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I, myself, woke in the early hours of dusk, my body alive, knowing that something changed during my slumber. My senses were buzzing… telling me something was skulking through the streets of the city, demanding my attention, forcing me from the comfort of my nest before nightfall.
I turn my attention back to the woman across the street.
Not something, but someone.
As I watch, the woman finishes the last bite of her meal and washes it down with a long drink of wine, her lips caressing the rim of the glass, and the line of her throat extending as she tips her head back to reach the last drops. I can almost taste the sweet nectar of the drink on her tongue.
A pang of hunger ripples through me, but it is not the ever-present thirst for blood that grips me now, although it has been some time since I’ve had a decent meal, and she looks like she would satisfy my needs perfectly.
No, this hunger is something else entirely.
Shaking myself from the moment of hypnosis, I hunker further into the dark cover of the balcony overhead, afraid that I won’t be able to stop myself from rushing across the road and snatching her up.
I’m almost positive I could make it before being set ablaze by the sun. It would be worth it if I could have just one taste.
Usually, I’m not one for risky, spur-of-the-moment actions—that’s Rune’s forte—but today has been… different.
Wildly so. After two decades of a monochromatic, monotonous world, the moment I set eyes on this strange woman, something ignited inside of me.
Even if I didn’t feel this curious, otherworldly pull between us, this creature certainly sticks out in a crowd. With hair that frames her face in wild curls of shining ebony and dyed a pretty bubblegum pink at the tips, she’s hard to miss.
Not to mention the magic that surges within her.
Her energy is like the Sun Witches of the city. Except I know each and every witch of the Tremé covens: mother, daughter, and grandmother alike. It is my job, after all.
And this woman isn’t one of them.
It’s possible she’s simply a tourist who happens to be a witch. It’s not uncommon, but something tells me I’m wrong.
She’s not human. Or a vampire. Or a werewolf.
She is a mystery—an exotic beacon in a sea of humans moving in waves through Jackson Square. I was led to her by something outside my understanding, and I’ve been fixated ever since. I couldn’t ignore her if I tried.
Though, if I’m being truthful, I didn’t try.
Sebastian says I’m too curious for my own good. Most days, I disagree, but I’m getting the feeling I should leave while I can, get as far away from this woman as possible, and pretend this never happened.
But I can’t force myself to move.
“A spell?” I wonder aloud.
It certainly seems like magic.
No, I’m sure I would have noticed a witch’s spell taking hold of me.
But then what holds me here in her thrall? It’s like I’m a planet that’s been sucked into her orbit with no chance at breaking free.
I’ve tried to figure it out for the past hour: following her scent through the entire Quarter, imagining her exploring what the city offers. She popped in and out of shops, paused to stare at old, boarded-up buildings, and spoke to the vendors set up along St. Ann.
And the longer I tracked her scent and breathed her essence into my lungs, the more invested I became. And then I found her sitting on the private patio of her hotel, enjoying an evening meal and a glass of wine.
Entrancing.
Still, I don’t know what any of this means, but I know there’s something different about her.
“Could I order another bottle of this to bring up to my room?” The beautiful stranger asks the waitress. “I’m having a self-care day.”
“Absolutely, I’ll have it sent up. And if you’re really going all out for yourself, maybe you want some bread pudding for dessert?”
