grew fast, and I intentionally pulled in his scent. I didn't care that he was throwing off pheromones to lure me into making myself vulnerable. It felt too damn good, and I trusted him to not break my skin, substituting sex in place of his need for blood.
Fingertips playing with the hair above his neck, my shoulders relaxed and my gut tightened in anticipation. My unclaimed scars were both a pleasure and a pain, making me vulnerable to any vampire who knew how to stimulate them, but when in the hands of an expert, it made for insanely good bedroom play, and Kisten knew it all.
Thoroughly lost, I went to swing my left leg over his to pull him to me, then stopped, remembering where I was. Gathering my will, I pushed back from him, and Kisten chuckled, desire heady in his gaze. 'Damn it, look what you did to me,' I said. My face was warm, and my hand rested atop my neck, hiding it. 'Don't you have napkins to fold or something?'
His grin was cocky as he leaned back and ate another almond. My fluster worsened when he glanced at David with an infuriating, satisfied-male look on his face. So he had gotten me hot and bothered. It wasn't hard to do when you knew what buttons to push, and my demon bite was a huge button, easy to hit and hard to miss. Plus, I loved him. 'See you tonight?' he had the nerve to ask.
'Yes,' I snapped, but I was looking forward to it already despite my embarrassment that David had seen the entire incident. Okay, I was a witch with a vampire boyfriend. What did he think we did on our dates? Play tiddledywinks?
The hum of Jenks's wings caught my attention, and the pixy landed lightly atop the dessert menu. 'What's up, Rache?' he asked, angular features concerned. 'You're all red.'
'Nothing.' I sipped my tea, the ice sliding down the glass and smacking my nose again. 'You want some sugar water or peanut butter?' I asked as I set it down.
Kisten subtly moved himself farther onto his stool and away from me. Jenks's wings increased their hum. 'You sure you're okay? You're not sick, are you? You're throwing off heat like you've got a fever. Let me feel your forehead,' he said, rising into the air.
'I'm fine,' I said, waving him off. 'It's all this leather. What's Mr. Ray doing?'
Jenks saw Kisten smirking as he ate his almonds, then my hand covering my scar. The pixy's attention went to David, who now had his back to us. 'Oh!' Jenks sang out, laughing. 'Kisten got you worked up? You tell him about Ivy kissing you, and he had to prove himself? '
'Jenks!' I shouted, and Kisten flinched, his face going white. From the end of the bar, David grunted, turning to look at me questioningly.
'Ivy kissed you?' Kisten said, and I could have just died.
'Look, it wasn't a big deal,' I said, shooting evil glares at Jenks, who was now staring at me as if wondering why I was mad. 'She was trying to prove to me that I couldn't control her when she lost herself to her blood lust, and things got out of hand. Can we talk about something else?' Jenks was spilling dust to make a sunbeam on the counter. 'Jenks, what is Mr. Ray doing?' I said, flicking an almond at him.
Jenks stayed where he was as if nailed to the air, and the nut passed over his head to clatter behind the bar. 'Bitchin,' he said, smirking. 'He's been here for twenty minutes. And don't let her fool you, Kisten. She's been thinking about that kiss all afternoon.'
I made a snatch at him, missing when he darted back. 'It surprised me, is all.' I snuck glances at Kisten as he tried to hide his worry. Behind him, David frowned and turned away. Remembering why I was here, I took Kisten's wrist and tilted it so I could see what time it was. 'I want to go in with Mrs. Sarong, seeing as neither one of them know the other will be here. Where is she anyway? She ought to be here by now.'
By the end of the bar, David turned his attention to the door and tugged his coat straight. Kisten, too, sat up. 'Speak of the devil,' he said. 'At least three cars by the sound of it.'
His steps slow but seeming to eat the distance like magic, David came back, and I felt a wash of angst. Crap, I had magicked Mrs. Sarong's baseball field to convince her to pay me for my time when I'd stolen Mr. Ray's fish, thinking it had been hers. Yes, she'd asked for this meeting, and though it seemed likely she wanted to talk to me about her murdered aide, the possibility that she might still be on about that fish had me nervous.
'I'll be in the kitchen folding napkins,' Kisten said softly, his hand trailing along my shoulder as he rose and slipped away.
The look on his face when Jenks told him Ivy had kissed me flashed before me. 'I'm a coward,' I said softly to Jenks as he landed on my earring.
'No you aren't,' he started. 'It's just—'
'Yes I am,' I interrupted as I stood and made sure I didn't have spots of iced tea marring my pants. 'I pick a place where I know someone will save my butt if I get in over my head.'
David harrumphed and stood beside me, and I was thankful he didn't seem to think anything less of me. For whatever reason. 'That's not being a coward,' he said as the front door opened and light spilled in. 'That's thinking ahead.'
I said nothing. Nervous, I forced my features to find a confident slant as the light was eclipsed by what looked like eight people. Mrs. Sarong was first, a young woman close behind her. Her replacement aide, perhaps? Five men in identical suits flowed in after them to make a semicircle clearly protective in nature. Mrs. Sarong ignored them.
The very small woman smiled with her lips closed, taking off her gloves and handing them to her aide. Eyes on me, she reached up and removed her white hat, handing it and her white leather clutch purse to the woman as well. Heels clacking on the hardwood floor, she came forward. She was wearing a tasteful white suit that looked businesslike without hiding the curves of her small but well-proportioned body. Her feet were tiny. Though in her mid-fifties, I guessed, she clearly took care of herself, being trim and poised. Styled short and off her face, her blond hair had streaks of gray, but that only added to her professionalism. A string of pearls was about her neck, and she wore a diamond ring with enough sparkle to dance the Hustle by.
'Ms. Morgan,' she said as she approached, her entourage fanning out to make me wary. 'It's good to see you again. But honestly, dear, we could have met at my office or perhaps Carew Tower if you felt more comfortable in a neutral setting.' She glanced quickly over the room, her nose wrinkling. 'Though this has a certain rustic charm.'
I didn't think she meant it as a slur, so I didn't take it that way. With David at my shoulder and Jenks sitting on it, I came forward to take her extended hand. My arm had been in a sling the last time we'd met, and I shook her hand, pleased to find her grip firm and sincere.
'Mrs. Sarong,' I said, feeling tall and awkward in my leather since I stood almost eight inches over her. 'I'd like you to meet David Hue, my alpha.'
Her smile widened. 'Pleasure,' she said, inclining her head to David, who did the same in return. 'Taking a witch as your alpha to start a pack with?' Her eyebrows went up, and her eyes, untouched by age, glinted. 'Wonderful way to play the rules, Mr. Hue. I have since plugged that particular gap in my employee handbook, but wonderful nonetheless.'
'Thank you,' he said gracefully, taking a step back and removing himself from the conversation, but not the meeting.
Mrs. Sarong held out her hand to her aide, and the woman took it, letting herself be drawn forward. 'This is my daughter, Patricia,' the older woman said, surprising me. 'Since the unfortunate demise of my aide, she will be shadowing me for the next year to gain a better understanding of whom I deal with on a daily basis.'
My eyebrows rose, and I stifled my surprise.
'Likewise,' she said firmly, her brown eyes giving away her intelligence. Her voice was high but determined, and she was dressed with as much class as her mother, though admittedly showing a lot more skin. Now that I knew their relationship, the resemblance was obvious, but where Mrs. Sarong was aging beautifully, her daughter Patricia was just simply beautiful, long black hair softly curving about her face and her small delicate hands possessing a hard strength. Instead of pearls she had on a chain of gold, a brown stone at the nadir point. Her pack tattoo, a vine twining about barbed wire, circled her ankle.
Stumbling, I pulled David forward. 'This is David,' I said, suddenly feeling like my mom trying to hook me up with her friend's son.
David started, but then, with a rueful smile that made him ten times more attractive, he shook her hand.
