A Taste of Blood and Sugar

Chapter 1 Dine and Dash

Dine and Dash

Sadie

He wasn’t the guy I was there to meet. According to my supernatural dating app, I was supposed to be looking for a blond werewolf named Buck. It was early, the sun barely set, but I’d been busy with job interviews the last few days and hadn’t fed at all.

All work and no blood makes Sadie a grumpy vampire.

But even my aching veins couldn’t dampen my mood. Smiling, I ran my fingers over my phone’s screen, tapping my pink manicure against the glass. The email saying I was hired glowed on the display, along with my reply of enthusiastic acceptance.

I was officially employed, and I was going to get a good meal. Things were finally looking up!

Buck wasn’t here yet. I’d been to this bar a few times since arriving in Pumpkin Hollow. It was dark, with heavy wood paneling and towering shelves behind the bar filled with bottles of various sizes and colors. They served beer in angular flagons and squat, golden candles glowed at each table.

This town really went all-out with the Halloween theme. It made sense, considering the population.

After I was turned, a half-fae friend told me about supernatural-friendly towns where most or all of the residents were some type of shifter, vampire, ghost, etc. Moving here was my second chance—a place where I could build a new life without fear of being found out and hunted by clueless humans.

Here, I could smile and no one batted an eyelash at my fangs.

My teeth ran over the points. It’d been six months, and they still felt strange in my mouth, but I didn’t hate them anymore. In fact, they were almost cute.

“Want anything, honey?” the bartender asked. Tapered ears peeked out from her cinnamon curls, but I wasn’t sure if she was fae or something else. This was all so new to me still.

“Just water, please,” I said. I was so grateful she was understanding and didn’t give me a hard time for not ordering alcohol.

When she slid a glass of ice water across the bartop, I handed her a couple of dollars in tip. I would run out of cash soon, but I had a job now, so it would be okay. Light, bubbly relief filled my chest, radiating out until my fingers tingled with it. I was going to be fine.

Condensation gathered on the glass, cold against my skin as I picked it up and sipped.

The bartender moved to the far end of the bar where a couple of guys were drinking and talking. The one with the mustache paid his bill and then slapped his friend on the back before leaving.

His friend rested his elbow on the bar and took a swig of his remaining drink.

His messy hair, an inhuman shade of purple-red, fell across thick brows over warm, dark eyes.

My gaze traced over his straight nose and lips—the bottom one fuller than the top.

Stubble shaded his sharp jaw, the maroon tone contrasting with his tan skin.

My mouth went dry. He was painfully handsome.

Glass broke and I jerked in my seat, twisting to eye the bartender. She glared down at the shattered mug on the polished wood floor. With a grimace, she reached for the broom in the corner.

The man said something to her, too quiet for me to hear, and she smiled. He raised his hand, muttering a few words. The glass repaired itself, now sitting in a puddle of spilled cider.

Magic.

He was a witch.

“Thanks,” the bartender said, giving him a grateful smile before stooping to grab the mug and mopping up the spilled liquid. The witch shrugged like it was nothing, but he had a smug curve to his lips as he went back to his phone.

His jaw ticked as he typed out a text message and then flipped the device over onto the bartop.

With a heaving sigh, he raked his hand through that vibrant hair like something was frustrating him.

He only had an inch of his drink left, and the idea of him leaving made me frown, though I wasn’t sure why.

He looked stressed, with stiff posture and a tired slump to his shoulders. It didn’t take away from his good looks, and I found myself wanting to talk to him and hear what he was worrying about.

Something about him drew me in. I could help him forget his worries, at least for a while.

His large hands wrapped around his mug and lifted it for another sip. What else might he do with those hands? I was so damn hungry.

I might as well shoot my shot—no reason not to.

It wasn’t like I was jumping a stranger in an alley to suck their blood. I’d found most men around here didn’t mind being bit during a hookup. Supposedly, it felt good. And if he wasn’t interested in me, I’d wait for Buck.

Gathering up my courage, I slipped from my seat and closed the distance between us. He watched my progress with mild curiosity, his brows raising a fraction and his mouth pulling up. My stomach swooped but I forced myself to keep walking.

“Hey,” I said, hating how my voice pitched higher from my nerves. “Come here often?”

The cheesy pickup line earned me a chuckle.

“Yeah, sometimes.”

Eyes the color of melted chocolate flicked over me, assessing my cap-sleeve top tucked into a long pleated polka-dot skirt—“grandma clothes,” my mom used to complain. But I thought I looked adorable, and he seemed to like it, because his lips curved into a smile as he met my gaze.

Clearing my throat, I folded my hands behind my back, twisting my fingers together to offset my nerves.

“Well, I’m new to town, so if you’re a local, I’d love to ask you a few questions,” I said. It was true, and the excuse gave us an easy topic of conversation.

“Sure,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Rowen.”

“Sadie,” I said, taking it.

His long fingers curled around mine. The contact sent a flutter through my stomach, and from the way his pupils expanded, he felt the same.

I wet my lips, already imagining what his blood would taste like and how warm his skin would be under my lips—bad Sadie! A handshake was not an invitation to bite him!

He pulled out the barstool beside him, and I hopped onto it, smoothing my skirt.

Giving him my cutest smile, I said, “So tell me, what are the best parts of Pumpkin Hollow?”

Rowen’s smile widened, showing soft dimples in his cheeks. His posture relaxed and his hand settled around his mug.

“Well, you’ve been to our downtown,” he started.

“Obviously.” My nose scrunched as I grinned back at him.

“But there’s more than just this fine establishment. There’s the diner, which just reopened, the tea shop, the bookstore, and the bakery. Have you been to any of them?”

“I popped into the bakery the other day. Delicious muffins.”

My cheeks warmed at the reminder of my interview, but I didn’t want to jinx the new job by telling a stranger about it before I even started.

“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” he murmured, letting his breath out in an audible exhale. I couldn’t determine what his wistful expression meant, but he blinked and seemed to refocus. “Definitely check out the diner. It’s my new favorite.”

“Will do.”

“And the weekend after next is our annual Pumpkin Festival. There will be street vendors, a brewing contest—oh, and there’s a broom race. It’s a good time.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there,” he said, meeting my eyes and glancing down. He was adorable.

“Anything fun I can do this weekend?” I asked.

“The cathedral up on the hill is open to the public on some weekends. And we have really great hiking. Do you like being outdoors?”

“Um, yeah!”

Well, I used to.

With my new sensitivity to light, I hadn’t ventured out into nature. The forest at night still freaked me out, even if I was more than human myself now.

“Maybe we should go hiking sometime,” he suggested, and maybe it slipped out without his permission, because he pressed his lips between his teeth, his dimples showing, like he regretted his words.

I guess I wasn’t making my intentions clear.

Heart racing, I reached up and placed my fingers over his wrist, giving him an encouraging smile.

“I’d love that, but I’d need to get some flashlights. Night hiking and all.”

A breathy chuckle escaped his throat. “That’d be fun.”

For a moment, my thumb stroked the soft hollow on his wrist, below his thumb, and his eyes darkened, heavy lidded. The ache in my veins turned to a liquid heat low in my stomach.

The tinny sound of a guitar being tuned had me jumping in my seat. Frowning, I twisted to see a singer setting up in the corner.

“It’s just Monroe,” Rowen said, turning his hand to grasp mine. He didn’t weave our fingers together, but his thumb rubbed across my wrist and his fingers curled over mine.

Clearly, he got my message.

“No ring?” I asked, wanting to confirm before things got even more intimate.

“Haven’t met the right one yet,” he answered hoarsely. A flush reddened his cheeks, contrasting with the purple-red of his hair.

“I love your hair. It’s so cool,” I said honestly, reaching up with my other hand to brush it off his forehead.

His eyes fell to my mouth, and I realized I was biting my lip, showing off one fang.

“Have you ever been bitten by a vampire?” I asked.

“No.”

He looked hungry, even though I was the one who needed to feed.

The bar had filled up during our talk, and when the musician started playing, the noise level made it hard to hear each other.

Leaning forward, I murmured into his ear. “Want to go somewhere quieter?”

He nodded, the pupils of his eyes expanding until the brown was a thin ring.

Sliding from my seat, I jerked my head toward the back entrance. He kept hold of my hand, his fingers enveloping mine. My skin tingled with the flush rising up my neck.

This felt so much more intimate than the partners I’d fed off of in the last few weeks, and we weren’t even alone yet. No one else had held my hand or sent sparks across my skin with that simple touch.

Maybe it was his magic. My fangs twinged at the thought of tasting his blood.

We weaved through the tables and down the hallway past the bathrooms. The back door stood cracked open, leading to the empty patio beyond.