Page 76 of Kiss of Blood and Sin

I forced a smirk, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. “Someone was dumb enough to break into your home? What, did they mistake it for a supernatural bed and breakfast?”

“Apparently. A witch. I need you to drive me to Simon Cartier’s Ravenwood Estate. If anybody’s got those items, it’sthat slimy bastard. He’ll pay for having a witch break into my home.”

Witch? Petar said he was going to frame a witch, but how the hell did he do it? I wasn’t about to look this gift horse in the mouth though. At least Angelo’s murderous gaze wasn’t focused on me for once.

I scanned the bedroom. “Wait, where’s Gianna?”

“Downstairs. The bridal seamstresses are coming here to have her try on her new wedding gown.”

I exhaled a breath of relief and stretched, wincing slightly. “What time is it? Because if it’s before noon, I’m charging overtime.”

“Almost dawn. You’ve been asleep for almost eight hours. Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty.” He slammed the door hard enough to make the windows rattle.

“No ‘How are you feeling?’ No ‘Hope you’re better.’ Your bedside manner could use some work!” I called after him, grumbling as I hauled myself up.

Every muscle felt like it had been through a supernatural CrossFit session, but the scratches had healed. Eight hours? I’d never slept that long. But I felt as strong as the Hulk, if the Hulk were devastatingly handsome and partial to blood.

Then it hit me like a vervain-laced sledgehammer—the Solarite Ring. If I used it at dawn, I could melt those damn Malefic Puppets faster than a popsicle in hell!

Gianna and Valentin would both be safe.

Using vampire speed that would make The Flash jealous, I grabbed the ring from the pants I’d been wearing last night, grateful that it remained in the pocket through everythingthat happened. As I slipped it on, tingles swept up my arm like I’d stuck my finger in a very localized electrical socket.

I sauntered onto the balcony, the pre-dawn air as crisp as my patience was thin. If anyone caught me out here, I'd be a very dead, very handsome ex-chauffeur. With a smirk that would make any self-respecting villain jealous, I muttered, "Time to light up these puppets like it's the Fourth of July."

I raised the ring, channeling my inner warlock-wannabe:

"Sol ascendens, potentia crescens. Maleficium dissolvatur, puppis liberentur."

A pause for dramatic effect. "Solarite ring, do your thing!"

A stream of sunlight flickered over the ring like a cosmic spotlight. I tossed my head back, feeling like I was starring in my own supernatural shampoo commercial. My body shook, warmth spilling over me like I’d just chugged a gallon of hot blood.

Suddenly, a scream echoed through the house, loud enough to wake the dead (and in this place, that was a real possibility). I recognized it immediately—Petar’s.

“Well,” I muttered, a grin spreading across my face, “looks like someone’s puppet show just got canceled. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”

As the sun continued to rise, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of triumph. Take that, Petar. This vampire’s got a few tricks up his sleeve...or rather, on his finger.

The door flew open with a bang that would’ve made a lesser vampire jump out of his skin. “Dimitri, what the hell did you do?”

I turned around, a chuckle bubbling up from my chest. The sight before me was better than any pay-per-view event.

Petar stood there, looking like he’d lost a fight with a candle factory. Hot goo dripped down his fingers, making a plop, plop sound on the hardwood floor. Splatters of the same stuff decorated his face like the world’s worst skincare routine.

My lips curled into an amused smirk. “Looks like your deadly Play-Doh dolls didn’t stand up to the heat. Maybe try Legos next time? I hear they’re indestructible.”

He stomped over to me, leaving a trail of waxy footprints. His face was a delightful shade of pissed-off red. “What else did you steal?” He gritted his teeth and was close enough that I could smell his fear-tinged breath.

I leaned in, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Sorry. That’s a cat burglar’s secret. If you reveal my secret, then I’ll tell Angelo about the mirror. And something tells me he’s not big on sharing his toys.”

Petar hissed like an angry tea kettle, but before he could respond, heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. It sounded like the vampire version of a stampede.

His face went from angry red to ghost-white faster than you could say busted. Angelo stormed into the room, his presence filling the space like an angry storm cloud.

“What the hell’s going on in here?” His gaze swept over Petar, taking in the waxy disaster. “What the fuck happened to you?”

I chuckled. “Let me guess—surprise cake attack?”

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