Wicked Soul (Ancient Blood #1)(50)
“Nope, that’s not how this is going to go down. I don’t know how things are between vampire friends, but you don’t get to roll up into my apartment and boss me around, dude. Now, I appreciate that you’re just trying to protect me, and I am grateful for that. Truly. But I get a say in this too, and that say is that these witches will help us. So I need you—" I unwrapped one arm to poke him in the chest, “—to pull yourself together. Just because some witches are apparently murderous bastards, it doesn’t mean they’re all bad. Like not all vampires are bad. And this High Priestess is a really good person, I promise. So, you and I are going to calm down, and tomorrow we’re going to meet her and her coven so we can get to the bottom of who’s trying to murder me and poison the blood supply. Okay?”
Warin blinked, his eyes wider than before, as if he couldn’t quite believe I’d told him “no.” But then again, a fancy vampire Lord probably wasn’t used to having people disagree with his decrees.
“It’s for the best, Warin,” I continued, gentling my tone. “Deep down, you know it.”
He drew in a deep, unnecessary breath, and finally nodded. “Fine. For you, I will meet with this priestess. But I must warn you, Liv. I am doing this only out of respect for you. Any hint of deceit, and this will not end well for them. Are you prepared for that?”
I nodded, deciding against telling him about the curse. The way his eyes were still dark with anger, I didn’t think it’d make things go any smoother if he realized what kind of precaution Joana had put in place. “Just… no bloodshed. Please.”
Warin reached out and briefly touched his hand to my cheek. “I will strive to avoid it. I am so sorry that you have been pulled into this world.”
I smiled and patted his hand before I sat back down on the couch, curling my legs up under me. “Sometimes we don’t really get a choice in what life throws our way. And if I had to choose between this and never meeting you… I’d choose this every time. Now please, come. Sit down so I can draw you.”
* * *
I had to Google Isla, and when a hip-looking nightclub in downtown Chicago popped up on my screen, shoot a text to confirm the location with Raven.
I’d never really considered nightclubs to be the place supernatural beings went to discuss business, but according to Raven, it was the right place. And, according to her, the dress-code was black eyeliner, bare skin, and sweat.
So the next night, while I waited for Warin to pick me up, I spent hours in front of the mirror, attempting to get my very laid-back self back into the shape of a girl who was used to wearing makeup and doing her hair. Before Warin, I spent most evenings on the couch watching reality TV under a blanket, just living life to its fullest. These days, the TV had been swapped out for a handsome vampire, but still… I had to rummage in my closet for a good ten minutes before I managed to pull out a black spaghetti-strapped dress from behind the mountain of t-shirts, sweaters and jeans.
When Warin finally pressed the buzzer to my door phone shortly before nine, I’d managed to press myself into an old push-up bra that had my breasts threatening to spill out over the low neckline of my—as it turned out, once I’d screwed myself into it—rather skanky dress. My hair was up in a Dutch braid I’d spent forty solid minutes watching YouTube tutorials to get right, I had a liberal helping of black eyeliner smeared around my eyes, and I held onto my third glass of pre-meeting-witches-who-have-a-curse-on-me wine as I swung the door open and greeted the vampire with a wide smile.
“Hello, handsome!” I said—and immediately regretted it when his eyebrows crept up half an inch at the sight of me. “Er, I mean… c’mon in.”
Silently, he stepped over the threshold, not moving his gaze from me.
“I just need to finish up,” I said, making flapping motions toward the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable.”
It’s a testament to Warin’s patience that I didn’t hear him so much as clear his throat while I applied the last of my mascara, fussed with my hair, and spent five full minutes bouncing in the bathroom to ensure my boobs wouldn’t escape.
When I returned to the living room, now with an empty wine glass, I found him by my bookshelf, leafing through one of my spiritual books.
“Well look who’s being all open minded,” I teased as I sat the empty glass down on the kitchen counter and grabbed my black clutch. “Looking for tips for the meeting?”
He didn’t answer—just put the book down and stared intently at me.
“What? Is my foundation caked?” I rubbed self-consciously at my cheek.
“I asked a few of my Guard to join us, just in case the witches are plotting a trap.”
I blinked, confused at the subject change. “I mean, as long as they don’t start snacking on anyone, I’m sure that’s fine. They can hardly expect you to show up with just a tipsy human as backup.”
He hummed, full lips flattening to a tight line.
“What?”
“You need to stay close,” he said, giving me one lingering look before he moved toward the door. He waited for me there, one hand resting on the handle.
I shot him a confused look as I joined him. “Why?”
“You look like vampire bait, little one,” he said as he opened the door for me, a ghost of a smile easing the stern look on his pale face. “And I won’t be the only nightwalker present.”