1865
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were following me, Mr. Halford.”
I close the short distance between me and the black-haired beauty I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I met her a week ago. I keep my hands in my pockets, otherwise I’m afraid I’d reach out just to feel her skin against mine. The memory of her in my arms, her warmth against my chest, her scent in my nose, has haunted my nights. Even now my fangs tingle with the need to sink into her, to drink her heart’s blood and claim her as mine.
“Can a man not look through the wares of the market without being accused of such?” I ask, my tone teasing. The village square is lined with stalls, many vendors already packing up for the evening. Malachi and Kasar are speaking with the gunsmith of the town, and I nod when Kasar looks over at me. Josephine is chatting animatedly with the baker’s wife as the woman wraps up the large order Josephine had placed the day before.
Cassandra smirks, amber and hazel eyes flashing with amusement. Today, her black hair is braided in a crown around her head, tendrils already escaping to frame her face. She wears a yellow blouse with a white pinafore apron tied around her waist. “Considering you’ve never come to town before now?”
I shrug, unable to take my eyes from her. Cassandra raises a brow, the smirk shifting to a knowing smile. It’s true. Usually, I don’t bother coming into town, preferring duties that take me in the woods. My siblings are the ones who tend to handle the trips into Willow Creek.
Cassandra tilts her head, studying me. “Have you had dinner yet, Mr. Halford?”
I incline my head. “I have not.” No doubt she means the food a witch or human eat. But my heart races and my fangs and cock throb at the idea of her arching her neck and offering me her blood.
She hums, her smile widening. “Would you care to have some with me tonight then?”
A woman walking by gasps, no doubt at the audacity of a woman asking a man to dinner. Even here in such a small, secluded town, modern rules of society reign. What would the woman think if she were born in my time, when men and women worked side by side? Or when sex was nothing but what a male and female did to find pleasure and procreate? There was no taboo in pleasure, but now, heavens forbid a woman own her desires.
I eye Cassandra. No doubt the witch wouldn’t ascribe to modern beliefs when it comes to passion. She would not simply lie on her back, her legs spread, and allow her body to be used for the sake of a man. No, my witch would be demanding, the fire in her eyes would spread throughout her body and she’d command her own blaze.
I long for her to burn me.
“I would be honored, Cassandra,” I reply. I’d love to see her eyes flare with anger and perhaps even a hint of arousal at my use of her given name in a public setting.
Her smile softens, her expression full of a feminine confidence that draws me in. “Good,” she declares and turns, gesturing for me to walk beside her.
I fall in step with her, enjoying the way she doesn’t match her pace to mine. Instead, Cassandra keeps a brisk pace, her skirts swishing around her ankles with her movements.
“No Lily Dancer today?” she asks as we grow further away from the main square. I could race to her house in less than a minute with my enhanced speed, but that would reveal my true nature to the humans behind us and threaten the Nightshades’ place here in Willow Creek. If I’m honest, though, I want as much time as possible with this woman. I’d walk slower if I didn’t think she’d tell me to hurry up.
“Why? Are you worried you’ll trip again?” I tease, remembering how she’d tumbled into the road. Before she can do more than gasp in outrage, I duck my head down towards her ear and whisper, “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you before you fall. Or, perhaps, I’ll let you fall just to have an excuse to have you in my arms again.”
I straighten, amusement flooding through me as I continue to amble down the dirt road towards the forest path she lives down. Cassandra is still frozen in place, and when I chance a look back at her, she’s gaping at me. When our eyes meet, she turns the most becoming shade of red.
Cassandra huffs and begins marching towards me again. “Don’t tease a witch,” she warns, her tone a mix of playful and serious. “Or I’ll turn you into a toad.”
I cock a brow, grinning. “A toad? Why not something more creative? Like a frog?”
She stops beside me, her arms crossed, and she narrows her eyes at me. “Are frogs and toads not the same thing?”
“Most definitely not,” I insist. “Though I can see why a witch from New York would be confused.”
Cassandra scowls, her expression promising retribution, and I laugh. The witch marches ahead, but I hear her muttering about toads and frogs and I can’t stop my grin.
I hadn’t laughed so much in decades, not since Josephine and Kasar found me, and it felt wonderful. Cassandra brings lightness and joy I’d long since forgotten existed.
I’d had lovers, of both the vampire and human variety, but none had sparked this fire within me. The idea of her tripping again so I can catch her and have her in my arms, the idea of her threatening me, fills me with more joy than feeding from a corrupt, abusive soul.
Cassandra halts at the path towards her cottage, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at me. “Did you not think I was serious?”
I blink innocently, raising a hand over my heart. “About the toad? Of course, I take your threats very seriously, Cassandra.”
Her scowl returns and she points down the path. “Follow me, vampire, so I can prove to you that frogs and toads are the same thing.”
She spins and marches down the path, her steps purposeful. I follow her, keeping a normal human pace. The path is narrow, the trees overhead intertwining their branches in an archway, and the shadows grow the deeper we go. Cassandra’s skirts and hair bounce with her steps and I smile.
My fangs tingle and my cock begins to harden, imagining Cassandra bouncing in another way. With me inside of her as she rides me, her breasts bare and her head thrown back. My cock jerks, imagining her breasts would be generous enough for me to fill my hands.
Cassandra stops suddenly, and I nearly run into her. She turns, her eyes narrowed again, and I force my fangs to retract. Her amber and hazel eyes flash with the light of the full moon beginning to rise and I can’t resist.
I crowd her, my hand rising to cup her jaw. Cassandra’s eyes widen, and a spark of something more than suspicion fills her eyes. Desire, sharp and heady, fills her scent and it’s all I can do not to bare my fangs.
I trace my thumb across her bottom lip, and Cassandra’s lips part on a soft breath. Her pupils expand, and I can no longer resist.
“May I kiss you, Cassandra?” I ask, needing to hear the words from her. I wouldn’t cross the line until she gave me permission.
Cassandra’s pupils expand even more, until only the barest rim of her iris remains. “Yes.”
I swoop in, claiming her mouth. Cassandra’s gasp gives me access and I deepen the kiss, exploring her mouth. My tongue finds hers, and Cassandra grips my forearms, holding on as I devour her.
My fangs elongate, wanting to taste her, to bite her and claim her as mine. Cassandra moans, and the sound is all I can take.
I break the kiss, pressing a final, chaste kiss to her swollen lips. Cassandra blinks, her eyes glazed and unfocused. Her lips are red and kiss-swollen, and she’s never looked more beautiful.
Cassandra blinks again, coming back to the present. Her cheeks flush and her heart races.
Before she can reply, I sweep her into my arms, racing the rest of the way to her cottage.