinked, which I took to mean yes.
Kenji and the three Ks raised their heads at the same time and glowered at my pig.
“Let the pig out,” Kenji advised. “There’s a BBQ restaurant a block away. I bet they’d give it a good home.”
“Kenji!” He buried his head under his tails.
I fidgeted while wondering what to do next. Maverick was lifting weights, Kai was hydrating in the gigantic tub upstairs, and Zane had disappeared two hours ago after muttering about exercising Brenda. Whatever that meant. How did one exercise a sword? I hadn’t bothered asking.
Rasmus closed his book, sending a cloud of dust into the air.
“Go feed the pig, darling, and then it’s time I took you on a date, as I believe it’s called in modern parlance.”
“A date?” I frowned. “Isn’t it dangerous for us to be seen outside?” At least in this city, where millions of humans lived and worked.
“Not if I glamour us both.”
Despite the late hour, the streets teemed with humans and magicals. I spotted several witches, shifters, and a couple of mages. Each time we passed someone humming with magic, I ducked my head.
But to my relief, nobody looked twice at me or Rasmus thanks to the glamour spell he’d cast before we left. We resembled twenty-something hipsters. Or so Zane had declared when he blinked back to the mansion covered in blood and unpleasant fleshy chunks.
I’d asked him what hipsters were, and he’d explained they were trendy types who wore plaid and skinny jeans, while the guys sported beards and slick hair.
Looking around at the couples strolling up and down this busy plaza with its string lights and outdoor eateries, Rasmus, with his neatly trimmed beard, jeans, and plaid shirt, fit right in.
I felt less comfortable in my skinny jeans and band shirt teamed with a denim jacket, but Zane had assured me I looked sexy enough to eat. Which he’d tried to do, much to Rasmus’s annoyance.
We stopped outside a brightly lit store. When I peered in, I saw bookshelves and tables stacked with paperbacks, and to the right, a seating area and counter.
The sign above the door said Pages & Lattes in a cute script with a black cat logo. I beamed up at my sexy hipster vampire.
“You brought me to a bookshop for our date?”
“I thought you could choose some new books while drinking coffee.” He frowned for a moment. “Or maybe not coffee, given the late hour. I believe they offer other hot beverages as well.” He took my elbow and stepped toward the door just as a pair of college students barged past.
The taller of the two shoved me into Rasmus. He didn’t even apologize. What an asshole.
Rasmus growled under his breath, but when I grabbed his wrist, he settled.
“We can’t afford to cause a scene,” I reminded him. “I’m sure they’re just in a rush or something.” Both had murky green auras, which didn’t bode well, but I wasn’t about to let a pair of humans ruin my date.
“You’re right, my darling. Let me buy you a beverage, and then you can browse the book selection.”
Thank the goddess I’d come with my level-headed vampire instead of my hot-headed incubus. Zane would have eviscerated the humans and caused a riot.
A bell jingled merrily as we stepped inside the bookshop, and I smiled happily, already spotting at least two books I’d been wanting to read for a while.
I decided on a chai tea latte with a slice of coffee cake, while Rasmus ordered a black coffee for appearance’s sake.
After finding a table tucked away in the corner, we sat and chatted while I stuffed my face full of cake. Then, once I couldn’t eat another bite, I wandered off to browse the books.
Stacks of romances and mass-market fiction paperbacks filled the shelves on the ground floor, but upstairs, I discovered all kinds of random nonfiction books, from self-help delights such as How to Cure Your IBS to Deadly Herbs for the Discerning Witch.
I grabbed that last one in case it contained anything useful. Rasmus assured me he had plenty of cash and I was free to purchase any books I wanted.
The deeper into the reference rooms I wandered, the quieter it became. Faint chatter and music drifted up the narrow spiral staircase, but up here, it felt like a different world.
I ran my fingers down dusty spines and squinted at faded titles when I reached the occult section. Titles like A History of Summoning Spells and An Academic Analysis of the Demon Uprising of 1698 gave me pause.
Demon Uprising? I turned to ask Rasmus about it, but he’d vanished.
“Rasmus?” The uneven timber floor creaked under my feet as I passed through an archway into a turreted room with narrow shelves packed full of books. Rasmus stood reading a thin volume bound in rich red leather.
“Found something interesting?” I asked, peering around him. The light wasn’t great here, but I could make out the author’s name in gold script.
“You wrote this?” The Rise of the Dvorak Dynasty by Rasmus Dvorak.
“I did,” he agreed. “During the prohibition years, when the endless pursuit of blood and pleasure no longer appealed. I spent two years researching our family’s long and bloody history before publishing the manuscript via an agent.
” He smiled. “It didn’t sell many copies, but I enjoyed the process. ”
I snatched the book from his hands and added it to my pile. “I’d like to read it.”
“Darling,” he purred, pressing me back against a shelf. “If you want to know more about my family, you only have to ask.”
The muffled sounds from the coffee shop faded as I inhaled his rich scent. Sharp fangs grazed the soft skin below my ear, and then he licked the spot where he usually fed from me, sending a heated shudder through my body. The books in my hands tumbled to the floor with a thud.
“We should probably go,” I forced out, making no effort to move.
“Not yet, mea amica. I’m thirsty.”
“But this is a public place and we—” I didn’t get the chance to finish that sentence because my vampire claimed my mouth in a kiss so hot I lost the ability to form a coherent thought.
His hips locked me against the shelf. Dusty books wobbled as he rocked gently into me, rubbing me just so. I silently regretted not wearing a skirt, even though I rather liked my cool hipster jeans.
Rasmus’s cool fingers edged beneath my tee, finding my breasts with unerring accuracy. He rubbed my taut nipple through the lace of my bra, and I moaned. In a flash, Rasmus had blinked us across the small room to a table set under a leaded window.
He spun me around so I faced the glass and slipped his hand inside my jeans. The button and zipper opened so easily I wondered if magic was at play, but before I could ask, he dipped first one finger and then two inside me.
My low, tortured groan echoed around the small room when he punctured my neck with his fangs. A hot, pulsing wave of ecstasy shot through me like lightning. I spasmed around his fingers, the table the only thing holding me upright.
I wanted far more, but instead of fucking me, Rasmus spun me back around, grinning lasciviously as he licked his fingers clean.
“Delicious,” he purred.
I stared down at the obscene bulge tenting the front of his jeans. That had to be uncomfortable.
“Don’t you want to, um, let me take care of that for you?” It was good that my cheeks were already red. Talking dirty didn’t come naturally to me, despite my determination to be a badass witch.
Rasmus’s fingers curled around my neck. “No, my darling. I would rather not have to kill anyone who walked in on us. Not here.”
“Why not here?” Sure, a murder or two would make a mess of the books, but my vampire didn’t usually care about such things.
“Because this is one of my favorite places in the city. I’ve been visiting ever since it opened back in 1851.”
I looked around with new appreciation for the history of the building, noting for the first time the intricate detailing on the dark wood shelving and the antique brass lights.
“Has it always been a bookshop?” I reached for the books I’d dropped.
“No. It was once a salon where artists and writers met to exchange ideas. And later, it became a bar. In the 1920s, the vampire mobsters of the day opened a speakeasy in the cellar. My brethren and I spent many nights here, drinking and enjoying the company of human men and women.”
“Vampire mobsters?” Consider my mind officially blown. “Were you a mobster?”
Rasmus took my small pile of books and slipped an arm around my waist, herding me back toward the spiral staircase.
“No, darling. We Dvoraks are—were—royalty. But we enjoyed the fringe benefits of illicit drinking clubs of the time. Some of my ilk stalked the darker parts of the city for their blood sources, but I have always preferred feeding from beautiful men and women in more convivial surroundings.”
A sharp pang of jealousy slithered through my veins as I pictured my vampire with gorgeous people, all of them naked and writhing in his arms.
“No need to be jealous, my queen,” he murmured in my ear as we stepped back into the coffee shop.
“None of them meant anything to me. They were nothing more than passing fancies. A fleeting pleasurable moment. Nothing mattered before you, my sweet. You are the beginning, middle, and end of my existence.”
I swooned at his words before reaching up and planting a kiss on his cheek.
“I love you.”
He smiled. “And I love you too, my darling.”
After he’d paid for my eclectic collection of books, which included a vampire romance trilogy that had scored an impressive number of five-star reviews on Magizon, we stepped out through the door and back into the plaza.
The area was still busy, with couples and small groups of humans and magicals drifting between bars and restaurants. We strolled along, hand in hand, taking our sweet time.
I’d almost forgotten why both of us wore glamours to hide our identities until I overheard my name being discussed by two mages sitting at a table outside a busy bar.
“Vane says the Blackstone witch and her consorts are slated for execution once we track the psychos down,” one murmured before raising his glass to his mouth. The other mage shuddered.
“Not surprised. I saw the images from the crime scene. Fuck, it was bad.”
I stumbled over a loose paver in shock. Flames burst from my fingers, igniting a nearby tablecloth. The two mages leaped from their chairs with a shout, scanning the crowd for the perpetrator, a.k.a. me.
Rasmus shielded me from view, and we hurried away while the mages frantically extinguished the small fire with a jug of water. I guessed neither of them was especially powerful or had water magic. What a shame.
“Stay calm, mea amica. As soon as we’re out of sight, I’ll speed us back to the mansion.”
I did my best to heed his words, but all I could think about was that my diabolical father-in-law planned to execute me for something that wasn’t my fault, which would not have happened if he hadn’t taken me prisoner.
Goddess, save us all. If I died before my twentieth birthday, life would truly suck.