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The Midnight House

Page 72

by January Bell

Twenty-Six

Vivienne

Despite how delicious the pasta is, how perfectly seasoned the sauce, every minute that ticks by leaves a feeling of dust in my mouth. I can't help thinking that this might be my last meal.

Trembling, I set my fork down, well aware of Lachlan's gaze on me.

"Lass, you'll need your strength for what's to come," he says slowly, eyeing all of the food left on my plate.

"I know. Okay, I know, but I'm afraid if I eat anymore, I'm gonna hurl."

"It did work in your favor the last time you encountered House Sanguine," he says, arching an eyebrow.

I manage to snort a laugh, some of the pressure relieved by the sheer absurdity of that comment and the fact that it's true. "How has it only been two weeks?" I ask him, dabbing my lips with the napkin and then placing it back in my lap. “It feels like I’ve known you… a long time.”

"You're not wrong," Lachlan says, chewing thoughtfully. "If you'd asked me if I would've found my—" He clears his throat. "—fiancée when I first saw you, I would have told you you're crazy."

"Why were you there?" I ask suddenly, my brow furrowing as I stare up at him.

"You're gonna be shocked to hear this, lass," he says, settling his forearms on the table. It rocks slightly under his weight, but he doesn't move, just stares at me with those dark, intense eyes.

Heat flares through me, and I fight the urge to look away because there's no reason to be embarrassed. For one, he's here to guard me. For two, he swore an oath to protect me. And for three, we're also engaged, so he can look at me however the hell he wants. It's not my fault that I physically respond to it.

"I've been working against House Sanguine for a long time. And the rest of the corrupt houses, of course. Dabbled a little bit in black-market dealings. You know, taking important artifacts from Sanguine and the others, making sure they don't accumulate more power than I can stop them from getting. The usual."

He gives a little shrug, and my eyes track the way his powerful muscles move under his shirt.

"Black-market artifacts," I repeat. "Okay." I waggle my eyebrows. "Anything fun?"

He lets out a booming laugh, and half the restaurant turns to look at him. "Many things are fun. Many. But not one of them is as fun as you've been," he says, then tips his water glass to me in a mock salute before drinking it dry. "Well then, if you're done with your food, we may as well get going."

"Wait," I say, suddenly desperate. "Isn't there something else that we should do? Anything else? I—I'm not ready. I don't know what to expect." I smooth my hands down my dress nervously, not failing to notice the way his gaze glides down the fabric with my hands.

"Lass, there's nothing you can do to be ready for these rituals. Just keep your wits about you, remember that you have your own magic, and know that if anyone tries anything, they'll have me to deal with. And I turn into a fucking bear."

He gives me a long look, and I finally give him an awkward smile and nod.

"Alright then, I'm ready. How do we get there? Are we going to pop in like last time?"

"Aye, lass. We'll 'pop' in like last time." He puts air quotes around the word pop, then shakes his head. "I don't think I want you to know the formal words for these things. I like the way you talk about them."

"What's the formal word for it? Magical transport? Zip-zappity-zooda-day?" I wriggle my fingers like an idiot.

"Yeah, that's not what it is, lass. But if that's what you want to call it, I'd like to see the vampires get a load of you."

"So they're all vampires?" I ask him as he sets money on the table then stretches a hand out for me to follow him.

"No, they're not all vampires, and would that they were. Blood mages, blood magic—all sorts of nasty business House Sanguine is known for. Sometimes they're vampires and blood mages both."

"So for the uninitiated—" I gesture at myself theatrically. "What exactly does a blood mage do?"

"Blood magic," Lachlan says easily.

"Right," I draw out the word. "What does that mean, Lachlan?" I say, putting an emphasis on each word.

"They can control your mind, your blood, your body. It used to be they were renowned healers. But now..." He shakes his head.

"Say less. My stomach hurts." I hold up a hand to keep him from saying anything else. "I get it now. They do the opposite of healing."