Page 13 of Perfectly Perfect Pixie

No. Calling Phil and Sedrick would be my last resort. I’d wait. I knew better than to think I’d do my waiting patiently. Sunset was hours away, and I’d most likely spend that time fussing and flying around the western boundary lines. I’d suck it up and deal with my anxiety, and as soon as the sun was on its way down, I’d head into town—to Dusk. I needed to speak with Lucroy. Who would have ever thought I’d need a vampire’s help?

ChapterSix

LUCROY

Iwoke to the setting sun. All vampires did. Most of us stayed holed up until the final rays passed beyond the horizon. I was old enough that dim sunlight didn’t kill me, but it made me weak and blistered my skin. Younger vamps could survive dim sunlight, but it could cause serious scarring, and they were often laid up for weeks, if not months, trying to heal.

Puttering around in my den, I popped the cork on a fresh bottle of blood. Bagged blood was just as good, but it lacked a certain style. I much preferred the bottled variety. It was a convenient ruse. I could almost convince my brain it was a fine wine. That façade wasn’t possible when you were staring down at a plastic bag.

“Hmm, a little more ogre blood than usual,” I mused. “Not as good, but still better than straight-up human.” It was satisfying, if not as enjoyable as past meals. Honestly, nothing compared to a fresh vein. My werewolf blood feast a few months ago had nearly spoiled me to the taste of anything else. Before that, it had been well over a hundred years since I’d had the pleasure. Weres didn’t like the idea of being food for vamps. Only the most desperate donated and desperate weres were evidently hard to come by.

Stomach full, I focused on my internal clock and realized it was late enough that only the last bits of twilight remained. I had no plans to leave Dusk tonight, but there were windows in the club, and one never knew what to expect when leaving the safety of their den. I hadn’t prevailed for over six hundred years by taking foolish chances.

Climbing the stairs, I straightened my suit jacket. It wasn’t too late to call Peaches. I’d check on the bar, make sure there were no catastrophe’s that required my attention, and then I’d find a quiet place to settle. Something deep inside craved Peaches’s voice—craved his blood. I didn’t want to explore that tendril too much, not only due to Horatio’s cautionary tale. There was something there, something that made me feel far more volatile than was safe. I enjoyed Peaches company a little too much. I could see myself getting attached, getting far too emotionally invested.

Peaches was a pixie, and not just a pixie, but a nature one. He was born for the sun. I, on the other hand, was not.

I swung the first steel door inward before opening the second. As the door swung wide, I was met with a golden haze. Instinctively, I stopped breathing.

“Peaches? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?” My eyes bled crimson, and my cracking, elongating limbs sounded loud to my ears. Something was definitely wrong.

Peaches was hovering, wings beating too rapidly to follow. Golden pixie dust filled the air and covered the area in a dense fog. Eyes wide and pleading, Peaches gripped the fabric of his shirt tight, twisting it to and fro.

“Lucroy. I need your help.” Peaches flew closer.

Most would do the opposite and create more distance. I was close to a full-blown transformation, and yet this slip of a pixie chose to decrease the distance between us.

“Are you injured?” The sound was garbled, barely words between the elongation of my teeth.

“No.” Peaches blew out a warm breath, the scent of apple heavy on the air. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s nothing like that. It’s . . . my orchard. It’s in trouble, and I think . . . I think maybe Arie has something to do with it.”

I hissed, long and low. The sound of that were’s name did little to calm me. “Arie Belview,” I spat.

Peaches nodded. “But I’m not sure, and I didn’t want to involve Phil and Sedrick. I don’t want to start something and cause more trouble if it’s not him. I . . . You were the only one I could think of that could help.” Peaches swallowed hard before he added, “And there’s something else I need your help with.”

My raging vampire instincts faded, easing down into something infinitely calmer. Peaches was in trouble, and he’d come to me. He’d chosen me. Hellfire Rayburn might have been a better, more logical choice, but his instincts had led him here. Pleasure ran through me at an alarming rate.

Closing my eyes, I counted to seven. By the time eight was on the horizon, I’d calmed enough to clear the red from my eyes. My hands appeared human, and my limbs had fallen in line. My fangs receded to their standard size, slightly longer than human canines and infinitely sharper.

“I’m glad you came to me, Peaches. Apologies for the less than congenial greeting.” I placed a hand on the dip in Peaches’s lower back, easing him toward a corner booth. “Would you like something to drink?” I asked, attempting to be the host I was known to be.

“Just a glass of water, please.”

It was Johnny’s night off, so I relayed the information to Lizbeth, and she met us at the booth with Peaches’s drink.

“Can I get anything for you, Mr. Moony?” Lizbeth politely asked.

“No, dear. I dined before heading up. Thank you. I’ll let you know if we require more assistance.”

“No worries.” Lizbeth gave Peaches a sympathetic glance before taking off toward the bar.

I gave Peaches room but stayed close. I didn’t want to crowd him, but my instincts said something different. They damn near demanded I pick him up or, at the very least, lay my hands on him. I hadn’t felt this drawn to anyone in . . . I tried to remember and couldn’t come up with a single instance. Six hundred years was a lot of time to sift through, but when there was no comparison, the trip was relatively short.

Peaches downed half the glass, and I watched his throat work as he swallowed. The motion made my belly flutter and my cock harden. The blood I’d just consumed headed south at an alarming rate.

“I’m sorry,” Peaches said again. “I should have called. I just keep popping up on you. I’m sure it’s annoying. I’m probably taking advantage of your friendship, and I—”

“Hush,” I soothed. “That’s nonsense. You are always welcome here, and you are far from annoying. Please, tell me what’s happened with your orchard. It looked beautifully well cared for and healthy when I was there last week.”

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