Page 63 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Three

The things you did, Jessie…you were only a year old and it terrified me.

What could I do at such a young age to terrify my mother enough that she bound me?

And now that I’m twenty-one…

I place my hand over my beating heart and wish someone could just tell me these terrifying things I’m capable of.

Maybe if I knew, I could help protect my sister.

Because the fae gate has been closed since I was born, my knowledge of them and their abilities is minimal.

We are two days away from the new moon Rita said she needed to undo the binding, but…is it possible to weaken it?

I sit upright in bed as a thought comes to me.

Whenever my necklace is off, the taste of fae is much stronger in my blood. Bran said maybe when the necklace is off, the magic thins.

I toss the blanket back and click on the bedside lamp. I don’t hear much beyond the bedroom.

I dress quickly in jeans and a t-shirt, then slip on a pair of tennis shoes.

Out in the main part of the Anneliese, I find my sister in the kitchen making a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” I say. “How are you?”

She looks tired, but there’s a new glow to her cheeks.

“I’m okay,” she says. “You?”

I shrug. “Impatient for today to be over.”

She brings the mug to her mouth and breathes across it, stirring the steam. “You and me both.”

“Where’s Bran?”

“He and Damien are in the main house discussing strategy for today.”

I worry at my bottom lip, contemplating what I’m about to do. Bran will be pissed. But his anger is worth it if I can help my sister. I suspect I only know the half of what she’s done to protect me since Mom died.

“I’m gonna go to the main house,” I tell Kelly. “If you see Bran before I do, will you let him know?”

“Sure.” Kelly’s gaze is distant and glassy as she takes another sip from the coffee.

“Thanks.”

She doesn’t respond, which is just as well considering what I’m about to do.

Somehow, I make it out of Duval House without anyone questioning me. I find the Bimmer in the parking lot and drive off without any trouble at all. I feel a little guilty as Duval House fades in the rear-view mirror.

Since it’s mid-afternoon, I know I can probably find Rita at the coffeeshop.

I park outside and head in, the bells chiming above the door when I open it.

Rita looks up. “Jessie, hi. Happy birthday!” She frowns, then adds, “What are you doing here?”

“I need a favor.”

The frown deepens and aged lines appear on her forehead. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this favor?”

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