Kadie glared back, hoping he wouldn’t unloose his anger on her.
He took a deep breath when he sensed Kadie’s unease. Did she really think he would strike her? Not that he could blame her for worrying. She might carry his ancient blood, but she was no match for his anger or his strength.
He closed his eyes, took another deep breath and held it util he felt his rage drain away.
Murmuring, “I’m sorry,” he opened his eyes, his gaze not quite meeting hers. “Forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. I know you’re going through hell.”
“Yeah.” She had no idea, he thought bitterly. No idea at all of the torment he’d been experiencing.
Filled with an overwhelming restlessness, he went to the window and stared down at the town. Even though it was late, there were several people strolling along the sidewalk in front of the hotel.Prey. An indrawn breath carried the scent of their blood, each one just a little different. He had once thought of humanity as a smorgasbord – so many different tastes and smells and textures between young and old, male and female. His gaze settled on a teenage couple holding hands in the shadows. The girl smelled of lavender and burgeoning lust. He felt his hunger rise hot and swift within him. So easy to take her. To take them both....
He reeled back when Kadie slapped him for the second time that night. He had killed people for less, he thought. His head snapped back, his eyes going red with rage. He bared his fangs at her and she slapped him again.
“Stop it, Rylan! Dammit, I said stop it!”
He glared at her, his admiration for her courage overcoming his anger as he lifted a hand to his cheek.
She glared back at him, her eyes glowing red. “I’m closing the town tomorrow,” she said.
He didn’t argue. They had done it once before.
When he didn’t say anything, she put her arms around him. “We’ll figure it out,” she murmured. “Somehow.”
Chapter Seven
Izabela told herself whatever was troubling Saintcrow was none of her business. So what if he’d gone to see the witch in the Everglades? The two-faced Alara.
Izabela grimaced. Half-human, half-reptile. What kind of union had produced such an abominable creature? And why did she care?
If Saintcrow wanted to seek help from another witch after all she’d done for him, well, to hell with him. She wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t jealous. And she wasn’t angry, she assured herself as the force of her outrage shattered the glass in the two narrow windows on either side of the front door.
After taking a deep, calming breath, she sat at her kitchen table. A wave of her hand produced pen and paper and she began to make of list of everything she knew about Rylan Saintcrow. It was a long, long list. Sadly, it held no answers.
Going upstairs to her work room, she filled her favorite cauldron with water, added a few drops of Saintcrow’s blood, a dash of sage, a sprinkling of mugwort, and chanted softly.
“Blood of blood, stronger than fire, show me that which I desire!”
For stretched seconds, silence reigned. And then, slowly, a faint orange cloud rose from the center of the cauldron. Gradually, it took on the hazy form of a tall woman with long blond hair and coal-black eyes. A small, green dragon tattoo with yellow eyes adorned the left side of her neck. The woman fastened her unblinking ebony gaze on Izabela. Even though the illusion wasn’t solid, power lanced through Izabela. Startled, she took a step backward.
The sound of amused laughter filled the room.
Izabela swore softly as the illusion gradually dissipated. What the devil had just happened? Who in Hades was the woman?A witch caught up in her spell by mistake? A female from Saintcrow’s past? Another vampire, perhaps?
She spent the rest of the night trying every spell and incantation she knew to resummon the woman’s image in hopes of learning more but to no avail.
Mouth set in a determined line, she turned to the pages of her grimoire, but found no help there. One thing she was sure of – whatever was plaguing Saintcrow was somehow linked to witchcraft, perhaps a curse she had never before encountered, perhaps an enchantment gone awry.
When the sun came up, she was still in search of an answer.
Chapter Eight
Kadie was as good as her word. In the morning, she made an announcement over the loudspeakers in the hotel and the campground that Morgan Creek was being closed and that all guests, staff, and business associates must be checked out as soon as possible due to the risk of an explosion from a possible underground gas leak. Refunds would be made at the hotel desk. Vouchers would be provided for those who wished to return at a later date.
The announcement met with a few instances of panic but for the most part, people were disgruntled but quick to comply.
Saintcrow stood at the window in his office that afternoon watching a caravan of cars, trucks, and campers wend their way across the bridge toward the highway.