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“It’s just a place, Trixie. There are others. Have you really not considered that I might have more reasons for wanting to sell this place other than sheer malice and a vendetta against you?”
I took a deep breath. Dom’s eyes flicked down to my chest, watching the rise and fall there, as if the act of taking in oxygen was something extraordinary. As if my needing to breathe was an intimate sort of thing for him to witness.
“You told me it’s just business.”
“You’re not telling me your story,” Dom murmured. “Why should I inform you of mine?”
“Fine. Can you take a step back?”
Dom looked resigned, but he respected my request. He took a step away so now there was a whole six inches between us. It didn’t do much to help with the pressure in my chest, but it felt slightly less intimate without his concrete arms wrapped around me in a way that felt both welcome and protective and slightly intimidating all at once.
“So the silver bullets didn’t actually happen?” I ventured, trying for some sort of truce. “You were just baiting me?”
Dom gave a quiet cluck, a shake of his head. “No, Trixie. You weren’t trying to kill me with anything except exasperation. There were no bullets; I only made that up to get you to confess to making the potion in the first place.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“I will say, I was surprised when I sat on the edge of my bed to find that it only had three legs. And I admit the railings on my balcony that disappeared could’ve turned deadly if I was stupid enough to go out there. However, the gigantic crucifixes plastered to every inch of the wall in my living room was a nice touch, I’ll give you that.”
I blinked at him, recognized the latter as a joke, and gave a reluctant sort of laugh.
Dom lifted a hand, stroked a finger against my chin. “You may be the most powerful witch I’ve ever encountered, but you’re not the only one who has access to potions.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Let’s say I’m working on a thank you letter for my morning surprise.” Dom winked. “Have a good day, Trixie.”
Then he was gone, leaving behind a scent that felt timeless, old. Like it’d been around for ages. Cedar and spice and something else I couldn’t put my finger on. And coffee, because I was still holding the one he’d bought for me.
Emmy appeared a few seconds later, her eyes wide.
“So, that went well,” she said. “I couldn’t tell if he wanted to suck your blood or take you to bed.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, thinking that I was sort of unclear as to the exact dynamics of our relationship as well.
“So I guess we wait?” Emmy said. “Do you think he’s going to make good on his promise?”
“I think Dominic Kent means every word he says.”
Chapter 12
Dominic
“Vix, get me my potion master, please.”
My well-paid head of security sighed on the other end of the line. I’d been making her earn her keep around here lately.
“Seriously, Dominic?” Vix groaned. “I’ve got a half-alive reporter I’m trying to revive while simultaneously clearing his memories. You’re already onto something else?”
“I didn’t kill the reporter,” I said defensively. “I followed your orders.”
“Yes, you did a very good job of that,” Vix said sarcastically. “You stopped just short, then gave me the fun job of keeping him alive, wiping his memory, and generally cleaning up your mess. Well done, you. Gold star.”
“That’s what I pay you to do.”
Vix clicked her tongue at me. “It’s overtime, boss.”
“I pay you more money than you could ever need in your lifetime,” I said. “And you’re immortal.”
