Page 11 of Twice Bitten

“How about we skip all that? You take no for an answer like a good man would and move so I can get into my car, and then we’ll part amicably. No harm. No foul.” I gave him a bright smile. “I’m a barista at a small coffee shop and a low-level hedgewitch. We both know you’re not in this for the long haul.”

Beckett opened his mouth, thought better of what he was going to say, then snapped it shut. A low chuckle slipped from his lips, and I realized I’d just made a terrible mistake.

In my efforts to reject him, I’d piqued his curiosity. Immortality had to get boring after a while, and there was nothing like a new and shiny blood-filled witch to keep life interesting. Unfortunately, I seemed to have become Beckett’s newest challenge.

He came closer. I swallowed hard and allowed myself to take a step back. Beckett reached a pale hand out and gently tugged a dark curl that had slipped from the low bun I’d tied my hair in during the afternoon rush.

“Maybe I wasn’t,” he admitted, his cool vampire breath washing over my face. “But now I’m curious to see what’s got you so tightly wrapped up.”

My pulse slammed against my chest.

“I’m going to unwrap you like a gift, pretty Alex.” He winked at me and disappeared in a gust of frigid, dark wind.

Fear trickled down my spine. My limbs were locked in place for a long moment, and when I could move again, I lunged for my vehicle and slipped inside, locking the doors behind me.

Inside the small cabin, I clutched the steering wheel, my breath coming in heaving rasps.

I sat there for several minutes, willing the fear to go away, and when I could focus on something other than Beckett’s parting words, I double-checked the locks and pulled out of the parking lot.

But when I lifted my gaze to the rearview mirror, a dark shadowy figure appeared where my car had just been and lifted a hand in farewell. Beckett could have taken me if he wanted to, but as I’d already suspected, he was the kind of vampire who liked to play with his food.

Foreboding made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and I drove all the way home white-knuckling the steering wheel.

FIVE

Home had always been my sanctuary, no matter if I lived in an apartment or a trailer or a house. I nested wherever I went. My space reflected me. But as I walked into the familiar, dark academia-inspired space I loved so much, my thoughts went to Beckett, and I wondered if I should put more lights in. Maybe motion lights outside. And cameras.

Maybe hire a team of hellhounds and boobytrap all the entrances.

My hands shook as I dropped the keys into the bowl beside the front door. I hung my purse on the hook and kicked my shoes off, then shrugged the vest off to hang beside my bag.

The vest’s familiar clink did little to settle my nerves, so I went straight to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of honey mead, a gift from the local fae when I’d helped them figure out a particularly vexing pest issue. They rarely parted with their special brew, and as such I only allowed myself a small glass on special occasions.

Or occasions where I was worried about a vampire draining me dry.

My kitchen cabinets were a dark forest green withburnished gold pulls in the shape of cherry branches. The flooring was taken from an old carriage house during a building remodel—a pretty, deep burgundy brick with strange veins of gold coursing throughout. At the same time, I’d chosen to install heated flooring, a little more complicated with brick and not a common choice in Texas, but doable once I found a clever contractor. My kitchen island was painted the same forest green, and I’d topped it with a labradorite slab, heavy in green and gold flash. I’d color-drenched the room in a pretty coppery brown paint and installed incandescent lighting that cast a comforting glow over the kitchen, lending a relaxing, old-world air to the space.

I opened one of the island drawers and took the key to the liquor cabinet out. Having the cabinet locked when I lived alone was a little overkill, but sometimes loneliness lent itself to destructive habits. Knowing there were a few steps required to unlock the booze gave me time to reconsider.

The pale turquoise mead gleamed inside the crystal bottle, a faint hum making the liquid shimmer and dance under the low light. I took the bottle and a small crystal rocks glass, setting them on the counter before pouring myself exactly four ounces of mead. Half a cup—enough to numb the fear clawing at the back of my mind and help me focus enough to go down to the basement and pack some orders. Any more and I’d pass out on the couch. Any less, and I knew Beckett’s chilling words would haunt me for the rest of the night.

After carefully replacing the bottle and locking everything back up, I went to the living room and sank onto the couch, releasing a shaky, pent-up breath.

“Edmund, play Amos Lee.”

A click of the tongue and a dry voice rang through the speaker system. “Really, Alex? Did something happen for you to make such a sad choice?”

I sighed. Edmund was…Edmund. How could one describesomething that both existed and yet did not? He was sentient, I supposed, a spirit that came with the house, though he’d waited until I’d signed on the dotted line at the mortgage office before announcing his presence.

He’d learned his lesson after announcing himself to the last almost-owners a little too soon. They reacted as most people would: by fleeing the house in stark terror and filing a lawsuit against the former owners that had gone absolutely nowhere.

Apparently, not disclosing the presence of house spirits or whatever the hell Edmund was didn’t violate any current laws. I found the house through sheer accident after someone mentioned a “creepy historical property” that just wouldn’t sell.

I bought the house for a dream price with money my mother had stashed away for me and met Edmund the next day, when he revealed himself to me right in the middle of shaving my legs.

Still had the scar on my calf.

Edmund was a spirit, kind of. He was like Siri, if Siri had an attitude and made cracks about your life choices. We had to set a lot of boundaries when I moved in, but things were pretty good now. Being confined to the house made him grumpy sometimes, but we were dealing with that as we both settled into new norms.