11

Ophelia

I'm in Casimir's car.

I'm in Casimir's sleek, black, very expensive -looking car, letting him drive me back to my van.

Something soft and classical plays on the radio, and the leather upholstery feels like butter against the sliver of skin between the bottom of my dress and the tops of my boots. Casimir has one hand on the wheel, the other resting idly on the center console between us.

We drive southeast out of downtown, passing under streetlights that illuminate the car's luxe interior in a gentle cycle of light and dark, throwing all the sharp lines of Casimir's face into even more dramatic angles when I chance a look over at him.

He seems… calm. Cool, collected, absolutely fine with all of this, like it wasn't just a little over twenty-four hours ago that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

And now we're… partners.

I try to catalog all these facts objectively. Professionally. Unemotionally.

It's fine. This is fine. Everything's fine.

Even though I probably shouldn't have accepted his offer for a ride.

Even though I still don't really understand how everything changed so quickly.

Even though, with every beat of my heart, I can still feel Casimir's mark pulsing faintly on my neck.

It's fine.

We're on this case together now, and though I don't have a ton of experience working with a partner, it's probably not outside the realm of acceptability to agree to something as simple as hitching a ride home.

Because we're partners.

That's it.

The mark on my neck twinges again, and my fingertips ache with the restraint it takes to keep myself from reaching up and running them over the two small, round, inexplicably healed-over punctures at the side of my throat.

When we got in the car, I hadn't been able to stop myself from flipping the visor down to take a look in the mirror. It had made my breath catch, the stark red against the pale of my skin, the shock of electricity that ran through me when I saw the evidence of just what I let Casimir do to me in that alley.

Though I hadn't been able to meet his eye as I examined that evidence, a prickle of awareness at the periphery of my vision made me certain Casimir was watching while I did. Waiting, maybe, for me to say something about it, though he didn't utter a word before he turned the ignition.

And now, like it did when I first saw the marks, the dark, stirring memory of what it felt like to receive them echoes through me unbidden.

Whatever I expected a vampire's bite might feel like, nothing could have prepared me for… that.

The tenderness of Casimir's touch as he held me, the sudden, fiery pain that melted almost immediately into something else.

An alchemy of blood and magick, he called it.

I don't know much about magick, or alchemy, or what the hell happened between us, but I do know one thing.

It can't happen again. Not ever. Not with what that magick, that alchemy , did to me.

Maybe it was different for him, but what I felt was… sex. Pure, clawing, undeniable lust. The kind that sent my heart racing and my pussy throbbing, that made me feel like I might burst into a million burning pieces if I didn't get more. More of his bite, more of his touch, more, more, more.

I had been ravenous. Out of my mind for him. Completely lost to his bite.

It wasn't until he stepped away and let the cool night air wash over us that my sanity returned and the magnitude of the mistake we made crashed into me.

Casimir seemed unbothered by the whole thing. Because of course he did. Unflappable and flippant as always, I'm sure biting a hapless human is no big deal for him. Business as usual. Nothing to write home about or get too worked up over.

So maybe I can get over it, too.

Scratch that. I have to get over it. Forget it. Erase it from my brain and get with the program.

What happened in that alley was a blip. A misguided attempt to neutralize a threat to our cover story.

And everything after that…

I'm still pissed we got absolutely nowhere with Marcus, and frustrated this one good lead fizzled back out into nothing. At the same time, though, I'm re-energized, more certain than I have been in weeks that we're on to something here.

And, also for the first time in weeks, I'm strangely comforted to find I'm not alone in all of this.

We might have gotten steamrolled tonight, but there was also something exhilarating about going undercover with Casimir.

"We're here," Casimir says, shaking me from my thoughts as he pulls over to the curb and leans forward to look quizzically at our surroundings.

We're in an industrial park, not exactly the typical spot for an out-of-towner's accommodations, but the brother of one of my former college classmates owns a seasonal snow removal business around the corner. Since he's still in his off-season, he agreed to let me pay him a couple hundred dollars to park in the yard where he keeps his plows. It's not perfect, but it's got an electrical hookup and a gym a few blocks away where I got a temporary membership to work out and shower, so it'll do.

Casimir's brow is lowered, his mouth set into a harsh frown. "Where are we?"

I reach for the door's handle to let myself out, but his heavy hand lands on my knee. Ignoring the way my whole body hums under that touch, the way it echoes all the way to the mark on my throat, I roll my eyes.

"Don't worry about it. I've got my camper van parked around the corner in a lot that belongs to a friend of a friend."

"You're not staying here."

I can't help it, I have to laugh at that. "Really? Says who?"

"Ophelia—"

"Have a good night, Casimir."

Opening the door before he can reply, I step out into the cool Boston evening. It's not far to the van, but I barely make it a dozen steps before his door slams shut and his footsteps trail me down the sidewalk.

"We're not done discussing this."

"Yes, we are." I look back over my shoulder to find Casimir there. Right there. Crimson eyes blazing as his hand lands on my shoulder.

"If you insist on staying in the van, you'll park at my home."

"Uh, no. I won't. I'm fine here."

"Ophelia." That deep voice of his books no argument. He takes a half-step closer and drags his hand from my shoulder to my neck, fingertips trailing over his mark.

My entire being lights up at the soft touch. A cascade of starlight through my veins, a hitch in my breath as the night burns with sensation.

Casimir drops his hand. "I won't have you staying here alone. You'll be safer parked at my home. And, if that's not enough to convince you, I have a guest bathroom on the first floor that might."

Damn, he knows how to go straight for the jugular with that one. Ignoring the whisper of temptation over the idea of having a real bathroom to use rather than relying on the showers at the gym and my composting toilet, I shake my head.

"You won't have me staying here alone? Since when do I answer to you?"

A low, displeased noise breaks in the back of his throat. "You don't. But things have changed, the stakes are higher, and if you're in danger here I can't let that—"

"Again. Not your job to let me do anything."

"Ophelia."

He needs to stop saying my name like that. Deep. Commanding. With an exasperated edge that just makes me want to argue with him more.

"Casimir."

A pause in all that exasperation, an unlikely smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You can call me Cas, you know. Most of my friends do."

"We're friends now? I'm touched, truly, Casimir, but that still doesn't mean—"

"Cas," he corrects. "And let me win this one? You may not consider me your friend, but it would be a weight off my shoulders to know you were safe and close by in case anything happens."

I shouldn't say yes.

It's another line, blurred. Another concession, given without me knowing whether it's the right thing to do.

Didn't I intend to do this all on my own? And while I might see the sense in partnering with Casimir— Cas —on this investigation, that doesn't mean I have to stay at his damn house.

At the same time… tonight has me a little rattled. Yesterday has me rattled. This whole assignment has me rattled, and though I'm not quite at the point of imagining hitmen in the shadows or feeling like I'm in imminent danger… Cas has a point.

I open my mouth, then close it, then catch Cas's eye and feel another warm, annoying pulse of sensation in the bite mark on my neck.

"Fine."

The word comes out clipped, short and breathless on the edge of an irritated sigh, and I'm not sure who's more surprised, me or Cas.

His smile is warm, but lacks any of the superiority I might have expected to find there. Instead, he simply inclines his head, gives me an address to plug into my phone's GPS, and says he'll see me when I arrive to give me a house key and show me where I can plug in.

He leaves, and I stay standing right where I am for ten seconds, thirty, a minute, until the sound of a car's horn somewhere nearby jerks me out of my stupor and I walk slowly back to the van. After taking a few minutes to make sure everything is fastened down and stowed away for the drive, I climb into the driver's seat and rest my forehead against the wheel.

What the fuck am I doing?

I've got no answers, no explanation for it, nothing to do but turn the key in the ignition and slip my phone into the mount on the dash, opening up the map that will take me straight to the vampire I was never supposed to get this close to.