Chapter Three

Chapter Three

The house I shared with Lorcan, our little mausoleum of love, was dark when I pulled into the driveway.

The windows reflected the headlights, backwashing the car in thin illumination.

Lorcan was probably still at work. He kept late hours at his dental practice—partially to cater to other nocturnal monsters (even some humans couldn't make bank hours), and partially because he was a centuries-old vampire who didn't want to spontaneously turn into a charcoal briquette.

That meant I had a couple hours to kick off my shoes, slip into my silk robe, and relax for a while. Maybe have a little wine, and drive back the feeling of impending doom that had become my constant companion. Scratch that—maybe I'd have a lotof wine. Things always seemed better when I was wine drunk. Right.

Ten minutes later and newly fortified with a glass of Syrah, I grabbed some grapes and cheese from the fridge so I wasn't just drinking alone in the dark. I mean, it was never a good thing to drink alone, and I had enough problems, as it was. Currently, half of the fridge was filled with blood for Lorcan, enough that if some random vamp decided to drop by and investigate, seeing all that blood would convince them that I was partaking, too. That was, after all, the reason we'd stocked it so full. Yeah, that might have been a little paranoid, but where these vampires were concerned, you couldn't be paranoid enough.

If my gums hurt a little when my eyes strayed to the thick red liquid held in those bags, well, the wine would take care of that strange need eventually. So, yes, wine was definitely a good thing when you were a Blood Witch who was posing as a vampire and had a metric ton of shit on her plate.

I bumped the fridge closed with my hip and tried really hard not to think of vampires breaking in to rifle through my fridge. If they got that bold, I was going to have to ask the coven to start laying down curses around the house that couldn't be traced to me, just to remind the vamps of who they were dealing with.

But not now. Now was for relaxing and getting slightly buzzed.

I set my snack and glass down on the counter and then my eyes settled on my planner, which was poking out of my purse. With a sigh, I tugged the planner towards me and thought about the fact that I was still riding high after finding Jenny the perfect dress to go with her perfect shoes. But that wasn't the current task at hand. No, I had some commissions due soon—a wedding gown, a prom dress and a slinky nightie. All for different clients and all coming down to the wire. I needed to make sure I wouldn't have to order any more fabric or pick up any embellishments in Portland in order to finish them.

I paged through the book, nibbling on a grape or taking a sip of wine as I went, until a little pink mark caught my eye. I sometimes didn't have time to write a full note in the book, so I had a key for jotting things down quickly. Pink meant an important date. My eyes narrowed as I tried to remember what it was I was now forgetting.

It wasn't a birthday, I was fairly sure. Or an event. Hmm…

I took another sip of wine. The pink mark must have represented something recurring, like–

My eyes snapped wide then, and I almost choked on my mouthful of wine.

An anniversary.

Oh, spell.

It was the day that Lorcan and I had gotten quasi-vampire-married. Now, it might sound like a dastardly thing that I'd basically just forgotten my anniversary, but in my defense, everything had been such a huge mess in the last however long. First, I'd found out about my mother's crimes, then there was the meeting of the covens which resulted in rescuing Maverick and Astrid from death by vamp. Then Astrid actually had turned full vamp when she'd attended Blood Rose and then there was Sybil. Then the whole bit about the vampires wanting me to be fully blooded… Yeah—there was just too much to come to terms with. So, no wonder I'd made myself a little note about our anniversary, so I wouldn't forget it in the mess of everything else flying around.

But our anniversary was important. Lorcan was important. And I'd almost forgotten.

And worse, Lorcan hadn't mentioned it at all. Had we bothforgotten? I wasn't sure why it seemed so much worse that he might have forgotten it, but it did. I mean, at least I'd left myself a hint, which had eventually led to me remembering. But Lorcan… well, maybe he was as clueless as clueless came?

Something twisted in my chest at the idea that something like this was so easily discarded. After everything that had happened between us, after everything we'd been through—the demons, the vampire politics, the murderous faeries… didn't we deserve to celebrate the fact that we were still together? That we'd literally made it for better or worse, through thick and thin?

Yes, I was hardly a relationship expert. Most witches never dated, much less married. All our most important relationships were inside the coven, with women—our fellow coven members. Since there were a few dozen witches for every man born into a coven, much less a warlock, it wasn't likely that anything would blossom within the coven itself. And even if something did, witches, as a rule, weren't monogamous. Olga, one of Scapegrace's witches, was a notorious outlier and a hopeless romantic, and she was something of a joke among the other covens, hence why she was now in ours.

Not to mention how most covens treated the male sex, in general. Even warlocks, who at least had magic, were seen as second-class citizens. Witches had no desire to tie themselves down to anyone, let alone a man. Any witch that wanted a child just found a man to impregnate her, and that was that. She might shack up with him for an evening or a few weeks, or months—just long enough to get what she wanted. Daughters were brought up in the coven, and sons were fostered out to human families once they were old enough to be weaned. That was the way it had been for centuries. Longer, even. It was just the way covens worked. It was tradition. Never mind the fact that it was also wrong.

As it turned out, I was really bad at doing things the traditional way.

Against some pretty extreme odds, Lorcan and I had found each other. And what had blossomed between us? It was real. It was important, and we deserved to celebrate it, for spell's sakes.

My nails tapped against the marble counter as I started to scheme.

After all, if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. And I was now determined to come up with the best anniversary date in the history of romance. In fact, I was going to blow other anniversaries out of the water. Ours would be epic, a legend passed down through the generations—something that was talked about for centuries to come.

Too bad I had absolutely zero ideas on what to do or how to do it.

What even was a date? I mean… where did people go? I mean, yes, I understood that most dates involved eating food. Well, that was out right off the bat because Lorcan couldn't eat solids. And there was no way I was choking back reheated blood in an attempt to be romantic.

Blech.

Maybe I could do some research—figure it out online. I mean, that didn't sound very sentimental, but when it came to this romance stuff, I was a fish not only out of water but a fish as far from water as it was possible to be.

If it hadn't been for the telltale sound of the front door scuffing against the threshold, I might not have heard Lorcan walk inside. He could be so quiet sometimes—it was annoying. No matter how many times he laughingly told me he hadn't meant to sneak up on me, I didn't buy it. He was lucky he hadn't yet caught a hex to the face—in general, witches didn't appreciate surprises.

Of course, Lorcan immediately ruined his stealthy approach by whistling a bright, irritatingly cheery tune as he moved through the front hall and towards the kitchen. He'd started doing that to let me know he was home—probably so I didn't curse him.

"I will be your father figure," he started singing, his pitch and tone completely off. And, no, I absolutely wasn't smiling—not even a little bit, but I moved my wine glass to hide my mouth, just in case.

"Where are you, sweetling?" he half sang as he walked through the living room and towards the kitchen. "I know you're here, my darling! I can smell you, my little thunder cloud. I've missed you, dearest—I've been focused way too much on enamel fillings and not enough on the curves of your body, my lovely little nightmare."

Creepy and corny. A Lorcan special.

"Put your little hand in mine," he continued and I was fairly sure George Michael was rolling in his grave.

I frowned. "Where else would I be?"

I'd meant my words to come out snarky—I mean, the store was closed, so I obviously wasn't there. And I didn't have plans with the Black Cat Cocktail Club, so I wouldn't be in the living room. And he knew how I loved a little alcohol at the end of a trying day, so really, finding me here was hardly a leap or a revelation. But the words twisted in my mouth, coming out soft and sultry, and I had to force myself to put my wine glass down on the counter, because I almost bit the rim of it when my teeth snapped closed.

Sure enough, Lorcan swung around the corner with an insufferably wide grin on his face, which made him appear like a little boy, as opposed to the old bastard he really was.

"You do miss me, then."

I gave him a smile that had far too many teeth in it. "With every hex I've fired at you so far. But my aim is improving."

Lorcan swept into the room with a loud laugh, and his arm slipped around my waist as he spun me in a slow, deft circle, before yanking me up close and personal with his chest. It wasn't quite dancing, but it was close. And I must have been an utterly besotted fool, because I let him move me around and didn't kick his shin, or demand he unhand me at once.

It just felt so good to melt into his chest, to feel him here—so close to me. The aftershave he'd thrown on earlier was something with notes of spice in it, and it made me want to lick a stripe up his throat as heat coiled and curled in my stomach.

He hummed, pivoting. "It feels as if I haven't seen you in ages, my love."

I sniffed, tilting my nose up, like I wasn't melting against his chest like warm toffee. "You saw me eight hours ago."

"The sentiment is still the same."

I gave him a pointed eyebrow raise. "Careful. If you're too clingy, I might run away with some other dashing vampire."

My pulse leapt, and I sucked in a surprised gasp as Lorcan dipped me suddenly, my hair draping almost to the floor. Then he held me there as he grinned down at me, his green eyes sparkling while he held me, effortlessly.

"My dear, you should know by now that there are no vampires as dashing as me."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "Dashing and humble. They don't make them like you anymore."

"That's exactly what I keep trying to tell you."

When he finally pulled me back to my feet, I smacked him on the shoulder lightly, pretending the flush on my cheeks was annoyance. I started to say something snarky back, but paused. This might actually be an opportunity—my chance to do some reconnaissance, mine Lorcan for some ideas pertaining to our anniversary celebration. Not that I wanted to be obvious, of course. I didn't want Lorcan to suspect anything.

So, I plastered myself to his chest again, and started playing with the buttons of his dress shirt. "Well, what should we do, then?" I asked, looking up through my eyelashes at him.

Lorcan's mouth moved, but no sound came out. As if in response, his hands tightened around my waist, and he swallowed hard enough that I could hear the bob of his throat. It was gratifying, the poleaxed look in his eyes.

"Anything you want, sweetling." His voice was low, and just a little raspy.

It was hard not to grin like a cat with canary feathers sticking out of her mouth. I definitely did enjoy the effect I had on Lorcan, how focused he could be on me. But maybe I'd over done it, because I was going to need better ideas from him than ‘anything you want'.

My hands slid up Lorcan's chest to loop around the back of his neck, and I managed to press just a tiny bit closer. "Well, if you could do anything at this moment, what would you choose to do?"

"What I'm doing right now."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Is there… any place you'd choose to go? And what activity would most interest you? Something specific, maybe?"

"My dear, you're acting as if Dr. Frankenstein has lobotomized you."

I gave him the expression his comment deserved. But as soon as I was about to ask him another three to five questions, my voice went breathy as he leaned forward to start pressing gentle kisses against the skin of my throat. Shivers raced down my spine, tingling into my arms and legs, and I had to grind my teeth together to keep an embarrassing sound from slipping free.

"I have not been lobotomized, I'll have you know," I managed.

"Regardless, that was still… a mouthful," Lorcan said with a chuckle.

I tugged a lock of his blond hair lightly, fighting to keep my voice somewhere close to even. "Mouthful it might have been but… any suggestions?"

Lorcan paused, his lips pressed just over my pulse, and it raced to meet him. He brushed one more kiss against my skin, and then leaned back to look at me, blond brows creased with concern. "What's this about, love?"

"What's what about?"

"Why are you bulleting me with all these questions?"

He actually started to pull back, and something that definitely wasn't desperation but might have been in the same family, had me gripping his shoulders tight. "I'm just curious," I said, trying to sound innocent. "I thought maybe you meant you wanted to go on a date."

"At this moment?" he asked, his eyes reaching for the ceiling. Then he shook his head. "I was thinking more along the lines of disrobing you right here and right now."

Hmm, so my attempts to get information out of him hadn't worked. I should have known. ‘Ingenue' wasn't a role I could pull off, and thank the Goddess for that.

"Hmm," I started.

Lorcan's face twitched like he was hiding a smile, but his brows pulled together over the bridge of his nose as he scanned my face. "Are you feeling alright?"

Mission failure. Fall back, fall back. He was definitely onto me.

Flustered, I cursed internally, but kept the smile on my face. Luckily for me, leaning forward to drag my teeth over his bottom lip was all I needed to make the concerned look on his face evaporate like ice water in hell.

"I'm fine," I purred, arching against him. "And, yes, I think you should disrobe me right here and right now."

Lorcan's hands twitched around my hips, fingers digging in before he forced them to loosen. That one little flash of strength, a teeny loss of control, caused heat to pool in my stomach. As distractions went, this sure wasn't a sacrifice.

I started nudging him back towards the hallway that led to the bedroom, feeling like my veins were full of warm honey. Lorcan stopped me and then pushed me against the wall as he brought his mouth down on mine. The hot glide of his tongue caused my heart to start pounding, and I didn't even care that his arm around my waist was the only thing keeping me on my feet.

Lorcan's lips moved down my neck, brushing against my shoulder, and my breath came out in a shuddering sigh at the firm press of fangs I suddenly felt there.

I'd worry about anniversary dates later.

Much, much later.