“You don’t remember last night?”
“You drank from me.” She lifts her wrist and runs slender fingers over the unmarred skin. “Then, I leaned down to drink from you, but—” Her brow furrows. “That’s all I remember.”
“You passed out,” I tell her. “After tasting my blood.”
“I passed out?”
“Yes. You looked up at me, and your eyes were black…completely.”
Her heart rate increases along with her panic. “They were black?”
I nod. “They’re not anymore.”
“I don’t understand. They shouldn’t have been black. Not yet.”
“You’re counting on them turning ebony?”
“It’s a natural progression with the dark magic. But I only absorbed it last night; it shouldn’t be affecting me this way. Not yet.”
Could it have been her reaction to my blood?
“It might have been,” she replies, and I realize I voiced my concern out loud. “But I don’t know for sure.” She pushes up to her feet, so I stand as well, leaning back against the countertop.
“You feel okay now?”
“I do. Sorry you slept on the floor.”
“I’m fine.” Now that I’ve uttered those two words, all I can think about is rolling my stiff shoulders to ease the ache of having my back propped against a hard cabinet all night.
“Coffee?” The word is so casual coming from her after last night that I have to do a double-take to make sure I’m not still dreaming.
Her carefree attitude combined with seeing her bared legs bathed in the sunlight streaming in from my still open balcony doors is torment to a man thirsty for her body. “Go for it.” I gesture to the coffee maker in the corner and the arrangement of flavored bags in the holder to the side.
It’s one of the more human habits of mine.
I am a coffee addict. A caffeine fiend. Even if it does very little to actually give me energy, given my body’s faster than normal metabolism.
“What are you planning to do today?” I ask her.
“Figure out where I can find Lucy.”
“You’re going to go after her?” I cross my arms and watch her as she prepares a pot of coffee, then presses the brew button and turns to face me.
“The sooner I can find her, the better. And the sooner I can get this magic out of me, the better for the both of us.”
“I’m not disagreeing with you,” I say. “But don’t you think you need to take a moment and figure out exactly what it is your plan consists of? I can almost guarantee she’s not just going to allow you to walk in—dark magic and all—and kill her.”
Bronywyn bites down on her bottom lip as she considers. It’s sexy as fuck. “I’ll think of something.” She glances down. “But I will need actual clothes. Can you go to my house and get some things for me? I don’t want Delaney tracking me down just yet.”
“Why don’t you just talk to her?” If I can get her to confront the witch, maybe she’ll be able to help me ease Bronywyn into realizing that there has to be another way. I promised her I wouldn’t talk her out of it—and I plan to keep that promise—but I never said anything about gentle coercion and manipulation if it means keeping her alive.
“I’m not going near Delaney until Lucy is out of the picture.”
“Why not? She wants to stop her, too.”
“Because she’s going to do everything she can to talk me into trying to purge the dark magic before I’m ready.”
“Delaney wants you safe,” I tell her. “We all do.”