Wicked Soul (Ancient Blood #1)

“In the basement… you stepped in front of the man with the stake. Why?”

I frowned, trying to remember what he was referring to. The entire night was blurring into one long horror story, so it took me a little while to remember what he meant. “Oh. I dunno. Isn’t that a pretty normal reaction to seeing someone attempt to torture a person?”

Warin stared at me for a long moment before he softly said, “No, Liv. It’s not a normal reaction for a human to try to shield a vampire from harm with her own body.”

I shrugged, the unwavering attention from his blue gaze making me fidget on the bed. “I guess I’ve never liked seeing people pick on someone weak. I didn’t really think about it.”

Warin blinked three times in rapid succession, then narrowed his eyes at me. “You think I’m incapable of protecting myself?”

Oh, lovely. Had I managed to hurt his male pride?

“I’m sure you’re very capable, under normal circumstances. But, I mean, they had you tied up in a cage.”

His full lips twitched. “They had us both in a cage.” He placed a single, cool fingertip underneath my chin. “Never, ever put yourself in danger for a vampire again.”

I wasn’t exactly used to near-strangers touching me like that—and especially not near-strangers with features like Adonis himself, with blazing blue eyes that made made my heart speed up and the rest of the world seem to fade. I blamed my lack of experience with such situations for why it took me nearly five full seconds before I realized I, instead of answering the man, was staring dreamily at Warin with a dumb smile on my face.

“Ugh-um,” I coughed as I swiftly pulled back from his light touch, face hot and undoubtedly bright red. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not like I’ve got any set-in-stone plans about throwing myself in harm’s way, or anything, but I’m pretty sure that in the unlikely event I find myself in a similar situation, I’d do the same again. Sorry.”

I don’t know why I tacked the “sorry” on—maybe it was because Warin looked absolutely dumbfounded, sensual mouth agape and eyes wide, and I felt kinda guilty about making a man that hot lose his composure.

Apparently unaware of my inappropriate thoughts, Warin wrapped his hand around my jaw, squishing my cheeks and trapping my gaze with his once more. “Liv. I am far stronger than you—far faster, and far more durable. You are too fragile to get between a vampire and a wooden steak, and you will never again defend one of my kind with your own life. Do you understand?”

It felt as if magnets deep in his sparkling blue eyes pulled on me, making me woozy and my thoughts foggy. I blinked, trying to clear my head before I gently reached up to free my face from his grasp.

“Look, I appreciate the sentiment and all, but let’s be honest here. Yeah, I don’t have super speed, and while I’ve never tried, I’m pretty sure I can’t kick a door in. But. I can lift a silver bracelet, and I don’t have any wood allergies, so please calm your tits with all your macho bullshit, a’ight?”

Warin stared at me for another drawn-out moment. Then his eyes crinkled at the corners and his deep laughter rumbled through the room.

It was such an unexpected sound from the otherwise stoic vampire, I narrowly caught my rampant hormones before they galloped off on a tangent about his gorgeous face again. He might have been sexy as sin, and I might have felt feel inexplicably calm in his company, now that I was relatively sure he wasn’t gonna eat me, but I so wasn’t going there.

Plus, at twenty-seven, I was way too old to crush on a guy who’d inevitably get carded every time he went out to a bar—undead or not.

“Can vampires drink alcohol?” I asked, frowning at the idea of Warin in a bar. My paranormal romance novels had plenty of broody nightwalkers hanging out at college bars, sipping whiskey and trawling for dinner.

Warin hummed, but didn’t answer. He peered into my eyes, his own alight with curiosity as if he was looking for something—like I was some intricate puzzle, and if he just searched long enough, he’d find the missing piece.

I bit my lip and tried to return his gaze, but my hormones were harder to control while maintaining eye contact. It didn’t take long before I began to fidget on the bed, wishing he’d get bored soon.

“My apologies—you must be tired,” Warin said, finally breaking his one-sided staring contest with a soft sigh. “I have a guest room made up, if you would like to sleep here. I’ll have someone drive you home when you wake up.”

Sleep in a house filled with vampires? Uh, thanks but no thanks.

“I think I’d better get home.” I got up from the bed and stretched.

“Of course.” He followed me up, but kept a more socially acceptable distance than when he’d stared into my eyes. “I’ll have Edward take you.”

“Uh, is he… human?” I grimaced. “No offense.”

“Yes. You will be in safe hands—I promise.”

I smiled at his earnest tone. “Thank you, Warin—for everything.” I flashed him a grin. “And for not eating me.”

“Meeting you was a pleasure, Liv.” He took my hand between both of his, squeezing it briefly before he released his grip and walked to the door, opening it. “Be safe.”





6





Three months later





“The thing about witches is that there’re so many colors in the world. What’s so great about black? Black candles, black clothes, black nail polish… black, black, black! How about you try summoning spirits with a nice pink candle? Might attracts a less sour disposition!”

I snorted into my rum and Coke at my colleague’s animated rant across the table from me. The four of us—me, Skye, Raven, and our boss, Dennis—had captured a booth in one of the more popular alternative bars for our delayed annual “company party.” It was supposed to have been on Halloween, but working in a popular New Age shop meant October had been too busy.

Instead, Dennis had taken his three employees out the first Friday of November, and we were definitely on our way to becoming well and truly sloshed—which was typically when the bitching about our somewhat eccentric clientele began. I’d only been with Dark Dreams for about four months, but it was my favorite job by far, in large part due to my colleagues. They were the closest thing I’d had to friends in a very long time.

“Aw, come on, Skye—if it wasn’t for moody teenagers and their love of all things black, Dennis wouldn’t have been able to mark up the last shipment of alter cloth, and then we’d have had to pay for our own drinks tonight. We’re practically drinking the tears of rebellious teenagers.” I grinned at the blonde. “Very thematic.”