Chapter 14

D ominic

By dusk, I was a little surprised that I hadn't heard from Trixie yet.

I'd spiked her coffee with the potion from Belinda in the morning, a potion that Belinda had assured me was "very mild" and "completely natural" and "not at all malicious".

I was starting to have my doubts about the potion's potency, but Belinda had stopped responding to my paranoid text messages around dinnertime, and Vix's efforts to find the pink and sparkly potions master had been in vain.

It wasn't that I thought Belinda had lied to me about the potion she'd crafted. She knew better than to do that. But potions were inherently unruly, and as I sipped a bourbon on my balcony, I was starting to feel anxious that something untoward had accidentally happened to Trixie.

Belinda had told me she'd just scramble Trixie's directions a little bit. A playful thing that would wear off in an hour or two. I hadn't had any better ideas, so I'd let her run with it. But as midnight approached, I was really struggling, wondering if Belinda's potion had reacted poorly with Trixie.

Alternatively, I supposed it was possible that Trixie had just taken the prank as something stupid and was blowing me off. That wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Frankly, I wouldn't blame her for ignoring me. I hadn't done much except torment her lately .

How stupid that I'd let myself get swept up into a hex battle. It felt childish in retrospect, but before, it had been about more than that. I'd gone to see Trixie this morning simply because I'd wanted to see her again. She'd started the hexing game; I was just continuing it.

I sniffed the air, still not sensing any signs that Trixie had returned to her apartment. I'd been catching whiffs of her roommate moving around all evening, so I knew for a fact that the windows were open in Trixie's apartment. Emmy was brewing some potion that smelled like strawberries and unicorn hair, and I really didn't want to know the details.

Pouring myself another glass of bourbon from the almost empty bottle next to me, I tapped my fingers. Vampires could hold their alcohol well, but even so, I'd been drinking since Belinda had stopped responding to my texts and I was starting to feel it. I hadn't been drunk in decades.

I was just preparing to send myself to bed before I acted on a stupid idea—like maybe going down to the seventh floor and knocking on Trixie's door to see if she'd made it home safely—when I smelled it.

Blood . Fresh blood. Judging by the way the scent rose all the way up to the penthouse, it was a lot of blood. I was on my feet in a flash. I could tell the blood belonged to a female. Based on personal experience, I knew the female didn't have much blood left to lose before her death.

I took the stairs in seconds. Flew through the back door in a breath. The smell of blood just about bowled me over as I hurtled into the alley and saw her. A woman, all right—pretty brunette hair, slight figure, jeans and a sweatshirt, sprawled face-first on the ground .

"Trixie," I roared, and threw myself at the body, ignoring the pool of blood on the ground despite every one of my instincts telling me to drink, drink, drink .

"Trixie, baby," I groaned. "Stay with me. Stay with me, honey, I'll fix you."

But already, I knew it was too late. There was no heartbeat, no subtle rise and fall of the chest. No signs of life whatsoever.

I rolled her over gently, and as I did, I hated myself for the wash of relief when I realized that the blank face staring back at me didn't belong to Trixie. I'd never seen this woman before. Never smelled her. It wasn't her.

It was a shock to my system how blinded I'd been that I'd missed all the cues. If I'd just paused up in the penthouse, I would've realized the blood I smelled didn't belong to Trixie. I knew how she smelled. But I'd panicked.

None of my logical impulses had fired when I'd caught the smell of blood. Nothing about my response had been strategic. A dead female near my apartment, with the knowledge that Trixie wasn't home yet, and I'd flown off the handle, a nervous wreck that it was her .

I breathed heavily, checked for any sign of life on the mystery woman. If I could've done anything to save her, I would've. I would've turned her immortal, gave her my blood to heal—hell, I would've performed CPR. But the poor thing was too far gone.

I gently closed her eyes and took a step back. I flicked my phone open, made a call to the police and reported the body.

As I spoke, my eyes scanned her figure. My brain was starting to function again now that I'd processed Trixie wasn't dead. I hadn't known how much that meant to me until this very moment.

I leaned in closer, noting the obvious stab wound to the woman's chest. That had definitely contributed to her bleeding out, but as I squinted, I could tell it was just a cover.

There were two fang marks in her neck, barely discernible. The marks of an experienced vampire. Marks from my brother.

I had no doubt this was Sebastian's morbid way of leaving me a message. A woman who vaguely resembled Trixie left for dead directly beneath my penthouse? It wasn't an accident.

I hung up, waited until the cops arrived, then gave my statement. When they let me go, I dragged myself up to the seventh floor. I didn't pause to consider whether anyone was sleeping as I knocked on the door.

Emmy opened it, her eyes magnified behind huge goggles that made her look like a fish. "Yes? Oh, it's you. Something going on out there? I saw some flashing lights."

"Something," I rasped. "Is Trixie home?"

"No."

"Where is she?"

"Why?" Emmy frowned at me.

"I've got a message for her."

"Do you want her phone number? Don't you have it yet?"

"I will find her if you don't tell me. I need to make sure she's safe."

Emmy gave me a skeptical glance. "You're lucky that I think you're in love with her, or I'd never share her whereabouts. That, and you're a scary rich vampire who could find her anyway, so there's no point really in fighting you on it. Just don't hurt her, okay? Promise me."

"That's the least of my intentions."

Emmy rolled her eyes like I was doing a terrible job of not hurting her friend. "Trixie is staying at her grandmother's house tonight up in Crystal Rivers. She had a rough day and needed a break from city life. You wouldn't know anything about that rough day, would you?"

I winced.

"I thought that might be the case." Emmy waved for me to step inside. "What are your intentions with my friend?"

I wasn't exactly prepared for the "intentions" conversation just yet, but I was weary enough from witnessing my brother's brutal attack on an innocent woman that I didn't have any fight left in me to argue.

"What do you mean, Emmy?" I asked on a sigh.

"My friend is fragile. Trixie is important to me, and frankly, I'm one of the only people she has in her life that she trusts."

"What about her grandmother?"

"Grandma Betty is great," Emmy said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "But the situation is complicated. Trixie didn't even know she had a grandmother until she was eighteen."

"Why is that?"

Emmy looked uneasy. "I don't want to get into the details. Not my story to tell."

"Why is she killing herself by repressing her magic? "

"She's not—" Emmy stopped shortly, blinked at me. Her blink was magnified, making her look exceptionally goofy. "She's not killing herself."

My tone was dry. "I'm not exactly in the mood to beat around the bush after seeing a dead body in the alley."

"A dead body? Alley?"

"The flashing lights?" I nodded my head to the window. Emmy seemed so wrapped up in whatever potion she was making that she'd already forgotten about the world outside of her makeshift laboratory. "Police. Dead Body. Making sense yet?"

"Oh, no ."

"It's nothing to do with Trixie. It's not her."

"That's why you're here." Emmy ogled me more closely. "You were checking on her safety."

There was no question, so I just nodded.

"Do you love her?" Emmy finally removed her goggles, making her eyes appear normal sized.

"That would be impossible," I said. "We've only known one another for such a short while."

"But?"

I licked my lips, glanced around the apartment. There were plants everywhere. Hanging from the ceiling, propped on shelves, taking space on bookshelves. For some reason, I knew they were Trixie's. I wasn't sure how I knew; I could just tell.

It was like the bright green foliage was something she could care for that would never break her heart. It was clear that whoever was responsible for these plants had more than a halfhearted interest in them. There was love and care and attention that went into maintaining this many of them.

Which made sense. Trixie had a lot of love and affection to give, I could feel it. Yet she had no outlet to share it with anyone. Except her freaking plants.

I cursed under my breath, thinking that if I had a fully functioning heart, it might just be cracking right now. Breaking at the small life this beautiful, passionate woman was leading, so cooped up and tentative, when Trixie should be on a vibrant and wonderful path that made her truly happy.

"Trixie's special," I said hoarsely. "I'll be honest, I don't know what it is about her, but it's something bigger than me, bigger than her. I care for her."

"Trixie doesn't want much. She's pretty simple. But people in her life have still managed to let her down on those simple wishes for a long, long time."

"I won't let her down."

"You hexed her today, Dominic. Why are you messing with her?"

"Because men are stupid."

"I'm liking you more with every word of this conversation."

I folded my arms, leaned next to a plant that was spilling little pearls of green in long strands. "If I asked Trixie out on a proper date, what do you think she'd have said?"

"Hell no."

I inclined a shoulder. "So she started a hexing war, and I'm just playing along. I didn't want to stop seeing her and, well, this was an easy way to keep her connected to me. "

Emmy rolled her eyes like I was stupid. In my defense, I'd already admitted as much.

"You're taking the easy way out," Emmy said. "I bet if you really set your mind to it, you could find a much more creative and mature way to ask her out."

"Ouch. But fair."

"I think you're just afraid of getting close to her in a meaningful way."

"Are you part psychic?"

"Sure," Emmy said casually. "If that makes you feel better."

"Why is she so afraid of magic?"

"That's another conversation to have with Trixie." Emmy seemed to consider there was more she wanted to say. Finally, she broke down and continued. "Look, I've done a lot of therapy in my life. I can tell when there's trauma, and she's got a world of trauma buried deep. She doesn't really talk to anyone about it, even me."

"I'm entirely unsurprised."

"Her relationship with her mom was supremely complicated. You'll want to start there."

"Are you going to tell her about this conversation?"

"I haven't decided yet."

I backed toward the door. "Have a good night, Emmy. Lock your door and don't leave after dark for a few days."

"Hey, Dom." Emmy hesitated as she called after me. When I turned back, her hands were flexing nervously before her. "Trixie feels something toward you. I know she does, or she wouldn't be reacting like this."

I gave a soft snort. "You mean, hating me?"

"Hate and love are a fine line," she whispered. "Give her time. Be careful with her."