Chapter 2

2

REN

Y ou would think that vampires despised Halloween. Particularly with all the kids dressing up as what folklore, movies, and books had convinced humans were "real" vampires. However, their ridiculous notions were often a source of amusement for most of us.

Although, they were not entirely off the mark when it came to nightwalkers, the vampires that nightmares were made of. Unable to be in the sun and susceptible to garlic, holy water, and a stake to the heart, nightwalkers were made through a bite, not born.

Unlike daywalkers—which included me and my family—who were impervious to all of those tools. We were extremely hard to kill, and while we didn't turn to ash in the sun, we were still nocturnal creatures. Our eyes were sharpest in the dark, and the moonlight wouldn't burn our very pale, sensitive skin. It had only taken getting sunburned once for me to learn that being dubbed "daywalkers" didn't mean shit about how we lived.

Anyway, the kids were pretty cute with their fake fangs and Transylvanian accents.

But I never expected what I saw when I joined my brother's five-year-old daughter, Maxine, and four-year-old son, Marshall, for trick-or-treating.

I teleported to a spot between the two houses nearest them to avoid being seen by one of the many humans in the area. Then I moved quickly to catch up with them. The kids were debating approaching the house because it was supposedly haunted. Marshall wanted his dad to walk with him, which left Maxine looking unsure about what to do.

"I'll go with her," I offered with a big grin as I strode toward them from the darkness.

"Uncle Ren," Maxine screamed as she threw herself into my arms.

My smile faltered when I got a good look at her, and I gasped in shock before turning accusing eyes to my sister-in-law. "Is that a fucking vampire costume?" I growled, losing my normally calm and respectful demeanor.

"Yup." Maxine grinned up at me, while several nearby parents glared at me for my crude language. "Marshall's a vampire, too."

I shook my head. "I don't even know what to say." I was stunned that Braeden would allow his kids to wear these costumes. Although, judging by the look on his face, he wasn't happy with the situation. But his consort, Callidora, was clearly amused by his grouchy attitude.

"I'm being i-iro—" Maxine heaved a sigh of frustration and asked, "What was it again, Mommy?"

"Ironic, sweetie."

She nodded as she tugged on my wrist to lead me up to the house she'd been afraid of. But with her brother almost to the door, it seemed she was now in a rush to get up there too. "Uh-huh. That."

"You do realize you're going to have your hands full when she's a teenager, right?" I murmured to Callidora as we flanked her daughter and hurried up the sidewalk.

"Absolutely." She beamed a smile my way and used telepathy to add, But at least we won't have to deal with the boy-crazy stage human parents go through.

My laughter hung in the air when we reached the steps to the house. It wasn't difficult to guess how the rumor that it was haunted had gotten started since the owner had done a great job decorating for Halloween. The ceiling over the covered porch was swathed with cobwebs, and a convincing-looking witch's broom was propped in the corner. A black cat peered out the first-floor window, and candles flickered upstairs. The woman who opened the door was dressed in a long hooded black cape, and a smoking cauldron sat on a table to her left.

"Twick or tweat," Marshall cried, smiling up at her as he held out his bag.

I walked Maxine up to stand next to her brother so she could get her share of the loot, too. When she echoed the saying, the witch held a bowl of candy out to them. "The two of you are such convincing vampires, I think you should get extra treats. Go ahead and pick out a few."

She had a low, husky voice, very pleasant to the ear, and I could understand how a man would be aroused by it. However, it was just an observation because I had no physical reaction to her. Daywalkers were born with a fated mate, their perfect match, and our bodies would only physically react to that person. Unfortunately, there was no guarantee that any of us would ever find our consort. It was a fucking miracle that my brothers and some of my cousins had stumbled across their fated mates. And I meant that almost literally since touch was the only way to recognize your mate.

The women were always born after the men, but it was easy to lose hope when you'd lived for over half a millennium. Your fated mate could have come and gone—not all of them were vampires—and you'd never know it.

"Yay!" Maxine did a little excited dance while she waited for her brother to grab his candy. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." When she pulled the bowl close to her body again, a few pieces fell out. "Oops, sorry. I'm not usually quite so clumsy."

"No worries." I stepped forward and bent low to retrieve the candy she'd dropped. Instead of dropping them back into the bowl, I handed them directly to her. Our fingers brushed, and I hissed in surprise when my skin sizzled as heat shot through my body. She snatched her hand back, and I felt the loss of her touch in every nerve. My cock sprang to life. The faint smell of brimstone filled the air, and power swirled around me and my consort, who appeared to be a witch… fuck.

This would be complicated.

I was fucking ecstatic to have found my fated mate, but witches and vampires didn't often run in the same circles—to put it mildly. Witches looked down their noses at our kind. It wasn't always the case, but it was certainly a common enough occurrence for us to expect their disdain upon meeting.

So I was relieved when she raised her eyes to mine, and there was only surprise. And desire.

She was utterly gorgeous. Big brown eyes stood out against her pale, porcelain skin, rimmed with thick dark lashes. A pretty blush bloomed on her cheeks, accentuating her plump red lips. Her height was average, but I was tall, so her head had dropped back when she looked up at me, dislodging her hood. Shiny inky-black hair fell in waves down her back.

My eyes immediately dropped to her neck, looking for the mark that would declare her as mine. My lips turned down, and my brow furrowed when I saw nothing but smooth, flawless skin.

"What the fuck?" I muttered.

My family often teased me about being uptight, though I preferred to call it being studious and a gentleman. However, I could already tell that my consort would bring out my personality's rough, possessive side. One I hadn't been aware that I possessed.

"Ummm…I think we'll move on to the next house so you two can…ummm…"

Callidora broke the spell I'd been under, reminding me that we were not alone. In fact, another group of kids was skipping up the steps and shouting, "Trick or treat!"

Good question…

I looked my consort in the eyes and murmured, "We need to talk. Alone."

She blinked a few times, looking unsure, but then she nodded. "Help yourself, children," she said sweetly, setting the bowl of treats on the table with the bubbling cauldron. Then she turned and pushed open a black door with an oval window. "Come in."

I followed her inside and quietly shut the door behind me. We'd entered a small foyer with a coat tree, a little table holding a black glass bowl, and a large ornate mirror hanging above it. The walls were painted a soft lavender, and the floor was marbled cream-and-gold tile.

It was much lighter than I expected for a witch's home.

She led me through a large arched doorway into a living room with a deep purple couch and two matching chairs set across from each other in front of a fireplace. The walls were the same color as the foyer, but a thick, cream-colored carpet was beneath my feet, and the decor was a mix of black and purple.

This was seriously different from any witch's lair I'd ever been in. It was welcoming and cozy.

She waved her hand, and flames appeared in the fireplace, then she removed the voluminous cape and tossed it over the back of the couch.

My breath caught in my throat, and my mouth turned dry. Form-fitting leggings and a long-sleeved T-shirt did nothing to hide her fantastic figure. She wasn't overly curvy, but she had just enough to make her slim frame sexy as fuck.

Damn, she was gorgeous—from the top of her lustrous hair to her purple-tipped toes.

"Have a seat," she invited, sweeping a hand toward one of the overstuffed chairs before taking a seat on the sofa.

Ignoring her gesture, I sat on the other end of the couch. "What is your name?" I asked.

"Celeste," she replied with a cock of her head. "Yours?"

"Ren."

"Nice to meet you." Her formal tone made my lips curl down. "What is this about?"

"Destiny." The answer slipped out, and she raised one elegant eyebrow. "How much do you know about vampires and their consorts?"

Celeste shrugged. "Other than that they exist? Not much. My coven doesn't…"

She trailed off suddenly, looking uncomfortable.

"Doesn't like vampires?" I guessed. "Doesn't have anything to do with them? Doesn't think we should exist?" My tone was casual, having heard all of this before and not bothered by it.

Celeste flushed, almost distracting me with thoughts of how far down it would go when she climaxed.

Focus, Bancroft! There would be plenty of time for that—eternity, in fact.

"All of the above?"

I chuckled and scooted an inch closer. "Not surprising." Studying her neck again, I mused, "What is surprising is the lack of mark on your neck."

"Mark?" Celeste echoed as she cupped her neck with her hands.

"You are my consort, Celeste. You should have a birthmark on your neck." I frowned and gently pried her hands away, then ran my fingertips lightly over her collarbone and up to her face.

"Consort?" she gasped, jerking back. "Like your mate?"

"Exactly." I moved to touch her again, but she leaned away. I knew I needed to help her understand, but I was incredibly frustrated by the fact that she had no visible birthmark. "You should have been born with a birthmark that looks like a vampire's bite." I continued explaining a little more about how fated mates worked in my world. She let me talk but looked as though she had a million questions.

"I promise to explain everything, love, and answer all your questions, but give me a few minutes to try to figure this out." As I explored her neck a little more, something occurred to me. What if it was hidden? I sent out a pulse of magic, and suddenly, when my fingertips glided over the left side of her collarbone, it appeared, as if I'd wiped away makeup covering it.

There was only one reason that Celeste's mark had been hidden, and from her genuine shock at my declaration, I knew she hadn't been the one to disguise it. I was pissed as fuck that she'd been walking around without my brand on her. Even though no one would have known it was mine specifically, it still infuriated me. "There it is," I said softly, restraining myself from leaning in to kiss and lick the two dark spots that were meant to be pierced by my fangs. Anger simmered in my gut at the person who hid her from her fate, and I wanted to demand to know who'd done it, but I didn't want to scare my consort with my rage.

"What?" she yelped before jumping from the couch and hurrying to the foyer to look in the oval mirror. "Holy cow! What is that?"

"It's my claim on you, love," I told her with a smirk.

In an instant, the simmer in my stomach flared into full-blown fury when Celeste rested her left hand directly over the birthmark.

What. The. Fuck.

A diamond ring on her third finger sparkled in the firelight.

I shot to my feet and stalked over to her, grabbing her hand and yanking it toward me. "What the fuck is this?"

"Um…an engagement ring?" Celeste tugged her hand half-heartedly, but I didn't let go.

"You're engaged?" I shouted.