I all but melt into him as he nibbles his way down my neck. “My sweet, dove.” His lips ghost over my pulse point. My breathing grows choppy. Retracing his journey back up my neck with his tongue, he returns to my lips. When we’re together like this, nothing else exists. His tongue slips between my lips, and I press my chest against his. A growl in the back of his throat sends vibrations straight through my body.
We adjust our heads, deepening the lip lock. I lose myself in the irresistible combination of French toast and him. His clever mouth sets my body ablaze with desire. Heart pounding in my chest, I suck air into my aching lungs. He helps me maneuver my body to straddle his lap.
I meet his glowing amber eyes before our lips reattach. Our tongues circle lazily. I grind into his lap, and his breath catches. I smirk. It’s a game of dare between us. Pushing buttons, we play to see who can outlast the other.
His fangs skim against my lip. May I? I ignore the voice telling me to say no. Yes. A sharp pain follows, and we both groan. We take turns sucking the wounds, mingling our blood. Hunger wakes inside of me. Power surges. My level in my magical well skyrockets.
A throat clears. Pots and pans rattle, and the dish clatters onto the counter. I groan as we pull apart, resting our foreheads together.
“Don’t stop on our account,” Marcellus drawls.
“How long until our next vacation?” I whisper, thinking of the enchanted two weeks we’d taken off from everything over six months ago.
“Too long.” Cristobal clears his throat. “I assume you have a good reason for interrupting us.”
“There’s a coffin out front. Does that qualify as a semi-emergency?” Marcellus asks.
“Oh, that’s mine.”
“You’re taking this vampire kink thing to a whole new level, huh?” Luz says.
“What? No. It’s for a new case I’m taking on.” I wiggle free, and hop down from Cristobal’s lap, kissing his cheek before I head toward the front door. Duty calls.
Chapter Two
The laboratory is a blast from the past complete with bunsen burners, candles, and slate-topped workstations. It looks more like a mad scientist’s playground than our forensic headquarters. Dressed smartly in a pair of black slacks, and a white labcoat, Miles is every inch the professional. He’s tamed his chestnut curls with a shortcut and a side part. I’m proud of his conversion from absentminded librarian to the brilliant scientist. Since we’ve started to give him cases to work on, he’s downright gleeful. Minds like his require constant engagement.
“What exactly am I looking for?” Miles asks. He glances down at the modern microscope that blends seamlessly with the mix of old and new he’s merged in his space. I never appreciated his past as much as I have recently. A scholar, he was at the forefront of medical procedures in his time, which makes him the perfect lab tech.
While his methods may be outdated, his results aren’t. Given his voracity for knowledge, he’ll be caught up with the modern techniques and procure better equipment in no time. There are no limits to what an inexhaustible amount of money can do. Vampirism brings out the best and worst qualities a person possesses, exaggerating them until they’re a new individual with hints of the old.
“Honestly, I’m not sure, and I don’t want to sway you in any particular direction.” I hold my hands up. “So I’ll let you do what you do best.”
“After observing the coffin, I can already tell you they took the body. The angles of the breaks in the wood and the lack of skin and hair don’t fit with her breaking out. Someone or something definitely broke in to get her. I’ll be matching the skin cells I’ve recovered against the ones on the lining, and then we’ll see what we come up with. They smell different, and they look different, but I need to do a more in-depth analysis before I make any conclusions.”
I can almost hear the gears in his head grinding together as they spin.
“Once you’ve isolated the samples, I may be able to work some magic. Right now, everything’s too jumbled together. I wouldn’t be able to get a clean reading.” As convenient as magic is, everything has its limitations, and my powers aren’t exempt from that rule of nature.
It’s drilled into every young witch’s head that each choice we make has a consequence, and what we send out comes back at least twice or thrice fold. It’s a built-in check and balance system. I have to admit, it works for the most part.
“I’ll put a rush on it.”
“Thank you, Miles.” I pat his shoulder and step back to let him focus. I’m proud of the way my court has come together like a puzzle with intricately carved pieces. We’re learning how we fit to connect as one moving part. Vampires and witches never vibed. Witches worship nature, and by their very definition vampires are unnatural.
“I’ll be in the library with the girls.” Slipping out of the lab, I make my way toward the front end of the home. The house used to feel too big, and now its just walls, like any other. I admire the high ceilings originally meant to trap hot air. The ornate ceiling medallions done in shades of red and gold remind me of Cristobal’s heritage. There’s a hint of his origins spread throughout the building if you know what you’re looking for.
It’s the touches of personality that helped ensnare me in the first place. He wears humanity better than most vampires I’ve met. The time and the changes mentally and physically take some of them too far away from the people they once were. Others prefer to forget. The change can be a desperate decision made in an attempt to escape an unbearable life. Many a reinvention was made on the back of an undead life. Kings, queens, mercenaries, and more have ascended from the ashes with a clever backstory and powers that bent the human brain and willpower.
Door capstones and moldings add to the grand environment, boasting craftsmanship and history. They painstakingly refurbished the home with original materials and skilled labor. Colorful art brightens up the deep ocean blue walls along with the ornate pineapple-shaped wall scones. From the thick textured glass warped to mimic the outer shell of the fruit to the spiky iron worked tops, the pieces are miniature masterpieces. I run my fingers over the beveled glass as I pass, pausing to enter the library. The house is a riot of colors. The walls here are a cool gray that contrasts with the dark wood of the bookshelves.
Sacha’s blondish brown curls obscure her face as she bends over the table. The cook left a colorful array of finger sandwiches, scones, pastries, and soup served on a three-tier serving platter. The traditional high tea is mouthwatering.
Three sets of tea cups and saucers accompany a matching teapot, sugar bowl, and creamer cup. We don’t do anything in halves in the Cortez Court. The china tea set with a ring of turquoise and tiny pink and green flowers is probably the same age as the house itself.
Felicite looks up from her laptop and offers me a small smile. Her dark hair falls around her round face in a shiny black bob. “The tea’s still warm. You’ll want caffeine for this.”
“It’s that bad?” I take a seat on the opposite side of the girls.