Lucien has been a constant in my dreams since I was a small girl. Terrifying, horrible nightmares. And because of that, I’ve done my best to avoid the tall, sexy warlock as much as possible.
Although, I have to admit, he was a huge help last year when my sisters and I needed it the most. For that reason alone, I’ll always be grateful to Lucien.
“Good morning,” I say and instinctively reach out to pet Sanguine. “How do you know my cat?”
“I’ve seen her around,” he says and leans against the counter, grinning at us both. “She suits you.”
“I’m so glad you approve.” My voice is as dry as the Sahara, but Lucien doesn’t even blink. It’s his eyes that always get me. Ice blue and so full of wisdom, it takes a girl’s breath away.
At least, it takes mine away. Paired with messy brown hair that’s always a little overgrown, a square jawline, and hands with long, capable fingers, and Lucien is a sight to behold.
I’ve been drawn to him since the moment I met him.
Keeping my distance hasn’t been easy. It’s taken concentration, some spells, and a lot of willpower.
So I can’t help feeling salty when the man walks into my business.
“It’s awfully early for you to be out and about in the Quarter,” I say.
“I’m headed to the lab,” he says and grins when Sanguine walks right into his arms for some petting.
I’m jealous of my own familiar.
“And you want coffee?”
“Yes, please. Black is fine. And I want to talk with you.”
“I’ll pour, you talk.” I take a disposable cup off the stack next to my machine and pour the coffee.
“Millicent, things are starting to happen.”
Every damn time he says my full name, I get shivers down my spine.
“No need to be so formal,” I say with a wink, trying to keep it light. “Millie’s just fine. You’ve known me for a decade, Lucien.”
“I’ve known you a hell of a lot longer than that,” he replies. “Horace—”
“Is gone,” I interrupt. “We got rid of him a year ago, and things have been calm. There’s no need to discuss this.”
“Miss Sophia warned you that he wouldn’t be gone forever. And you know that’s true.”
“Nothing is happening.”
“Yes, it is, and I know it scares you.”
“I’m not afraid of anything, because nothing is happening.” But I feel my stomach tighten. In the few hours of sleep that I manage to get, I’ve been dreaming, and it’s filled me with dread.
“You’re not the only one who dreams,” he says, and my eyes find his again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Stop reading my mind. I didn’t give you permission to do that.”
“Meow.”
“You’re new here,” I say, pointing to Sanguine. “You don’t get an opinion.”
“I can’t read you, and you know it,” Lucien replies. “And it’s damn frustrating.”
I sigh and pour Lucien another cup of coffee, then toss out the one he hasn’t even touched. I reach under the counter and pull up a small vial, dropping two drops into the brew.
“Are you poisoning me? Or giving me one of your famous love spells?” he asks.
“Neither.” I give the coffee a quick stir and pass it over. “It’s a protection potion. If you’re dreaming enough to come in here to talk to me about it, you need it.”
“I need more than this, Mill.”
I shake my head, not wanting to even consider that what he says is true. “Nothing’s happening.”
Lucien’s ice-blue eyes narrow as he sighs and takes a sip of his brew. “Red rose petals.”
“It adds a nice flavor, I think,” I reply. I’ve always enjoyed talking all things magic with Lucien. He’s so damn wise. So well-versed. And I know there’s so much more I could learn from him.
But I continue keeping my distance.
“When you decide you need me, you know where to find me.”
“In a lab.” Lucien is a warlock, a witch, but he also studies blood and consults with hospitals and police departments on many cases involving rare diseases and DNA. He’s a damn genius.
“My home, my lab, and everywhere in between. You have my number, and I want you to use it, Millie.”
“You only call me Millie when you’re trying to get on my good side.”
“Millicent is a beautiful name,” he murmurs and then turns away as if he didn’t just say the sweetest thing ever. “Call me when you need me.”
He leaves, and I glance down at Sanguine, who’s decided to take a bath on my counter.
“You can’t do that there.”
“Meow.”
* * *
It’s been a day. Sanguine is sweet and little and stubborn as hell. Like me. So, because she found her favorite perch on my counter, she didn’t want to move. None of the customers said anything, but I didn’t love it. When my employee, Esme, came in to cover the afternoon shift, I took Sanguine to the pet store to get all of her supplies and then hurried home.
“For such a little thing, you’re heavy,” I say as I set the cat—in her shiny new carrier—at my feet on the front porch as I search in my bag for my keys.
I literally just had them in the car. They can’t have gone far.
But my bag is cavernous, and I can’t find them, so I glance around to make sure no one is watching and unlock my door with a flick of my wrist.
Just a little parlor trick I picked up that comes in handy now and then.
I reach for Sanguine, and when I glance up, I frown.
“Blood on my door,” I murmur. “Just a few drops.”
I carry the cat inside, then return to my car for the litter and the other supplies. When I cross the threshold, I glance at the blood again.
I cleanse my home weekly. And I’m not talking about scrubbing the toilets and mopping the floor—although I do that, too. I recharge the crystals I put in all four cardinal
