Killian watched Ambrose intently. “I’ve never heard of a dragon not coming into his power.”
His surprise wasn’t unusual, and I shrugged. “Ambrose is a bit of a mystery, but he’s my mystery and I love him to bits.” Realizing how off topic we were, I got us back on track, wanting to polish off my glass of wine and head to bed after taking Ambrose back out to the roof so he could go for a fly around the city. “Are these the questions you really need answered?”
“No.” Killian took another long draw from his beer and then set the bottle down on the coffee table. “Have you had any trouble with anyone lately?”
“Not a single one.”
“Unhappy customers?”
“No.”
“Disgruntled readers?”
“No.”
“Obsessed fans of an author?”
I sighed. “No, I live a very quiet life. I don’t make enemies. I’m a bookshop owner for fang sakes.”
Killian leaned back in the chair. “Tonight, you were targeted. I need to find out why to ensure the safety of Charleston residents.”
I got that, but … “If you ask me, this was nothing more than vampires attacking a witch they don’t believe belongs in Charleston.”
“A possibility.” His hand carved through his thick hair, holding it back before releasing it.
“You don’t think that’s the case?” I asked.
His intense stare held mine. “I won’t make assumptions. I want facts.”
A headache loomed that had nothing to do with being drugged. I was exhausted. “Do your abilities allow you to view my memories too?”
A nod.
“Then why didn’t you look into my mind to see what happened yourself?”
“Without permission, reading someone’s thoughts or memories is a violation.”
I opened my mouth to respond but closed it. Killian Constantine was full of surprises. I finally offered my hand. “I give my permission for you to view the incident.”
His hand clasped mine, and power shot up my fingers, raising the hairs on my arms as the energy pulsated from his touch. “Think only of the memory,” he said, his voice rough.
My eyes shut on their own accord, and I fought against the tingling feeling deep in my core at the warm, welcoming strength filling up the space around me. His hand tightening on mine, reminded me I’d welcomed him into my mind, and I snapped my thoughts to the memory from the moment I spotted the vampire putting down the Nora Roberts novel on the counter to when I woke up on Killian’s chaise.
When the memory ended, I opened my eyes to see Killian’s shimmering with power, the irises a bright silver. I got the feeling it wasn’t because of my memory, but more his reaction to the same energy around us. Heady energy, the pulsating type a witch could lose herself in.
Not wanting to get in any deeper than I already was with the Warden of Charleston, I pulled my hand away. “Like I told you, I didn’t know any of the vampires who attacked me. They also didn’t give a reason for the attack. All pointing to one conclusion—it was a random attack, based on prejudice.”
The smoky gray slid back over Killian’s eyes. “It does appear that way.”
I let loose a breath. “Good.” Edgy, and not particularly liking how I still felt jittery in his presence, I rose. “If that’s all—”
“It’s not.”
I sighed heavily. “There’s nothing more I can tell you, Killian. Nothing more I can show you.”
He leaned back casually against the chair, stretching his arms out on the armrests like he belonged there. “You’ve mentioned your mother. Who is your father?”
“How is that any of your business?” I asked, returning to my seat.
“It’s my business because you live in my city, Ms. Farrington.”
I wanted to tell him to stuff his questions up his gorgeous, sexy ass, but he wasn’t wrong. Killian ruled Charleston. Questions from him couldn’t be avoided unless I wanted to get a lawyer—which I did not—or I left Charleston, my home. “Fair enough,” I conceded. “To answer your question, I have no idea who my father is. He died when I was a witchling. My mother raised me inside the coven, but she was killed when I was four years old. My aunt, Flora, took over as high priestess after that and raised me, and when I was old enough to ask who my father was, she said she didn’t know.”
Killian never took his eyes off me. I fought against squirming. He was powerful and handsome, and I was not immune to his charm.
He finally broke to chug his beer, then he reached for his wallet. He tossed a business card on my coffee table. “Instincts are rarely wrong. If your instincts tell you this wasn’t personal, then I’m going to believe you.”
“Thank you.” Point for Willa.
He gestured at the card. “My number is on there. If anything comes up, if you feel scared or uneasy about anyone, call me.”
“I will, thank you.” I bent down to pick up Ambrose. His low rumble of happiness warmed the cold bits of my soul after the anxiety of the last few hours.
Killian headed for the door, and I followed him back down into the shop. His vampires were installing a new door.
He took a step outside onto the quiet street and into the sunny day when something occurred to me. “Wait!” I called.
Glancing over his shoulder, Killian asked, “Problem?”
“Is telepathy one of your gifts?”
“No.”
The floor felt like it dropped out from under me. Again. “Then how did you hear me call for help?”
“A very good question,” was all Killian said before he shot up to the sky, leaving my hair fluttering around my face.
Chapter Three
“Wakey-wakey, witchy-witchy.”
I snorted, cracking open an eye, curled on my side in my double metal-framed platform bed. Finnick’s face was right in front of mine, his lack of breathing on my face. “You know it’s rude to come into someone’s bedroom without an invite, right?” I croaked.
“Oh, please, you’d be so lucky to have me in your bedroom.” He smacked my butt. Hard. “Get up. You’ve slept late. In case you’ve forgotten, it’s the Blood Moon Festival.” The only holiday in Charleston. Shops were closed. The entire city went to the festival. “And you have a shit ton of explaining to do.”
I grabbed my mauve duvet and pulled it over my head. “Go without me.”
I could hear his footsteps as he left my bedroom, and when he returned, another pair of feet had joined his.
The duvet was ripped away. Ambrose leapt up from where he’d been sleeping beside me and began sparking, his embers raining down on my cheeks. “Ow, it’s okay, buddy.”
“It’s anything but okay, Willa,” Gwen said, frowning down at me, looking as stunning as ever, wearing leather tights and a deep-red corset. “This is the biggest night of the year. You can’t miss it.” She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes, which were surrounded by shades of gray eyeshadow and fake lashes. “Besides, Finnick told me you had an interesting evening with the Warden. Get up. Go shower. We’ll have a drink ready for you when you get out.”