“The rumors are true then?” He examined the entryway as though expecting a ghost to walk through the walls and boop him on the nose for being a bad vampire. “The house is haunted?”
“Yep.” That was mostly the truth. Close enough for my conscience anyway.
“Do you know the identity of your ghost?” Genuine curiosity guided his perusal. “Is there more than one?”
“Maud isn’t here if that’s what you’re asking.” Had he known who I was last night? All signs pointed to yes. That would explain his interest in me. “Still want that sandwich?”
“Of course.”
Pivoting on my heel, I led him toward the kitchen. On my way past the bucket, I stepped in a patch of fizzing suds, and my foot shot out from under me. I flung out my arms and braced for an impact that never came.
“I have you.” Warm breath fanned my throat as his arms cinched around my middle. “You should be more careful.”
“I was…” I breathed in the scent of his skin and lost my train of thought as that same magnetism from last night flipped switches in my brain. The tension thrumming in me uncoiled until I melted against him. Giddiness frothed in my mouth, and I had to swallow giggles. “Cleaning. The floor. It was dirty.”
“I see.” He swiped a dollop of bubbles off my thigh, rubbing the film between his fingers while I prayed to every god I had ever read about that I’d shaved the night before…or even the previous week. Work was my one social outlet, and hoop skirts hid a multitude of sins. “The kitchen is this way?”
“Hmm?” I would have said most anything to keep him talking. His accent was kind of sexy.
“You did not hit your head.” His accent thickened as though he had plucked the thought right out of my mind. “I caught you.”
“The kitchen is this way.” There. I sounded perfectly normal. “Hey, whoa.” I flailed in his grip as he lifted me against his chest and started walking. “You can put me down now.”
“And risk you slipping again?” He strode through the wetness and bubbles without sliding an inch. His shoes were quality leather, expensive, and murky suds were bursting on them.
Once in the kitchen, I put up a token struggle that caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle. I wasn’t going anywhere until he released me, and we both knew it. “Put me down,” I said again, hating the breathless catch to my voice. “Please.”
“As you wish.” He set me on my feet and began a slow examination of the kitchen. “You have a lovely home.”
“Thanks.” My dreamy tone evaporated once he crossed the room. As my head cleared, blood rushed into my cheeks over the damsel routine I’d pulled. His lips curved at the sight, and my stomach quivered. Touch must be the key to his lure. Good to know. “How do you feel about grilled cheese?”
“I haven’t had grilled cheese since I was a boy.” He studied the ingredients as I placed them on the counter as though each were a foreign object. The processed cheese in particular seemed to fascinate him.
“Then consider me your walk down memory lane.” I patted the island, and he took the hint and sat on one of the barstools. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Almost on reflex, he flicked a glance at my throat, and I swallowed. Audibly. But he just chuckled.
“I do not take what is not freely given.” He stacked his forearms on the marble countertop. “Do not fear me.”
“Can I get back to you on that?” I started preheating my pan. “You’re the first Last Seed I’ve met.”
Volkov canted his head to one side. “How can you tell?”
“Twice now you’ve made my brain melt at a touch. Made vamps can’t hook me with their lures.”
A fact he ought to know, unless it was me he was testing. Yeah. That seemed more likely.
While he mulled over his response, I poured him a glass of lemonade. Our fingers brushed when I passed it to him, and a flash of heat swept through my limbs too fast for me to do more than gasp before he ensnared me. Sweat beaded on my forehead and rolled stinging tracks into my eyes. The cord powering my brain disconnected with a pop, and I twirled down the path to La-La land.
I was hot. Burning up. Ready to peel off my clothes and dance in the sprinklers. Summer in the south was killer. I really ought to crank up the AC or crack a window or stick a palm frond in his hand.
A palm frond? the distant voice of reason echoed. Do you hear yourself? It’s not even summer.
“Apologies.” As he withdrew, so did the urge to strip naked and jiggle on the front lawn for his entertainment. “I had to be certain you understood how fast a touch from one such as me can ruin you.”
“Where I come from, it’s considered bad manners to brainwash your host.” I scrambled backward until my butt hit the fridge, wondering what the heck Woolly had gotten me into with him. “Explain yourself, or get out. I’m good with either.”
“I have a gift for you.” He produced a powder-blue jewelry box from his suit jacket and slid it across the counter to me so I wouldn’t have to risk an accidental touch. “Open it, please.”
“Woolly?” I asked for her opinion. “This was your bright idea.”
The lights flared in response, and the fridge hummed soothingly behind me.
Trusting she wouldn’t steer me wrong, I palmed the box and lifted the lid. “You shouldn’t have.” A ruby-red bangle rested on a bed of white velvet. I tilted it to inspect the intricate metal clasp, and an air bubble disrupted the solid color of what I realized was a clear tube filled with tinted fluid. “Is that…blood?”
“Yes.” The tips of his fangs showed as he spoke. “Mine to be precise.”
“You really shouldn’t have,” I repeated.
“Try it on,” he urged.
“I can’t possible accept this—” highly disturbing and inappropriate bangle “—but I appreciate the sentiment. I know what the gift of blood means to your people. This is too generous.”
“This is not an act of sentimentality.” He gestured toward the box again. “Please, try it on. There’s something I wish to show you.”
The lights overhead burned brighter in encouragement.
Here goes nothing.
I pinched the bangle between my fingers and examined its curve. Glass doesn’t bend without breaking, so what I’d first assumed was a hinged clasp must be merely decorative. At Volkov’s urging, I slid the bangle over my hand and yelped as it pinched my wrist. No, not pinched. Pierced.
“I’m trying very hard not to stake first and ask questions later.” Too bad I had returned the ash stake to Jolene. I would have to knife him and run if things got ugly. The sharp pain receded, and the bangle slid higher on my arm. “What just happened?”
“Take my hand.” He splayed his fingers, waiting. “What’s an ounce more faith?”
The door to the fridge opened, nudging me forward.
Our palms slid against each other and… The urge to naked polka never emerged. His skin was warm, smooth. His fingers meshed with mine, his thundercloud eyes intent on me. A line appeared between his brows as though he were deep in thought, but that was the only outward sign of his concentration.
“This gives me immunity to your kind.” I dropped his hand and twirled it aside to check the puncture marks on my wrist. Gone. Healed in a blink. “Why would you surrender the greatest weapon in your arsenal?”
The real question was why did he think I was deserving of his gift? I was no one. Nothing. The ashes of a once-bright future. Where was the benefit for him?
“I’m offering you an alliance with Clan Volkov.”
I shook my head to clear the ringing in my ears. “Why would you possibly want an alliance with me?”
Stripped of my title as the Woolworth heir, I had no position, no money, and no worth as a bargaining chip in any alliance. Factor in the years spent with magical restraints grounding my powers in Atramentous, and I was little more than human to boot.
“Trust me.” His mouth crooked to one side. “Soon you’ll be drowning in such offers. I mean for mine to be the first and the most generous.”
“I don’t understand.”
Genuine pity darkened his eyes. “I’m not at liberty to explain.”