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The feeling of wood beneath his palm vanished as he slipped into the immaterial world and passed through the wall. He couldn’t hold this form for long, but it sure was handy in a pinch.
Like when you want to sneak up on a thief, Alastair thought, slipping through the wall and into his office. He moved around behind her, placing himself between her and the window before he took another breath and brought himself back into the material world.
Everything looked different when he Shadow Walked. Colors were bleached, everything muted and faded, and the world around him bled together into nearly indistinguishable shades of gray like his eyes couldn’t perceive the lights and colors correctly. As he started to solidify, the world solidified around him, colors and textures returning to their rightful place.
And there was the fucking Witch herself, going through his shit, completely oblivious to the danger that just materialized behind her.
Even with the growing rage inside him, he had to admit she was gorgeous, at least from the back. He took a moment to soak in the image of her, leaning over the desk. Long red hair ran down her back in silky waves, a perfect shade to complement her pale skin. She wore a white dress, just a touch too tight, and when she bent over to rifle through his desk drawer, it slipped obscenely high up her legs until he could see just a hint of the bottom curve of her ass.
“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing in my office?” Alastair growled, and the scent of fear that wafted from her when she whipped around was intoxicating.
Chapter 9
Fuck.
How the fuck did he get in without me seeing him?
The Vamp standing in front of her wasn’t at all what Fey pictured when she’d envisioned the owner of this club. For one, he was young, though with Vamps you could never really tell their true age, not well anyway. And secondly, he was jaw-droppingly gorgeous.
Easy there, Fey.
His ink-black suit looked obscenely expensive and was a perfect color match to the shade of his hair. Tall, well-muscled, and dangerous-looking, he would have been exactly Fey’s type if he didn’t look like he was about to murder her.
Okay, Fey, relax. Remember your training.
The first rule of fighting a Vamp is you never do it unless it’s your only option. They’re faster and stronger than Demons, and even Shifters can’t hold a candle to them in a fight. Fey tried to calm her pounding heart and held her hands out in front of herself, palms first, in the least threatening stance she could muster. When he didn’t immediately rip her throat out with his teeth, she took it as a good sign.
“I’m so sorry,” Fey told him, her voice husky and breathless. There is an art to appearing non-threatening. She had never really mastered it, not the way Joy had, but Fey was doing everything she could to channel Joy’s feminine power to appear nonthreatening as she silently prayed to the Goddess to help her pull it off. “I was looking for the washroom, and I must have gotten turned around.” Fey flashed him the ditsiest smile she could manage. “This place is just, like, such a maze, you know?”
One look in his eyes told her he wasn’t buying it for a second.
Fuck.
His nostrils flared.
“You’re lying,” he said, his voice full of cold rage. He took a step toward her.
Shit. Hands still raised, Fey tried to take a step back but found the desk pressing against the small of her back, blocking her retreat. Double shit. “I’m not lying, I swear. I had no idea this was your office, and I’m so sorry?—”
He was on her before she could blink, moving faster than she could register to stand over her. The sudden appearance of him towering above her cut her off mid-word.
In the training yards, they teach Witches that the single deadliest thing about Vampires wasn’t their strength or even their bloodlust. It was their speed, something no Witch could counter without being prepared.
Fey had never faced a Vamp one-on-one before, and she sure as hell didn’t feel prepared for it tonight.
The Vamp reached up between them and took Fey’s face in his hand, his fingers digging painfully into her cheeks.
“I can smell that you’re lying,” he hissed. His eyes burned into Fey’s and his gaze was piercing. She felt like she was being swallowed by the golden ring of his irises.
Huh, well, that’s something they didn’t bother to teach us at training. Good to know.
“Get the fuck away from me,” Fey warned him, dropping the ditzy drunk girl act. She registered a brief flicker of surprise in his face at the sound of her real voice. At the surety of the threat in it.
But he didn’t move. He squeezed his fingers tighter, and Fey felt the split in her bottom lip reopen. The Vamp’s nostrils flared, and his eyes immediately left hers, darting down to where a single drop of blood began to blossom from the tear in her skin. The anger in his amber eyes turned to hunger as he watched the drop slide down onto her chin.
That was the opening Fey needed.
“I warned you, you know.”
