Page 36 of A Bond with the Dark

“Do you feel any better? Your heart anyway?”

“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. I’m not aware if the magick is helping anything except the strange dreams I’ve been having.

“Well, I’m a believer in magick. I say you keep doing it until your heart feels better.”

I smile at him. “I hope so.”

We switch to small talk for the rest of the drive.

When we arrive, he runs to my side of the car again and opens the door for me.

“Such a gentleman,” I say as I take his hand to help me out.

“I try to be the exception. It’s insane to me how men treat ladies these days.”

“I know, right? I find it hard to believe men like you still exist.”

“Such a shame, really,” he responds, holding my hand to the door, where he opens it for me.

I nod in thanks and walk in.

“Hi, welcome to Blue Agave,” the blonde hostess addresses us as we enter. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, under Sangravelli,” Dominic replies nicely.

Dominic Sangravelli. Has a nice ring to it.

“Right this way, Mr. Sangravelli.” The young hostess leads us to a table in the back.

The restaurant’s ambiance is dark and quiet; all the tables are adorned with candlelit vases that sit on tables clad in white linen. Scents of carne asada and the sounds of fajitas sizzling make my stomach grumble.

When we arrive at our table, Dominic holds the chair out for me. I nod, sit, and slip out of my coat.

As he sits across from me, our waitress takes our drink orders.

“I’ll take a bourbon on the rocks, top shelf. And she’ll take a virgin daiquiri.”

The waitress smiles and is on her way to fetch them.

“So, my sexy witchy lady, tell me all about you.”

“What would you like to know?”

“I want to know it all.” He grins. His stormy eyes are dark green with flecks of Baltic amber. They are on me, and I feel that pull again like I’m being drawn into his force field.

I smile back, wondering where to start.

As if he reads my mind, he says, “You can start with if you have siblings and your parents.”

I eye him curiously. “I have one sister, but I don’t lay claim to her at all. We had a falling out years ago, and since then, I haven’t spoken to her.”

“Oh, okay. What happened?”

“She has always hated me. Growing up, we were never close. She wasn’t close to my parents either, but when they divorced, she chose to live with my dad, and I lived with my mom. She fell hard into drugs in her teens and just spiraled from there. She’s never met my son and didn’t even come around when I was sick.”

“That’s terrible. She sounds like a lost soul.”

“Absolutely. I think she was born with a dark, dark soul. I cannot describe her. She emanates darkness. When I’m around her, I feel drained, as though she’s sucking the very life force from me. We shouldn’t talk.”

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