Immediately Ceri stood. "That's not necessary."
Ire flickered in Ivy's eyes. "I know it's not necessary."
Ivy's plate of steaming cookies hit the desktop before me in a harsh clatter. My eyebrows rose, and I swung my feet to the floor. Ivy wanted to talk to Ceri aloneabout me. Bothered, I tapped my fingernails in a sharp staccato. "I'm not eating those," I said flatly.
"It's medicinal, Rachel," she said, her voice heavy with threat.
"It's Brimstone, Ivy," I shot back. Ceri shifted from foot to foot in obvious discomfort, but I didn't care. "I can't believe you gave me Brimstone," I added. "I arrest people who do Brimstone; I don't share rent with them." I was not going to tag Ivy. I didn't care if she broke every law in the I.S. handbook. Not this time.
Ivy's stance went aggressive, her hip cocked and her lips almost bloodless. "It's medicinal," she said sharply. "It's specially processed and the amount of stimulant in it is so low you can't even smell it. You can't smell Brimstone, can you? Can you?"
The ring of brown about her pupils had shrunk, and I dropped my gaze, not wanting to trip her into pulling an aura. Not now, with the sun almost down. "There was enough in it to jerk the bane into play," I said sullenly.
Ivy, too, calmed, knowing she had reached her limits. "That wasn't my fault," she said softly. "I never gave you enough to even trigger a Brimstone dog."
Ceri raised her narrow chin. There was no remorse in her green eyes. "I apologized for that," she said tightly. "I didn't know it was illegal. It wasn't the last time I gave it to someone."
"See?" Ivy said, gesturing to Ceri. "She didn't know, and that insurance guy was only trying to help. Now shut up, eat your cookies, and stop making us feel bad. You've got a run tomorrow and you need your strength."
Leaning back in my swivel chair, I pushed the plate of vamp cookies away. I wasn't going to eat them. I didn't care that what I had kept down yesterday had upped my metabolism so my black eye was already turning yellow and my cut lip was healed. "I'm fine."
Ivy's usually placid face clouded over. "Fine," she said sharply.
"Fine," I shot back, crossing my legs and turning so I was eyeing her askance.
Ivy's jaw clenched. "Ceri, I'll walk you home."
Ceri glanced between us. Face empty of emotion, she bent to get her teapot and cup. "I'll take care of my dishes first," she said.
"I can do that," I rushed to say, but Ceri shook her head, watching her feet so as not to spill as she made her way to the kitchen. I frowned, not liking her doing domestic work. It was too much like what I imagined Algaliarept had forced on her.
"Let her do it," Ivy said when the sound of Ceri's steps ended. "It makes her feel useful."
"She's royalty," I said. "You do know that, don't you?"
Ivy glanced into the dark hallway as the sound of running water filtered out. "Maybe a thousand years ago. Now she's nothing, and she knows it."
I made a puff of air. "Don't you have any compassion? Doing my dishes is degrading."
"I have a lot of compassion." A flicker of anger set Ivy's thin eyebrows high. "But the last time I looked, there weren't any openings for princesses in the want ads. What is she supposed to do to give her life meaning? There aren't any treaties for her to make, no rulings to judge, and her biggest decision is to have eggs or waffles for breakfast. There's no way to give herself a feeling of worth with her old royalty crap. And doing dishes isn't degrading."
I leaned back in my chair in a show of acquiescence. She was right, but I didn't like it. "So you have a run?" I prompted when the silence stretched.
Ivy sent one shoulder up and down. "I'm going to talk to Jenks."
"Good." I met her eyes, relieved. Something we could talk about without arguing. "I stopped at that Were's house this afternoon. The poor guy wouldn't let me in. The pixy girls had been at him. His hair was solid cornrows." I had woken up one morning with my hair braided into the fringe of my afghan. Matalina had made them apologize, but it took me forty minutes to untangle myself. I would give just about anything to wake up like that again.
"Yeah, I saw him," Ivy said, and I sat up from my slouch.
"You've been over there?" I asked, watching Ivy get her coat from the foyer and return. She slipped it on, the short leather jacket making a soft hush of silk against silk.
"I've been over there twice," she said. "The Were won't let me in, either, but one of my friends is taking him out on a date so Jenks will have to answer the door, the little prick. Typical little man. He has an ego the size of the Grand Canyon."
I chucked, and Ceri came in from the back. Her borrowed coat was over her arm and the shoes that Keasley bought her were in her grip. I wasn't going to tell her to put them on. She could walk in the snow barefoot as far as I was concerned. Ivy, though, gave her a pointed look.
"You going to be all right for a while?" Ivy asked as Ceri dropped her shoes to the floor and snugged her feet into them.
"Good God," I muttered, twisting the chair back and forth. "I'll be fine."
"Stay on holy ground," she added as she gestured for Ceri to head out. "Don't tap a line. Eat your cookies."
"Not going to happen, Ivy," I said. Pasta. I wanted pasta in alfredo sauce. That's what Nick had cooked up for me the last time Ivy was bent on shoving these things down my throat. I couldn't believe she'd been slipping me Brimstone. Yes, I could.
"I'll call you in about an hour to make sure you're all right."
"I won't answer," I said, irritated. "I'm going to take a nap." I stood and stretched until my sweater and halter top rose to show my belly button. It would have gotten a wolf whistle from Jenks, and the silence in the rafters was depressing.
Ceri came forward with her cushion to give me a hug good-bye. It startled me, and I hesitantly returned it. "Rachel can take care of herself," she said proudly. "She's been holding enough ever-after to blow a hole in the roof for the last five minutes and has forgotten about it."
"Holy crap!" I exclaimed, feeling my face warm. "I am, aren't I!"
Ivy sighed as she strode to the church's front door. "Don't wait up for me," she called over her shoulder. "I'm having dinner with my folks and won't be home until after sunup."
"You should let it go," Ceri said as she edged after Ivy. "At least when the sun is down. Someone else might summon him, and if they don't banish him properly, he'll come looking for you. He might try to knock you out by adding to what you're holding now." She shrugged in a very modern gesture. "But if you stay on holy ground, you should be all right."
"I'll let it go," I said absently, my thoughts whirling.
Ceri smiled shyly. "Thank you, Rachel," she said softly. "It's good to feel needed."
I jerked my attention back to her. "You're welcome."
The scent of cold snow filtered in. I looked up seeing Ivy standing impatiently in the threshold of the open door, the fading light making her a threatening silhouette in tight leather. " 'By-y-y-y-ye, Rachel," she prompted mockingly, and Ceri sighed.
Turning, the slender woman made her unhurried way to the door, kicking off her shoes at the last moment and going barefoot out onto the icy cement steps.
"How can you stand the cold?" I heard Ivy say before the door shut behind them.
I soaked in the silence and the dusky light. Reaching over, I clicked off the desk lamp and it seemed to brighten outside. I was alonefor what was probably the first timein my church. No roommate, no boyfriend, no pixies. Alone. My eyes closed, and I sat on the slightly raised stage and breathed. I could smell plywood over the almond scent of Ivy's stupid cookies. A soft pressure behind my eyes reminded me I was still holding that ball of ever-after, and with a nudge of my will, I broke the three-dimensional circle in my thoughts and the energy flowed back to the line in a warm wash.
I opened my eyes and headed for the kitchen, my sock feet soundless. I wasn't going to take a nap; I was going to make brownies as part of Ivy's present. There was no way I could compete with thousand-dollar perfume: I had to take the handmade-goodie track.
Detouring into the living room, I searched for the remote. The smell of plywood was almost an assault, and I glanced at the window Ivy had sketched on the panel, freehanding the view of the graveyard. I clicked on the stereo and Offspring's "Come Out and Play" spilled out. Grinning, I cranked it. "Wake the dead," I said, tossing the remote and dancing into the kitchen.
While the bouncy music lured me into a better mood, I pulled out my dented spell pot, which I couldn't use for spelling anymore, and the recipe book I had swiped from my mom. Thumbing through it, I found Grandma's fudgy brownie recipe penciled in beside the gourmet recipe that tasted like cardboard. Timing my motions with the music, I got out the eggs, sugar, vanilla, and dumped them on the center island counter. I had the chocolate chips melting on the stove and the evaporated milk measured out when the air shifted and the front door slammed. The egg in my hand slipped, cracking as it hit the counter.
"Forget something, Ivy?" I shouted. Adrenaline stabbed through me as my gaze went from the broken egg to everything scattered over the kitchen. I'd never get it hidden before she made it back here. Couldn't that woman stay away for even an hour?
But it was Kisten's voice that answered.
Twenty-one
"It's me, Rachel," Kisten called, his voice faint over the music blaring from the living room. I froze, the memory of the kiss he'd given me keeping me where I stood. I must have looked like an idiot when he turned the corner and stopped in the threshold.
"Ivy's not here?" he said, his eyes giving me the onceover. "Shoot."
I took a breath to settle myself. "Shoot?" I questioned, sliding the cracked egg off the counter and into the bowl. I didn't think anyone said shoot anymore.
"Can I say shit?"
"Hell, yes."
"Shit, then." His gaze went from me to the kitchen, lacing his hands behind his back as I picked the bigger chunks of shell out.
"Hey, would you, ah, turn the music down for me?" I said, sneaking a glance at him when he nodded and walked out. It was Saturday, and he was dressed casually in leather boots and faded jeans that were nice and tight. His short leather coat was open, and a burgundy silk shirt showed a wisp of chest hair. Just enough, I thought as the music softened. I could smell his coat. I was a sucker for the scent of leather. This might be a problem.
"Are you sure Ivy didn't send you over to baby-sit?" I questioned as he returned and I wiped the egg slime off on a damp dishcloth.
He chuckled and sat in Ivy's chair. "No." He hesitated. "Is she going to be gone for a while, or can I wait?"
I didn't look up from the recipe, not liking how he had said that. There had been more inquiry in his voice than the question warranted. "Ivy went to talk to Jenks." I ran my finger down the page without looking at the words. "Then she's having dinner with her folks."
"Sunup," he murmured, and I felt my warning flags go up. All of them.
The clock above the sink ticked, and I took the melted chocolate off the stove. I wasn't about to stand with my back to him, so I set it on the counter between us, crossing my arms in front of me and putting my backside against the sink. Watching me, he tossed his hair out of his eyes. I took a breath to tell him to go, but he interrupted.
"Are you all right?"
I stared blankly at him, then remembered. "Oh! The demonthing," I muttered, embarrassed as I touched the pain charms about my neck. "You heard about that, huh?"
He smiled with half his mouth. "You made the news. And I had to listen to Ivy for three solid hours while she bitched about not being here at the time."
Going back to my recipe, I rolled my eyes. "Sorry. Yeah. I'm okay. A few scrapes and bruises. Nothing major. But I can't tap a line after sundown anymore." I didn't want to tell him I wasn't entirely safe after dark either, unless I was on holy groundwhich the kitchen and living room weren't. "It's really going to put a crimp in my runs," I said sourly, wondering how I was going to get around this latest mountain. Oh well. It wasn't as if I relied on ley line magic. I was an earth witch after all.
Kisten didn't seem to think it mattered much either, if his casual shrug meant anything. "I'm sorry to hear Jenks left," he said, stretching his legs out and crossing his boots at his ankles. "He was more than an asset to your company. He's a good friend."
My face screwed up into an unpleasant expression. "I should have told him what Trent was when I figured it out."
Surprise cascaded over him. "You know what Trent Kalamack is? No shit?"
Jaw clenched, I dropped my eyes to the recipe book and nodded, waiting for him to ask it.
"What is he?"
I stayed silent, my eyes fixed on the page. The soft sound of him moving pulled my gaze up.
"Never mind," he said. "It doesn't matter."
Relieved, I gave the chocolate a clockwise stir. "It matters to Jenks. I should have trusted him."
"Not everyone needs to know everything."
"You do if you're four inches tall with wings."
He got up, drawing my attention as he stretched. With a soft, satisfied sound, his shoulders eased and he collapsed in on himself. Taking his coat off, he headed to the fridge.
I tapped the spoon on the side to flick most of the chocolate off. My brow furrowed. Sometimes it was easier to talk to a stranger. "What am I doing wrong, Kisten?" I said, frustrated. "Why do I drive the people I like away?"
He came out from behind the fridge door with the bag of almonds I'd bought last week. "Ivy's not leaving."
"Those are mine," I said, and he paused until I gestured sourly that he could have them.
"I'm not leaving," he added, mouth gently moving as he ate one.
I exhaled noisily, dumping the measured sugar into the chocolate. He looked really good over there, and memories kept intruding: thoughts of us dressed up and enjoying ourselves, the spark his black eyes drew through me when Saladan's heavies lay broken in the street, Piscary's elevator with me wrapped around him wanting to feel him taking everything I had.
The crunch of the sugar against the pan was loud as I stirred. Damn vamp pheromones.
"I'm glad Nick left," Kisten said. "He wasn't good for you."
I kept my head down, but my shoulders tensed. "What do you know about it?" I said, tucking a long red curl behind my ear. I looked up, finding him calmly eating my almonds. "Nick made me feel good. I made him feel good. We had fun together. We liked the same movies, the same places to eat. He could keep up with me when we ran at the zoo. Nick was a good person, and you have no right to pass judgment on him." I snatched a damp dishcloth, wiping up my spilled sugar and shaking it into the sink.
"You may be right," he said as he jiggled a handful of nuts into his palm and rolled the bag shut. "But I find one thing fascinating." He put a nut between his teeth and crunched through it noisily. "You put him in the past tense."
My mouth dropped open. Torn between anger and shock, my face went cold. In the living room, the music changed to something fast and bouncyand totally inappropriate.
Kisten cracked the fridge open, set the nuts back into the door, and closed it. "I'll wait for Ivy for a while. She might come back with Jenksif you're lucky. You have a tendency to demand more of a person than most are willing to give." He shook the nuts still left in his hand as I sputtered. "Kind of like a vampire," he added as he picked up his coat and walked out.
My hand was dripping, and I realized I was squeezing the dishcloth so hard that water was seeping out. I threw it into the sink, furious and depressed. Not a good combination. From the living room, happy pop music bounced and skittered. "Will you turn that off!" I shouted. My jaw ached where I was clenching it, and I forced my teeth to part when the music stopped. Fuming, I measured out the sugar and dumped it in. I reached for the spoon, a sound of frustration coming from me as I remembered I had already added the sugar. "Damn it back to the Turn," I muttered. Now I'd have to make a double batch.
Spoon held tightly, I tried to stir it in. Sugar went everywhere, spilling over the edge. My teeth gritted, and I stomped back to the sink for the dishcloth.
"You don't know squat," I whispered as I scraped the spilled sugar into a little pile. "Nick might come back. He said he was. I have his key."
I pushed the gathered sugar into the cup of my hand, hesitating before I dumped it into the bowl with the rest. Brushing the last of the grit from my fingers, I looked at the dark hallway. Nick wouldn't give me his key if he wasn't coming back.
Music started up, soft with a steady beat. My eyes narrowed. I never said he could put something else in. Angry, I took a step toward the living room, then jerked to a halt. Kisten had left in the middle of a conversation. He had taken food with him. Crunchy food. According to Ivy's dating book, that was a vampiric invitation. And following him would be saying I was interested. Even worse, he knew I knew.
I was still staring at the hallway when Kisten walked past. He backpedaled to a stop as he saw me there with a blank look on my face.
"I'll wait in the sanctuary," he said. "Is that okay with you?"
"Sure," I whispered.
His eyebrows rose, and with that same little smile, he ate an almond. "Okay." Kisten vanished down the dark hallway, his boots silent on the hardwood floor.
I turned away and stared at the night-blackened window. I counted to ten. I counted to ten again. I counted to ten a third time, finding myself in the hallway by the time I reached seven. I'll go in, say my piece, and leave, I promised myself when I found him at the piano, his back to me as he sat on the bench. He pulled himself straight as my feet scuffed to a halt.
"Nick is a good man," I said, my voice shaking.
"Nick is a good man," he agreed, not turning around.
"He makes me feel wanted, needed."
Kisten slowly spun. His stubble caught the faint light filtering in from the street. The outline of his wide shoulders tapered down to his slim waist, and I mentally shook myself at how good he looked. "He used to." His low, smooth voice sent a shiver through me.
"I don't want you to talk about him anymore," I said.
He gazed at me for a heartbeat, then said, "Okay."
"Good." I took a quick breath, turned and walked out.
My knees were shaking, and listening for any steps behind me, I took a right into my room. Heart pounding, I reached for my perfume. The one that hid my scent.
"Don't."
Gasping, I turned, finding Kisten behind me. Ivy's bottle slipped from my fingers. His hand darted out, and I jumped as it enfolded mine, imprisoning the precious bottle safe within my grip. I froze. "I like the way you smell," he whispered, far, far too close.
My stomach clenched. I could risk bringing Al down on me by tapping a line to knock him unconscious, but I didn't want to. "You need to get out of my bedroom," I said.
His blue eyes looked black in the dim light. The faint glow from the kitchen made him an alluring, dangerous shadow. My shoulders were so tense they hurt as he opened my hand and took the perfume from me. The click as it hit my dresser jerked me straight. "Nick isn't coming back," he said, unaccusing and blunt.
My breath slipped from me, and I closed my eyes. Oh God. "I know."
My eyes jerked open when he took my elbows. I froze, waiting for my scar to flash into play, but it didn't. He wasn't trying to bespell me. A foolish part of me respected that, and like an idiot, I did nothing instead of telling him to get the hell out of my church and away from me.
"You need to be needed, Rachel," he said, inches away as his breath shifted my hair. "You live so brightly, so honestly, that you need to be needed. You're hurting. I can feel it."
"I know."
His solemn eyes took on a shade of pity. "Nick is human. No matter how he tries, he'll never understand you entirely."
"I know." I swallowed hard. There was a wet warmth in my eyes. My jaw tightened until my head hurt. I will not cry.
"He can't give you what you need." Kisten's hands slipped to my waist. "He'll always be just a little afraid."
I know. My eyes closed, opening as I let him pull me closer.
"And even if Nick learns to live with his fear," he said earnestly, his eyes asking me to listen, "he won't ever forgive you for being stronger than he is."
A lump formed in my throat. "II have to go," I said. "Excuse me."
His hands fell from me, and I pushed past him and into the hall. Confused and wanting to scream at the world, I strode into the kitchen. I stopped, seeing among the pots and flour a huge aching emptiness that had never been there before. Arms wrapped about myself, I lurched into the living room. I had to get the music off. It was beautiful. I hated it. I hated everything.
Snatching up the remote, I pointed it at the player. Jeff Buckley. I couldn't handle Jeff in the state I was in. Who in hell put Jeff Buckley in my player? Clicking it off, I tossed the remote to the couch. Adrenaline jerked me straight as the remote hit, not the suede of Ivy's couch, but someone's hand.
"Kisten!" I stammered as he turned the music back on, watching me with half-lidded eyes. "What are you doing?"
"Listening to music."
He was calm and wire-tight, and panic struck me at his calculating surety. "Don't sneak up on me like that," I said, my breath coming short. "Ivy never sneaks up on me."
"Ivy doesn't like who she is." His eyes were unblinking. "I do."
He reached out. Breath coming in a quick surge, I knocked his arm aside. Tension sang through me as he jerked me forward, holding me to him. Panic, then anger, flashed. There wasn't a twinge from my scar. "Kisten!" I exclaimed, trying to move. "Let me go!"
"I'm not trying to bite you," he said softly, his lips brushing my ear. "Stop it."
His voice was firm, soothing. There was no blood lust in it. My thoughts flashed back to waking up in his car to the sound of singing monks. "Let go!" I demanded, strung out and feeling like I was either going to hit him or start to cry.
"I don't want to. You're hurting too much. How long has it been since someone held you? Touched you?"
A tear leaked out and I hated that he saw it. Hated he knew I was holding my breath.
"You need to feel, Rachel." His voice grew soft, pleading. "This is killing you slowly."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. He was seducing me. I wasn't such an innocent that I knew he wouldn't try. But his hands upon my arms were warm. And he was right. I needed another's touch, ached for it, damn me to hell. I had almost forgotten how it felt to be needed. Nick had given that back to me, that tiny thrill of excitement knowing someone was wanting to touch you, wanting you and you alone to touch him.
I had endured more short-term relationships than a socialite has shoes. Either it was my I.S. job, or my wacko mother pushing for commitment, or that I attracted jerks who simply saw a redhead as a potential notch on their broomstick. Maybe I was a crazy bitch demanding trust without being able to give it. I didn't want another one-sided relationship, but Nick was gone and Kisten smelled good. He made me feel the pain less.
My shoulders eased, and he exhaled as he felt me stop fighting him. Eyes closing, I dropped my forehead into his shoulder as my folded arms made a small space between us. The music was soft and slow. I wasn't crazy. I could trust. I did trust. I had trusted Nick, and he had left.
"You'll leave," I breathed. "They all leave. They get what they want, and they leave. Or they find out what I can do, and then they leave."
His arms about me tightened for an instant, then relaxed. "I'm not going anywhere. You already scared the hell out of me when you took Piscary down." He buried his nose in my hair and breathed in my scent. "And I still am here."
Lulled by his body warmth and his touch, my tension tricked away. Kisten altered my balanceand I moved with him. Moving, hardly moving, our weight shifted as the slow and seductive music lured me into swaying with him.
"You can't hurt my pride," Kisten whispered, his fingers tracing the middle of my back. "I've lived my entire life with people stronger than I. I like that, and have no shame in being the weaker one. I'll never be able to cast a spell, and I don't give a shit that you can do something I can't."
The music and our almost-not-moving started a warm spot in me. Licking my lips, I slipped my arms from between us to find they felt natural about his waist. My heartbeat quickened and my eyes were wide as I stared at the wall, my breath slipping in and out of me in an unreal evenness. "Kisten"
"I'll always be here," he said softly. "You can never fill my need, never drive me away, no matter how much you give me. The good or the bad. I'll always be hungry for emotion, always and forever, and I can feel you hurting. I can turn it to joy. If you'll let me."
I swallowed as he drew us to a stop. He pulled back, and with a gentle touch on my jaw, he tilted my head so he could see my eyes. The pulsing beat of the music pattered on my mind, numbing and soothing. His gaze was heady. "Let me do this," he whispered, deeply dangerous. But with his words, he put me in a position of power. I could say no.
I didn't want to.
My thoughts pinged through me too fast to be realized. His hands felt good, and his eyes held passion. I wanted what he could give mewhat he promised. "Why?" I whispered.
His lips parted and he breathed, "Because I want to. Because you want me to."
I didn't look from him. His pupils never shifted, never grew. My grip on him became firmer as my arms pressed into him. "There will be no sharing of blood, Kisten. Ever."
His breath came and went, and his hands tightened. Expression dusky with the knowledge of what was to come, he leaned closer. "One," he said as he kissed the corner of my mouth. "Step." He kissed the other side. "At a time," he continued as he kissed me gently, so gently it made me ache for more. "My love," he finished.
A stab of desire went right to my core. My eyes closed. Oh God. Save me from myself.
"I make no promises," I whispered.
"I don't ask for any," he said. "Where are we going?"
"I don't know." My hands drifted downward from his waist. We were swaying to the music again. I felt alive, and as we almost-danced, a hint of fire came from my demon scar.
"Can I do this?" Kisten asked, moving closer so more of our bodies touched. I knew he was asking my permission to play upon my scar, to willingly let him bespell me. That he asked gave me a feeling of security I knew was probably false.
"No. Yes. I don't know." So torn. It felt good, just my body touching his, his arms about my waist, a new demand in their strength. "I don't know."
"Then I won't." Where were we going? Exhaling, he ran his hands down my arms, lacing his fingers in mine. Gently he pulled my hands to the small of his back, holding them there as we swayed, shifting to the slow, seductive music.
A shiver rose inside me. The scent of leather grew thick and warm. Where he touched sent a sliver of heat to tingle my fingers. My head dropped into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. I wanted to put my lips there, knowing what he would feel, knowing how he would taste if I dared. But I didn't, contenting myself to send my breath there instead, afraid of what he would do if my lips touched him.
Heart pounding, I moved his hands to the small of my back and I left them there, moving, pressing, massaging. My hands rose to twine my fingers behind his head. My thoughts touched upon us in the elevator when I thought Piscary was going to kill me. It was too much to resist, the memory of my demon scar alive and alight.
"Please," I whispered, my lips brushing his neck to make him tremble. His torn earlobe was inches from me, tempting. "I want you to." Pulling my gaze up, I searched his eyes, seeing but not fearing the narrowing band of blue. "I trust you. But I don't trust your instincts."
A deep understanding and relief pinched his eyes. His hands dropped lower, caressing until they found the top of my legs, then reversed their motion, moving, always moving, as we swayed. "I don't trust them either," he said, fake accent utterly gone. "Not with you."
My breath caught as his fingers traced from my back to my front, a whisper against my jeans. Tugging at the top button. Hinting. "I'm wearing caps," he said. "The vampire has been defanged."
Startled, my lips parted as he smiled, showing me that his sharp canines were indeed capped. It sent a surge of heat through me, disquieting and thought provoking. Sure, he couldn't draw blood, but now I'd let him explore a hell of a lot more of me. And he knew it. But safe? No. He was more dangerous now than if he hadn't capped his teeth.