He didn’t move, those animalistic eyes locked on my every move, every breath, and heat flushed my body red hot in warning.
Before I could get a word out, in a blink of an eye, he was out of the shop, the breeze of his departure causing my hair to flutter. The shop’s door slammed shut, knocking over books in the window display. My hands shook as I clicked the cash register to cancel the order.
Gwen peeked around the bookcase. “What was that all about?”
“I have absolutely no idea.” I breathed deeply, attempting to settle the racing of my heart.
Gwen smirked. “Well, it wouldn’t be Charleston if something weird didn’t happen every night.”
“True,” I agreed, but I couldn’t push away the unease creeping over me. Never, in all my twenty-four years, had anyone ever looked at me like they hated my guts. Sure, when I first moved to Charleston, not all the vampires living in the town were warm and welcoming to a witch living among them, but they looked at me with disdain, not hatred. Never hatred.
Determined not to let the vampire ruin my night, I focused on getting set up for our special guest, Sophie Sands, a vampire author who’d recently made the New York Times Best Sellers list with her thriller.
I did a good job not thinking of the odd moment with the vampire, in the hours that passed. But the creepiness crawled back up my spine when Sophie began signing books for her fans. I scanned the crowd, seeing if that vampire from earlier had come back, but I saw only happy, adoring readers clamoring to meet Sophie, a gorgeous blonde vampire who belonged on a red carpet.
I handed Sophie another stack of books to sign when Gwen sidled up to me. She leaned against the bookcase, folding her arms across her T-shirt that read I might be a vampire but that doesn’t mean I have to be a dick about it. “Finnick and I are hitting up the Blood Moon Festival tomorrow.” The only night we were closed. “Want to come with?”
Finnick was the third in our friendship trio, and the only other vampire who truly welcomed me into Charleston. “Yes, of course! Unless—” The festival wasn’t meant for witches. We didn’t celebrate the blood moon, only the full moon. And the relationship between vampire and witch was a sticky one. Witches came from white magic, given from the Goddess. Vampires derived from dark magic. Prejudice over whose magic was stronger, purer, never went away, not even when there was peace with humans.
“Unless nothing,” Gwen said, baring her fangs. “Don’t let some stuffy vampires with dinosaur-aged views get in your head. You’re as welcome there as anyone else.”
My heart grew two sizes. “Okay, you’re right. Carnival rides and candy apples sound like a perfect night off.”
“Great,” Gwen replied, pleased. “I’ll let Finnick know. Do you need any more help here?”
I scanned the dozen customers left in the shop and glanced at the clock on the wall. Sunrise was an hour away. “Nah, go home. This should wrap up soon and I’ll close shop.”
“All right, bye, Boo.” Gwen dropped a quick kiss on my cheek before heading for the door.
I smiled after her. The myth about sunlight and a stake through the heart killing vampires wasn’t true. The only way a vampire died was from being burned by fire. Bullets, knives and any other weapon could injure a vampire, but with human blood, they’d recover in seconds. Except if the blade or bullet was silver, then healing took hours. Even a vampire on the brink of death would eventually heal if they had blood. But from what Gwen told me, the sun was just too bright, too hot, too uncomfortable.
“Another stack, please,” Sophie said.
I blinked. Sophie held out her hand, frowning. “Sorry.” I reached for another stack of hardcovers and handed them to her. At the annoyance in her sharp blue eyes, I stayed attentive on the job at hand, keeping my thoughts only on Sophie’s needs until I thanked her for coming to the signing and shut the door behind her after the shop cleared out.
Everything hurt. My arms from holding and passing books. My legs from standing so long. Most of all, my feet.
I locked the front door and flipped the sign to closed, and then dragged my aching feet toward the counter, where I closed the cash register, taking the money to the safe in the office.
By the time I turned off all the lights and made my way toward the back stairs leading to my apartment, I was yawning. I stuck the key in the lock and the hair on my arms rose. Spinning around, I stared into the darkness at the front of the bookshop but heard nothing, saw nothing. Feeling like I was beginning to lose it, I turned to the lock again when I heard a laugh and smelled sandalwood. A hard wall of muscle hit my back before a hand covered my mouth, and an odd metallic smell filled my nose.
“Fighting is pointless,” a low voice said.
My blood ran cold as I recognized that voice. The creep from earlier spun me around, forcing me to stare into dark eyes that stood out against his pale skin. “You’re not going to scream. You’re coming with me.”
“Like hell I am,” I growled, kneeing him in the groin. Vampire or not, he went down with a grunt. I ran for the front door, except another set of hands grabbed me, and another, and I discovered the bookshop’s carpet tasted like gritty sand. Most witches would have called on their magic to defend them, but I, being magic-less, struggled and roared, until all I knew were hands on my body and pain. So much pain.
Help.
Help me.
Until, like a switch being turned off, the world went black.
When that switch turned back on, I had no recollection of how much time had passed but only knew that I was no longer outside my apartment or anywhere near my bookshop. I jolted up with a gasp, finding myself on a black leather couch in a Victorian sitting room with furniture I bet was older than the city of Charleston.
Someone cleared their throat.
I jerked my head toward the sound, finding the most gorgeous vampire I’d ever seen, sitting in a leather wingback chair. Obviously, when he’d been turned, he’d done manual labor. He clearly had a strong physique and black dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves to reveal mouthwateringly muscular forearms, and I just bet he had an eight-pack beneath that fancy shirt. Even his black dress pants were tight against his thick thighs. His shiny jet-black hair was styled, and he didn’t look older than thirty-five, but his shadowed gray eyes declared his age was far older.
“What is your name?” he asked. His voice was smooth and low, and damn near melted my bones.
“Shouldn’t you know my name? You abducted me,” I shot back.
His nostrils flared. “I won’t ask again. What is your name?”
“Willa Farrington,” I said, studying my abductor. The waves of power coming off him were near stifling. “And you are?”
A smirk. “Killian Constantine.”
Oh fang. Killian wasn’t an ordinary vampire, he was the Warden of Charleston, making him basically royalty in these parts. Each city had their own Vampire Sovereignty; Killian led Charleston’s. He was the police, the judge, the jury, and he answered to only one person: Ari.
The sane part of my mind told me to stay quiet. The impulsive part controlled my lips. “You are the Warden of Charleston. How dare you attack me.”
He cocked his head, his regard deepening. “I didn’t attack you. The vampires who attacked you are dead.”