Page 116 of The Hunter’s Affection

“I texted earlier to let her know we’d be coming back in about a week—”

“Or two. Or three.” She smiled innocently.

“Char, we can stay here every time we’re not on the hunt. I told you, the world is yours.”

And he was serious. God she loved her husband.

“I know. But I do want to spend the holidays back home.”

“Then home it is. After we find a place to buy right here, in Capri.”

She shook her head. “You’re ridiculous—”

“And serious. If you love it this much, let’s make sure we come back.”

She rolled her eyes. Charlotte had learned a lot over the last few weeks, but no person alive, vampire or otherwise, could tell when Torr was being serious.

“What else did Laria say?” she asked, looking over the cliff out into the sea. The partially wooded and rocky coastline gave way to turquoise blue water dotted with boats from the coast well into the gulf. And she’d thought her parents wealthy. This place was . . . incredible.

“Nothing much.”

She whipped her head back around. Charlotte knew that tone.

“Torr?”

He sighed, clearly holding something back.

“Just some rumblings, from a friend of Laria’s—”

“Rumblings?”

He shrugged. “After the recent incident . . .”

His voice trailed off, Torr taking a pause to drink and grab the menu.

The incident. The one that had taken them to Italy in the first place, after they’d determined the new Cheld was located in Polvica. Unfortunately, they’d arrived too late.

Drake. Or Rowan. Or another vampire like them who also believed the threat of the Cheld could not be ignored. They still weren’t sure who had gotten to him first, but the town had been abuzz about the shoemaker’s death when they’d arrived. Torr had taken it pretty hard, as had Laria. From there they traveled to Lindisfarne, the weather in Northern England quite different than it had been here in Italy.

Unfortunately, they’d not gotten very far. After waiting for low tide, the island only accessible once per day, they’d taken a tour of the old castle. Stayed for nearly a week, waiting. If it truly had been a Sect “stronghold,” as Torr called it, surely they would be a target. Torr hated to put her in danger so soon after the turning, but as Charlotte reminded him, it was what she’d signed up for.

After more than a week, they’d found nothing. Laria returned to Stone Haven and Torr brought Charlotte back here after she’d talked nonstop about the beauty of a country she’d seen for such a short time.

“I think it’s just conjecture right now, but some are saying what happened in Polvica, coupled with the death in Amsterdam—”

“They fear it’ll encourage the Sect to retaliate?”

“This happens from time to time. For years things are quiet, lulling you to almost forget the two sides exist, and then . . . this. Something instigates one side or the other . . .”

He stopped.

The waiter, arriving with their wine, poured a sip for her first. She was supposed to taste-test it. Great. Swirling it around in the glass and taking a sniff—a wine connoisseur she was not—Charlotte took a sip, trying hard not to make a face.

Which turned out not to be necessary.

“This is actually not bad!”

Torr smiled, the whites of his teeth contrasting with his deep tan.