Page 35 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Four

I’m worried for my sister. I have yet to check in on her. I’m terrified of what I might find or how it’ll make me feel to see her helpless in bed yet again, all because of me.

If I push it down deep and focus on this instead—go, go, go—maybe the wait for answers about my sister won’t be so hard to endure.

Sam sits beside me and her can clangs open when she flicks the tab. She takes a long gulp and then hands it off to me. I could use the caffeine.

“So you want to tell me how last night went with the Alpha?” I ask.

Speaking of ways to distract myself from my own problems…

Sam takes the can back after I’ve had a long drink. “We barely spoke in his truck. There isn’t much to report.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing. I’m just going to ignore him until he goes away.”

I laugh. “I have a suspicion that someone like Cal does not just go away.”

Sam rolls her eyes.

“Maybe he—” My words are cut off by a shadow in the waiting room doorway. I look up to see Arion, Lord of the Summer Court, leaning casually against the door frame.

“Hello, faeling,” he says. “I hear you’re trying to unearth my secrets. Let me save you the trouble.” He moves with an ethereal quickness that catches me off guard. And suddenly he’s standing in front of me, hauling me to my feet.

Episode 63

A Warning Poke

Arion, Lord of the Summer Court, spins me around and slams me against the nearest wall. He towers over me, his scent everywhere. Like thistle and honeysuckle and something richer, darker, like rainwater soaking stone.

“You don’t get to know my secrets,” he says. “You don’t get to ask questions. You don’t—” He cuts himself off with a hiss of air between his teeth.

The smell of iron and burning flesh drives away the heady scent of fae lord.

“Put her down,” Sam says.

Sam has a tool in her hand that looks like a Swiss Army Knife. But this one is built for supernatural weapons. The tool flipped open is a small iron knife and Sam has it pressed to Arion’s throat.

Arion turns to her slowly. The blade pierces flesh and blood beads from the cut. “Careful, mortal,” he says.

Sam narrows her eyes. “I said, ‘Put her down.’”

Arion’s fingers exert more pressure on my throat, breaking off my supply of air. My lungs burn. My ears are ringing. I may be fae, but I still have to breathe.

Sam turns the point of the blade against Arion’s jugular. “Try me.”

Smoke curls in the air between us before the fae lord finally relents and drops me. I sputter, sucking in air. He stands back and folds his hands behind him like this was all a minor misunderstanding.

When I’m able to fill my lungs with a full breath, I straighten and smooth over my shirt. When Bran finds out about this, and there’s no doubt he will, I will never hear the end of it.

But I’m determined to navigate this new terrain with some measure of autonomy. I love Bran and I know he’ll do everything in his power to protect me. I just need to prove to myself that I don’t always need him to save me.

“I am not your enemy,” I say.

“Does that make you an ally, faeling?” Arion tilts his head in consideration. “Allies do not dig for secrets they have not earned.”

Well, he has me there.

I rub at the sore spot of flesh beneath my jawline. “I needed to know what I was dealing with. You can’t blame me for that.”

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