Page 16 of Violet

Chapter 7

Cash

“I wasn’t teasing,” I tell Violet gently. She doesn’t look like she believes me, but it’s the truth.

I’ve spent hundreds of years searching for her... my mate. Not the thirty or forty years some humans spend. Not even fifty or sixty. It’s been three times that, and in all those years, I never gave up hope.

I traveled the world. I lived in every supernatural town. I’ve been to every continent. I visited human towns and combed human cities. For years, I’ve searched, and searched, and searched... and to think, I almost missed her. My Violet.

I inhale her scent, and relief floods my veins. Because I can smell it on her, smell time ticking away. If I hadn’t moved to Silver Springs when I did, it may have been too late. And if I hadn’t signed up as a volunteer with For the Love of Reading, I may have lost her before I’d even found her.

I let my eyes roam over her, memorizing every detail. And I swear, I have never met a woman more wonderful, more precious... or more annoyed with me.

“I’m old enough to be your grandmother,” Violet snaps, censure dripping from her voice.

“I’m over two hundred, remember?” I shrug. Why is it that mortals—even supernatural mortals—always insist on being bound by age constraints?

“Look at me, Cash.” Violet gestures between us. “And look at you.”

“I am looking. And what I see is a fun, beautiful, mischievous woman I want to get to know.”

“Mischievous?” She looks absolutely aghast.

“I meant it as a compliment.” I wink.

Her pulse spikes in response. I can smell it. Hear it. And the vampire side of me glows with satisfaction.

“Violet, you could be a thousand for all I care. If I weren’t born a blood mage, I’d be... well... a pile of bones and ash, I suppose. But before that, I’d look your age... assuming I lived that long. Few humans survived past fifty back then, if that.”

“Well, you look twenty-five,” Violet insists, as if it somehow makes a difference.

“I would have guessed eighteen,” Betty says.

“Again, over two hundred.” I frown, trying to figure out if Violet’s friend is messing with me. She’s impossible to read, but between this and suggesting a blood mage should be called a blitch, she can’t possibly be serious. “Plus, age is just a number.”

I just have to convince Violet of that first... before she realizes if she’s not too old, then I am.

“Cash is right,” Betty surprises me by saying. “What really matters is who you are on the inside.”

“Exactly! And I don’t care how old you look, Violet.”

Why would gray hair and a few wrinkles make a lick of difference when I can turn her? I just have to win her over first. Seduce her. Do whatever it takes to prove to her that we’re meant to be.

I wish I could take my time, take things slow, but at her age, I have no choice. I have to make her mine before it’s too late.

“Well, I care!” Violet snaps.

I kind of like it. Not her protests or her rising panic, but her spirit. I like the fire in her eyes. I even like her cat-eye glasses. And I know I’ll like the real Violet—who she is deep down—once I get to know her. I have trust in our mating bond and the fact that we’re meant to be.

“I just want to spend time with you,” I tell her gently. “Maybe after the program’s done, we could grab lunch?”

Again, her pulse spikes, and my eyes land on her throat. I can practically smell her blood pulsing beneath her skin, tempting me, but I would never take a single sip. Not when she needs every ounce of that blood to survive.

“Why me?” Violet demands, like finding true love is the worst possible thing to have happened to her, not the best.

“We’re meant to be, Violet. We’re mates.”

“M-mates?” Her eyes widen with genuine surprise, and her wildly beating heart confirms she isn’t faking it.