Page 48 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Five

I still have keys to the coffee shop so when I call Rita to ask her if I can have the flower, she says, “I was wondering when you’d ask,” and then tells me to go ahead and let myself in.

Bran and Cal and Keiko and Baspin all come to the coffee shop with me. It’s late now and most of the shops on the street are closed, so we don’t look too out of place, a merry band of vampire, shifter, and fae entering a witch’s coffee shop.

The others wait in the front while Bran and I make our way to the back. I find the jar right where I spotted it before, tucked in between books and other jars full of various witchy goodies.

Gingerly, I bring the jar down and inspect the flower inside. The petals look just as velvety as I remember them, but the stamen has a slight glow to it that I didn’t notice before.

“You haven’t said much about this plan.” I look up at Bran, hovering by the doorway.

“All of it is a risk to you and so I am worried about every part of it.”

There’s no emotion in his voice, but his words are telling enough. Bran has gotten really good over the years at hiding his emotions, but I like that he doesn’t mince words with me anymore.

He tells me like it is, even if it shows his vulnerabilities.

“Just think of how amazing our lives will be if we can get over this hump.”

He snorts. “You say that like it’s a flat tire or an unwanted bill.”

“I’m optimistic.”

“I’ve never had patience for optimism.”

“I know.” I go to him, clutching the flower jar close to my chest, almost like it’s a baby. “You’re more pragmatic. Just stab people who don’t agree with you.”

He tries to pretend like that doesn’t amuse him, but it does. I can see the glint in his eye.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Yes, fine, little mouse. I like killing people who get in my way. If that makes me pragmatic, then so be it.”

I grow serious. “I don’t want to kill Arion. He’s the only real family I have left.”

Bran tilts his head, examining me. “You do know that blood means nothing when one is trying to kill you.”

“You can’t tell me you and Damien haven’t tried to kill each other once or twice.”

“Of course we have. The difference is, he and I are immortal, and we are very hard to kill for real. You age slowly and heal quicker than mortals. But you are not invincible. Not like a vampire.”

“Thanks for pointing out my deficiencies.”

“I’m serious, Mouse. One must always know their limitations. You can’t win a war by pretending you have none.”

For a second I fall into his trap and I believe him. After all, I’ve spent most of my life believing I had many, many limitations in a town full of supernatural beings that had none.

But I’m not that girl anymore.

Like Bran already told me, I never was her.

I was always a fae princess, always careening toward war, whether I knew it or not.

“Do you believe in me?” I ask him.

He uncrosses his arms. “I believe in your determination,” he admits. “I worry about your recklessness.” His gaze goes distant, like he’s trapped by a thought.

“And?” I prompt.

“And—” His eyes dart back to me, irises just beginning to glow amber. “And if I lost you, I would come undone. So I worry about your recklessness, about you getting hurt. And most of all, I worry about who I would become if I lost you.”

---