Page 6 of Queen of Vampire Hearts

It took the fae queen’s interruption and his disappearance to snap me out of it. Free of hisallure, I rifted back to the mortal realm from the balcony, not even bothering to say goodbye. I needed to get away. He’d already scrambled my mind too much in such a short period. If I’d waited, I didn’t know what would have happened. Absently, I touched my lips, remembering the plea in his voice when he asked me to wait for him.

The way his body tensed, brimming with barely contained malice, the way his eyes roamed my body with such...possession.If he knew the truth about my powers, he wouldn’t have left me alone. If I’d stayed, I didn’t know if I would have been able to leave. So I took a major risk and opened a rift, a decision that would likely bite me in the ass sooner rather than later.

I should only be using my power to rift in case of emergencies. Otherwise, it painted a big trackable target on my back.Hello! Escaping from immortal males who look like they could fuck me into the next century definitely qualifies.

Rifts, little tears in reality, allow immortals, and mortals if they are unlucky enough to stumble into one, to travel to all the mystical realms connected to this one.Mostrifts were specifically designatedrift zonescreated at the beginning of time. These zones were regulated, like the one in and out of Tír nAill, but some witches, usually a group of six or more powerful ones, could create temporary ones. Together, they would pool their power and create a tear in our reality, opening a doorway to a place of their choosing. Temporary rifts required a massive amount of energy and magic to create, and the power of multiple witches was a necessity. A witch could kill themself exerting the energy necessary to slam two realities together. Then there was me, the exception, thefreak.

My hand dropped from my lips, and I unlocked the front door of my shotgun apartment. It was close enough to Tulane’s campus for raucous sounds to filter through the thin walls. The paint on the front door was peeling, and I reached out to trace the biggest crack. The tip of my finger caught at the apex, and suddenly it was a different door with a distinct crack. My touch cut a trail through blood, dark crimson spilling down the white paint. It slid down my finger, joining the blood covering my palm. Then the screams started, my screams.

Several drunken fraternity boys called out to me, yanking me back into the present. I gave them a small smile and, under my breath, cursed them with a vicious hangover the next morning. What could I say? I was a bitch like that.

It took three very precise jiggles of my key and a slam with my shoulder to get the door open. Though my apartment was an absolute dump, not even a broke college student would consider renting, and my landlord asked no questions. He never asked why I paid in cash every month, why strange energy pulsed from the walls, why my black cat appeared to be in multiple places at once. Hells, in this city, it was just another Tuesday for him.

New Orleans was a city of strange. Most locals shrugged off the weird daily occurrences as merely another aspect of the city. None guessed at the many immortals hiding in their midst, or maybe they were just too drunk to care. Immortals flocked to cities like New Orleans. It was easier to blend in when you could hide in plain sight. I’d seen several death demons in full demon form walking down Bourbon Street the other day. Not a single person batted an eye even with their chalk skin, massive horns, and tails. Later, I saw them taking shots with some tourists at the Bourbon Cowboy. Some sought the notoriety, a city full of their kind, others, like me, the anonymity to be just another in their number. With the sheer amount of witches calling this city their home, on top of the Voodoo practitioners, I was just another face in the crowd. Which didn’t mean I was completely safe here or anywhere.

My familiar, a small black cat, greeted me as the door opened. It took me another three tries to get the key out of the lock, and I made a mental note to get my landlord to fix that. I cooed to the animal, setting down my keys and closing the door before striding to my closet. It was really a garment rod, and a sheet held up by a wire attached to the ceiling. I removed my now ruined gown, shivering as I unzipped the back. I attempted to distract myself from the memory of Lucien as I walked to my bathroom. The familiar creaking of the old floorboards beneath me did nothing to ground me in the present. Maybe after a cold shower, or three, I would be able to forget his touch.

Beneath the icy spray, I tried not to feel Lucien’s hands on me. I bit back a groan at the memory of his mouth against my ear and the rumble of his voice as he whispered into my ear. His hands were rougher than I expected, gliding over my curves. He’d demanded my obedience, and I’d surrendered, helpless not to. My eyes closed as my hands followed the path his had taken. I could almost smell him. My eyes flashed open, and I slammed my hand against the shower wall. I had to stop this! My libido was what got me into this mess in the first place.

It was harsh but true. My taste in men was not exactly what you would callspectacular. Usually, when I found a guyhot,it meant,will betray me in the immediate future.Even males of undetermined origins who acted like their life depended on pleasuring me.

I stepped from the shower, shivering in the cooler temperature. I changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt before falling spread eagle onto my pitiful bed, the cheap metal frame creaking loudly. Another night wasted, no leads on my target, and my grimoires even further out of reach.

Nothing was more sacred to a witch than their family’s grimoire. All part of our Great Initiation into the world of immortality, when we are brought before the Council and gifted our full powers and immortality. A blessing handed down from the first witch touched by Hekate. The Witches Council had a big ceremony for each new witch. Idly, my hand traced down my stomach, remembering the formal robes, the chanting, and the feeling of pride, ofunity. I remembered my aunt’s eyes sparkling as she placed the two massive tomes in my hands.

Aunt Caroline.A pang of despair slammed through me, making me sit up.Not going there, nope.I shook my head hard, forcing away the sensation of smoke-filled lungs. Instead, I focused on the familiar creak the ancient tomes made when I first opened them, the whispers of spells and curses calling to me. Grimoires were everything to witches. So much so that losing one, or even showing it to a non-witch, was a crime. Three guesses what I’d done. Yes, I’d shown it to my boyfriend, and worse, he was a vampire.

Apparently, being an immortal witch didn’t preclude you from becoming the most dreaded of forms—a Karen.I’d hidden the relationship from the Witches Council. They tended to execute first and ask questions never. Though dating outside our species wasn’ttechnicallyagainst their archaic laws, I had been cautious. The Karens were relentless. They tended to judge a witch for dating outside of the coven with the intensity of demanding to speak to the manager. It was a decision that bit me on the ass when I was dragged before the Council to account for my crimes. Not only had I hidden the relationship, but I’d shown him my treasured grimoires.

There had been all of that, which was bad enough, but then there was my...other crime.

How was I supposed to know he was going to steal them and disappear? At first, I’d thought someone had kidnapped him, that he’d stumbled across someone trying to steal the books and intervened, but there were too many signs pointing to his betrayal. And then, I couldn’t track him down because of my own fucking idiocy.

The Witches Council had ignored my pleas for leniency. Loss or theft of a grimoire was a major crime, with no exceptions, but losing two grimoires meant death.They’d sentenced me to burn at the stake, despite such a punishment not being enforced since the witch trials.

Lucky Me.

Well, if I were honest with myself, theother crimewould have justified the execution, but I hadn’t committedit yet. They had charged me with it, anyway, and somewhere, someplace, John Adams was rolling in his grave.Yet, I refused to stop trying to undo the damage I’d done. I needed to get the grimoires back before being executed.It would be delusional to think it would erase what happened, but maybe,justmaybe, things could go back to normal.I had to try.

I couldn’t just run and run and run for eternity. There had to be hope on the horizon that one day I couldrest,andit had already been almost a decade. I let out a long sigh at the thought. It had been ten years with no friends, no family, no roots. I rarely stayed longer than three months in any place before moving to a new city. I searched out the places I knew had a large immortal presence, such as NOLA.

Rule No. 5: Abandon everything at a moment’s notice.

No one noticed when I moved. I existed as a ghost, keeping everyone at a distance, never feeling connected anywhere. No friends, no familiarity, no community, all the things I took for granted when I was a part of the Council. I’d learned my lessons well.

Rule No. 1: Trust no one.

The Council hounded me, sending immortals and mortals after me, hoping to make me pay for my crimes. I’m their enemy number one—please hold your applause, and autographs are by appointment only. However, if I knew anything about the Council, it was that they would never, ever, think I would be hiding in their own backyard. They would never believe that I dared to take shelter in immortal rich cities with big Council presences.

Rule No. 2: Use your enemy’s strengths against them.

The Council was arrogant, assuming their intimidating posturing would have me cowering in fear in some hole across the world. I did so love proving them wrong. They could scry for me with their crystals every day for the rest of eternity and never find me. I had ensured that I was protected from magical tracking, which meant I only had to keep an eye out fornon-magicaltracking. Also known as,don’t be fucking stupid, and you live another day.

I stayed away from people who might be out to betray me. I didn’t get attached to anyone. My interactions with the opposite sex were to scratch an itch and nothing more.Except…I trailed the back of my fingers down my breasts and thighs, feeling Lucien’s touch all over again. I’d never felt such pleasure, and just imagining it… I shook myself before I got carried away again.

My small black cat approached, launching herself onto the bed. Even her diminutive weight made the rusty springs creak. I pushed the hair back from my face, looking at the familiar. “I might have done something really fucking stupid tonight, Bast.”

The cat surveyed me with unblinking lilac eyes, identical to my own, and tilted her small head. “I didn’t get any information on someone who might be able to track down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” The cat appeared disappointed, curling into my side. “I got distracted.”

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