Samhain (Matilda Kavanagh Book 2) (12 page)

Fletcher laughed lightly and stepped back to give me a little breathing room, putting his hands up in front of him. “Sorry. I was just leaning in to say hello. Didn’t mean to give you a heart attack.”

“Yeah, no, right,” I said quickly. I slid sideways until I could walk around him without coming too close. Once past him, I hurried into the kitchen to give my spells a quick stir. I needed something to do with my hands. I plucked out three African violets and added them to Fox’s healing potion.

“I just came by to see how you were,” Fletcher said as he walked into the kitchen.

He was taking slow, deliberate steps, and I realized he was trying to be careful not to scare me again. I closed my eyes and silently berated myself for acting like such a huge spaz. The potions were simmering happily and didn’t really need any tending at this point, so I turned away from the stove to face him. Fletcher was leaning a hip against the counter, his arms crossed over his narrow chest. His brows were high, almost disappearing under the fringe of hair.

Yeah, he thought I was acting crazy. Go me.

The psychic’s voice echoed in my head. I tried to beat it back, force it into a box in my mind and lock it away, but it wouldn’t stop. I took a breath and said, “I’m pretty good, I guess.” I hoped talking would drown out that voice.

“I saw you coming out of the Bite with that Were. I was gonna flag you down, but I couldn’t break away from my friends in time to catch you.”

“Friends, huh? Like Georgie?” I didn’t mean to say it, and I definitely didn’t mean it to sound so catty. I hadn’t liked the raccoon-eyed, newly
turned
vamp girl.

“No.” Fletcher chuckled. “Not Georgie. Just some of the guys.”

“Sorry.” I held up my hand and tried to wave away the comment. “I don’t know what that was. Just ignore me.”
Sounded a bit like jealousy, and you know it.

Fletcher stared at me as if trying to puzzle out something on my face. I felt the creeping fingers of heat crawling across my cheeks, so I turned toward the fridge to hide my face.

“Wine?” I asked, opening the door and grabbing a half-empty bottle of some red blend.

“Sure,” he said slowly.

I pulled out two glasses, walked past him to the table, and set everything down, trying not to drop the glasses on the new tile floor. With a shaking hand, I pulled the cork out of the bottle and poured the wine into both glasses, over filling them until the bottle was empty.

Fletcher came to my side, sliding off his coat. I grabbed it and took it into the living room to toss it over the couch. When I came back, he was already sitting, one foot resting on the opposite knee. The mesh shirt turned out to have long, solid black sleeves that came down an inch over his hands, almost making it look as though he was wearing gloves.

“Mattie?” Fletcher asked, snapping his fingers.

I had been staring at his hands. “Sorry.” I put a hand to my forehead and rubbed. “I’ve had a long, weird night.”

“Well then sit, drink with me,” he said, pulling out the adjacent chair for me.

It was a little closer to him than I wanted to be, but if I moved away, it would be totally obvious, and I’d already made an ass out of myself. “Thanks.” I fell into the chair and reached for my glass. The wine was too cold and a little bitter. I grimaced as I swallowed, but I knew it would start to taste better as I drank more.

“We need to get you a wine fridge,” Fletcher said, grimacing as well.

“Sorry. I seem to be saying that a lot.”

“You do,” he agreed with a nod. “Want to tell me about this ‘long, weird night’?”

“Not really,” I answered honestly. There was just no way in the seven hells that I would tell him a gypsy psychic had told me Fletcher could possibly be a wonderful love affair that would bring me happiness, unlike my relationship with Owen.

“Fair enough. Well, if you don’t want to share, I guess I could get the ball rolling. I’m moving out of the lair.”

I blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, swirling his wine slowly. It formed a tiny vortex.

“Why?” I sipped my wine, staring at him over the rim of the glass. One of the main reasons I’d sworn off vampires was because of the hold their master, or in this case mistress, had over them. But if Fletcher moved out of the lair, then he wouldn’t be living directly under Theo. That was one big point in his favor.

“I moved in there when I was newly made because I had someplace safe to live, you know?” He paused to take a sip of his wine. He continued as he stared into the glass, watching the wine move. “But I’ve never really liked living there.”

“Why?” That seemed to be the only question I was capable of.

“Well, there’s that whole sex-club thing Theo’s got going on,” he said, lifting his brown eyes to look at me.

“You don’t like that?”

“No.” His brows drew together and he shook his head, as if it was ridiculous to think anyone could like that part of the lair. It was full of pain and blood and voyeurism, which was all just a little too much for me.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I said, cupping my glass between both hands, hoping my body heat would make the wine a little more palatable. “I just thought it would be something that most vamps would enjoy, you know? Willing blood donors who enjoy a little pain with their sex? Seems like a home run for you guys.”

“Not for all of us,” he said.

“So why give up your apartment just for that?”

“Living in the lair is rent-free, but that just means you don’t have to pay Theo any money to live there.”

“But you do have to pay her something?”

Fletcher nodded.

“You have to participate in the club?”

“Yes,” he said simply before taking a big gulp of wine.

I felt a little sick. The wine was sour on my tongue, but I didn’t put down the glass. I couldn’t imagine being forced to participate in sex acts that I found abhorrent. It would be a violation, a horrible violation. “I had no idea.”

“Neither did I when I first moved in.” He slumped back in his chair, resting his head on the back so he could look at the ceiling. “When I was a pet, waiting to be
turned
, Andy took me to the club. Back then, when I was a stupid kid who didn’t know better, I thought it was great, you know? I wanted to participate; I wanted to do the things that Andy wanted me to do. But the better you get at performing, especially after you’re
turned
, you get moved further and further into the club, and it’s not so fun anymore.”

I remembered the second level of the club, with its sterile rooms with chains and restraints on the walls. The toys there looked more like torture devices, and the rooms had drains in the floors. A shudder racked my body.

“Exactly,” Fletcher said.

I really didn’t want to think of Fletcher in those rooms, bleeding out humans whether they were willing or not. I couldn’t think of this bright-eyed, sweet-faced guy who still had the spark of life in him, in those dark, horror-filled rooms. I couldn’t imagine him trying to make people scream just so he could keep a roof over his head. Sitting at my table staring at him, I just wanted to make that pained look on his face disappear.

Maybe it was the wine growing warm in my belly or maybe it was the suggestion planted by the psychic, but I found the courage to take Fletcher’s hand. His fingers were cold but dry, and I gave them a gentle squeeze. Fletcher looked at me, his warm eyes tracing the lines of my face before resting on my lips. I found myself staring at his lips as well. They were darker than I remembered and had a very pretty shape. For a moment, I wondered what they tasted like.

I closed my eyes and drew my hand away, taking a deep breath through my nose and holding it until my head was clear again. “So do you think Theo will just let you leave?” My voice was a little rough.

It took a moment for Fletcher to catch up with my question, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his head.

When he’d gathered himself, he said, “Sure, I’m not in her inner circle or one of her pets. She doesn’t care when the lower vampires come and go.”

“Oh.” The image of Theo wrapped around Owen as she glared at me flashed in my mind. Of course I had fallen for one of the vamps who belonged to the megalomaniac Vampire Mistress of the county. I couldn’t have chosen someone like Fletcher, who could come and go as he pleased without suffering the wrath of the great-and-powerful Theo. No, I always had to take the hard way.

“You’re thinking about Owen,” Fletcher said, catching me off guard.

I stared at him.

“Your scent changed,” he said. “You went from concern and worry over me to something bitter and angry.”

“So why would you assume that meant I was thinking about Owen?” I asked, trying to figure out how to change my scent at will.

“Whenever you talk about him, your scent changes to that,” Fletcher said.

“Interesting.” I took another sip of my wine. It was warmer now and the taste sweeter. My vision was a little softer too.

“What do you mean, ‘interesting’?”

“I mean that I find it interesting that when I speak of or think of the man I’m supposed to love, my scent turns bitter and sour.” I drained my glass in one large swallow.

A tiny drop of wine dripped out of the corner of my mouth, and before I could wipe it away, Fletcher’s thumb was there, his fingers curled under my chin. I froze, my eyes level with his. I knew it was the wine, but I was fascinated by the fact that his high, sharp cheekbones appeared softer. His thumb brushed close to my mouth as he caught the drip of wine, and I almost, almost pursed my lips to touch that soft thumb.

I watched him press his thumb to his own lips, licking away the drop of wine. I didn’t remember doing it, but I was leaning forward, closer to Fletcher. The brown of his eyes shifted, a golden light coming to life within their depths, even as his pupils grew and pulled me into the black.

Fletcher leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. His face was so close to mine that I could smell the musky scent of his cologne. I had never noticed his cologne before. It was nice. Fletcher inched closer. His knee brushed mine, then his cheek was next to mine. If I turned my face, I could have brushed my lips against his skin. But I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. All I could do was wait and hope.

“Now,” he whispered, his lips painfully close to my ear and the heat of his breath along my neck, “when you think about me”—his hand touched mine, his fingers tracing a slow, circular design on my palm—“you smell sweet.”

He turned his face toward mine and pressed his surprisingly warm lips to my cheek. I closed my eyes, trying to memorize the shape of his lips against my skin. His fingers slipped from my hand as he stood. Before I could open my eyes again, he was across the room, picking up his coat and swinging it around to slip his arms through the sleeves.

I pressed my hands to my cheeks, trying to gather my senses before I stood. When I got to my feet, the room shifted and I had to hold on the chair to keep my balance. When I could walk straight, I moved to the front door to undo the locks and lift the freezing spell. I stepped back, holding the door for Fletcher and trying desperately to look anywhere but at his face and those inviting eyes of his.

I thought he would just walk out without another word, but he stopped in front of me and took my hand. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the heel of my palm. I watched it all as if I was outside my body, floating over the scene and unable to speak, unable to do anything.

“I’m glad you’re doing okay,” he said. “Maybe I can come by and see you again? Hopefully sometime soon?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, not nearly as smooth and self-assured as Fletcher.

But he didn’t tease me about it. Instead he smiled at me, the glowing light in his eyes fading before he turned and headed down the hall.

Chapter 9

I sat at my kitchen table with a cooling cup of coffee in my hands. My eyes were starting to burn, and when I squinted at the clock over the stove, the red numbers were blurry. I finished brewing a little less than an hour ago and I was desperate to go to bed, but I had one last appointment to deal with. Edwin had said he’d be at my apartment at seven a.m., and he struck me as the kind of guy who was pretty literal. So when the clock clicked over from six fifty-nine to seven o’clock, the gentle knock at the door didn’t surprise me. I pushed away from the table, grabbed the two vials of potions, and went to answer the door.

Edwin was in a crisp navy suit, low profile glasses, and had a black messenger bag slung over his right shoulder. In his left hand was a large, steaming cup of Starbucks coffee, and in his right hand was his phone, his thumb racing over the keys. His jet-black hair was slicked back, exposing his high forehead, and when I opened the door, his thin black brows lifted.

“Good morning, Ms. Kavanagh,” Edwin said with a nod.

“Yeah, sure.” I stepped back and waved him inside.

Edwin finished his text and locked the screen on his phone before tucking it into his bag. “I’m sorry?” He turned his confused face toward me.

I waved off the comment. It wasn’t worth repeating. “Here you go. Thanks for the extra time.” I held out the two vials. One was a faint, clear blue and the other was a dark green.

Edwin stepped closer and peered at the potions, touching his glasses to push them up the bridge of his nose. “How do these work?”

“This one”—I held up the clear blue potion—“is the healing potion. He just drinks it, no biggie. This one?” I held up the darker, less pleasant looking one. “He’ll need to add three drops of his blood and then give it to the girl.”

“I see,” Edwin said with a sniff.

“Yes, you have to make him add his blood. It won’t work if the focusing object is missing. And listen,” I said, pulling my hand back as Edwin reached for the vials. “He can’t slip it to her in another liquid, okay? He’s gotta give it to her in a straight shot. If you add anything else, you’ll compromise the molecular structure and change the potion and ruin it. Got it?”

Edwin nodded. “Got it.”

“I’m serious,” I warned. “It’s a one-shot deal. Fox tries anything funny and it won’t work, and I don’t give refunds.”