Chapter 7
Colette
When I walk over to open the inn’s front door, the door swings open by itself, and there is Archer, standing in the snow.
Flakes drift over him and land in his black hair.
His cheeks are flushed instead of pale, his eyes are bright and even more richly colored than I remembered, and his hair is loose and full over the tops of his broad shoulders.
He’s wearing a black cloak, a cream-colored shirt, dark green trousers, and that same pair of tall boots.
A necklace sits on his powerful-looking chest. It’s gold with a ruby of some sort set inside.
My stomach lifts like I jumped off the ocean cliffs. I did that once when I was a wild adolescent. It’s such a similar sensation—I’m falling, and I don’t know what will happen when I land.
A world lives behind Archer’s red-brown eyes.
I know so little about vampires and even less about Archer himself.
I’ve never wanted to untangle a mystery as much as I long to figure him out.
In one word, he’s fascinating. I must restrain myself from asking rude questions such as Who did you eat today?
“Good morning!” I say, trying to speak like I’m not incredibly nervous about this maddening project our publishers have set on us. I traded three more letters with Mistress Avalon before caving.
He lifts his black eyebrows. “Is it?”
I wave him in, and he nods his head politely before entering.
Those staying here stop chatting as we pass their tables, but at least I don’t hear any gossip. I’m sure it’ll be the talk as soon as we are up the stairs and in my room.
“I assume you have received the same order from your publisher as I have from mine?”
“Aye.” My heart twists at how very upset he seems at the idea. I mean, I get it. I was too, but honestly, I was starting to get excited about it. Nervous, yes, but also hopeful.
Archer swears under his breath. “I’m shocked that we’re being coerced into this.
” He walks with me toward the back of the inn.
He’s carrying a satchel that is perfectly clean but worn at the strap where it hooks over his shoulder.
“I have an idea for a premise if you’re open to suggestions.
I will give you the lead on this project because you’re the one selling books. ”
The fire rises and pops as Archer walks by.
Archer laughs nervously. “Was that the inn saying hello or get out?”
I give him a pained smile. “I’m not sure, actually.
So as for the co-writing thing, I tried to fight it.
As I’m sure you did,” I say, leading him up the stairs.
“I didn’t do as much as I probably could have because the charity auction started.
” I point down at the table at the far side of the gathering room, which I set up with Kaya the baker earlier this morning.
“It’s to help Southoak.” The town had a massive fire recently.
Archer eyes the table. “That’s amazing. Kaya runs Two Cats Bakery, right?”
“She does.”
“I suppose we are trapped in the short story project,” he says, going back to the subject of writing.
He trails me with light footsteps that don’t match the size of him. He’s very tall and heavily muscled. I guess light feet is a vampire thing.
I shrug. “Might as well make the best of it.”
He glances back toward the guests below. “I’m surprised I wasn’t accosted the moment I arrived in town.”
“Our mayor set a rule that no one could linger here without reason.” My bedroom door swings open by itself, and we walk inside.
“Oh, that’s good. Maybe we’ll have some privacy then. Do you have many staying here at present?” Archer asks.
“Three tourists as well as Magnus, Aila, and their younglings.”
Panic floods his eyes. “Ah, right.”
“They won’t bother us,” I say. “I told them we are on a tight deadline.”
I try hard not to recall the way he looked at me when I was in my underclothes last time. Now, he’s staring so hard at my desk that I have to wave my hand in front of his face to get his attention. I can smell the candles he must burn at his house, beeswax and rosemary.
“That’s…” he starts, his words fading.
“My desk, yes. What?”
He purses his lips and crosses his arms. “It looks like a magical storm hit a candy shop.”
“I know where everything is like this. Don’t you dare put your frighteningly tidy hands on a thing.”
Spreading those hands, he shuts his eyes briefly before staring again. “I wouldn’t dream of getting anywhere near that disaster.”
“Want to see the missive my publisher, Mistress Avalon, sent over?” I grab the letter from my desk and hand it over.
He scans it, biting one side of his lower lip with a fang. My heart flips over. What would fangs feel like against my neck? He glances up at me through his sooty lashes. Warmth gathers in my belly.
“About the same as mine. A short story by Snowlight,” he says. “May I?” He gestures to the small table and high-backed chair where I sometimes take my meals.
“Yes, of course,” I say. “Make yourself comfortable.”
He settles himself into the chair and takes out a quill, an ink pot, and a single sheet of parchment. Holding up the quill, he regards me. “I must apologize.”
“For what?”
“For barging into your room before I left,” he says.
“You already apologized, plus it was the inn doing that. Not you.”
“I should have fought the inn harder. I value privacy, mine and yours as well. It will never happen again if I’m physically able to put a stop to it.”
I can’t fight the sly grin pulling at my mouth, but I don’t speak the words floating in my head. Too tempting for you, vampire? Why not see if this project can be especially fun?
No, I won’t say it. He obviously wants nothing to do with me.
At least, that’s what he says, although I know he was physically attracted to me.
Maybe I’ll drop my quill and see how he reacts.
He might just need a little push. Perhaps this vampire isn’t allowing himself to have a good time.
Too much time spent in stories about darkness and pain.
“You said you have an idea for a premise?” I let my quill slip from my fingers and it falls to the flower-patterned rug at my feet.