Page 31 of Protecting His Vampire Mate

I grimaced down into my cup. “I’d settle for one good cup, honestly.”

He shook his head, grinning at me. “Such a snob.”

I shrugged, secretly relieved that he no longer seemed trapped in his own pain. “I like what I like. I can’t help it.”

Tobias frowned thoughtfully at that, considering me. Then, with a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching us, he took my mug and pulled it closer to him. He held his hand over it, whispered something in a language I couldn’t place, then made a swirling motion over the cup.

“Try it now,” he said smugly, pushing it back toward me across the table.

I took an experimental sip and my eyes widened. It was perfect. Every bit of it was exactly what I needed it to be—sweet, sharp, strong, with subtle notes of chocolate and berries. It was exactly what my taste buds craved, exactly when they craved it.

It was, in fact, the best cup of coffee I’d ever had.

I meant to savor it, but instead, I practically downed it in one gulp, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

We grinned at each other.

“Nice trick, warlock. Wonder if you do birthday parties, too?”

Tobias and I both froze at the same moment.

Standing next to our booth were two men, both of them about our age, watching us with matching steely expressions. One of the pair was Native American. He was gorgeous in a knife-edged sort of way, with short spiky black hair, brown-black eyes, and high cheekbones. He wore a leather bomber jacket.

The other one was almost as pale as a vampire, and he’d clearly seen the inside of a gym. He was built like a linebacker, with thick ropes of muscle everywhere. His hair was buzzed short. He was still handsome, albeit in a very stereotypical jockish sort of way. Except that, unlike most jocks I’d ever seen, his dark gray eyes were cold, unfathomable, and hard like granite. He was dressed head-to-toe in black denim, with matching black cowboy boots.

I smelled gunpowder and steel. My eyes dropped to the telltale bulges in their jackets.

Both of them were armed.

“What’s a warlock?” Tobias asked, cocking his head to the side, clearly intent on playing dumb. “You guys must have the wrong idea. Halloween isn’t for another four months.”

Leather jacket shook his head. He gestured to the coffee mug. “We know what you did. And that means we know what you are.” He glanced over at me. “You a warlock too, pretty boy?”

“You don’t get to look at him, and you don’t get to fucking talk to him!” Tobias growled, moving from playing dumb to more menacing than I’d ever seen him, like someone flicking a light switch. “He stays out of this.”

Leather Jacket gave Tobias a sharp-edged smile. “We’ll stay out of your way, so long as you stay out of ours.”

Cowboy boots shot his partner a dark look, like he wanted to argue.

But then he turned back to us, scowling. “What he means is stay the hell out of our case. The lady from the morgue was sure there was something weird about our story after she ran into you two, even though she wasn’t sure why. She mentioned it to one of her cop friends, who called to check us out. You two almost blew our cover.”

“It’s lucky that we have friends in low places,” the other one muttered, seemingly to himself. “Look, If you’re going to fuck with someone’s mind, warlock, at least have the decency to put something else there. Don’t leave a big blank spot so that the person can start asking questions. It’s sloppy.”

“You’re the other FBI agents she mentioned, then.” Tobias laughed. He shook his head. “What, exactly, did you mean your case? What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Quit playing dumb. You know exactly what we mean,” Leather Jacket said. “The fucking house. It’s our job to fix it. Not yours. Not his,” he jerked his thumb in my direction. “Our job, our case. We mean it. This is your one and only warning. Get out of this town and don’t come back.”

Something went hard and cold and dangerous in Tobias’s gaze. “No.”

Cowboy Boots blinked, surprised. He traded a look with Leather Jacket before turning back to Tobias. Apparently, he wasn’t used to their tough guy act failing.

“No?”

“No,” Tobias repeated, his voice a rough and dangerous whisper. The lights overhead flickered ominously. “You want to threaten us? To threaten me? To threaten him?”

The light exploded overhead, as though to punctuate that last syllable.

It was then that I realized I had never seen Tobias angry before.

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