Page 6 of How to Dump a Vampire

The bread takes on a faint shimmer as the magic spreads evenly through it. There, this should help block Draven’s senses when I eventually serve the loaf, keeping the mating bond clouded. He’ll eat it without knowing a thing. Our paths will then part ways with no cosmic strings attaching us. I release a breath, satisfied.

You’re clever, Draven, but not as clever as me.This vampire might think he has the upper hand, but I have tricks up my sleeve too. Let’s see that over-confident grin when he tastes my spell-laced bread.

Magic zaps through me unexpectedly, and I yelp, shaking my singed hand. Blast! Gotta be careful not to overdo it while the loaf bakes. Just enough to mask the bond, not torch the whole cottage down.

I sneak another glance at Draven. Soon, fate’s meddling will be muted, and we can go our separate ways. It’s for the best, no matter the ache the thought strangely stirs in my heart.

Game on, Draven Fangface. Let the battle of wills commence, but fair warning—I’m no damsel to be trifled with. If you think one lethally aimed book was the extent of my retaliation, you’ve got another thing coming. This sassy sorceress always gets payback.

I finish shaping the loaf with a satisfied smile.Round one goes to me, vampire boy. My cottage, my rules.

***

The bread safely tucked away to bake, I settle into the worn velvet armchair by the fireplace and take up my knitting needles and yarn. If I can just lose myself in the steady click-clack of the needles, maybe I can tune out the vexing vampire currently invading my home and ignore the urge to watch his every move. I need this mate bond to be gone. This is ridiculous. I’m no teenage girl. I’m over three hundred years old for crying out loud!

Knitting has always soothed my nerves. Something about the repetitive motion lets my mind empty of all worries as I focus only on the soft yarn glidingthrough my fingers. With each new row, I can feel the tension easing from my shoulders.

I glance to where Draven lounges across the cottage, hoping he takes the hint that I’m now occupied. Wishful thinking. He peers at my knitting curiously, head cocked in that infuriatingly endearing way he has.

“And what might that be you’re working on so intently?” he asks.

I sigh, resigned to conversation. “A scarf. For myself, not you, so don’t go getting ideas.”

He puts a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Lady Thorn. I would never presume such familiarity when we’ve only just met.”

“Uh huh. Then be a good vampire and leave me in peace while I finish this, why don’t you.”

“Alas, I fear reading has taxed my spirits,” he laments dramatically. “Might I regale you instead?”

I resist the urge to chuck my wooden knitting needle at him. Barely. “Do as you wish. Just keep it down. I’m trying to focus.”

Ignoring my tone, Draven rises and peruses my overflowing bookshelf, head tilted as he scans the cracked leather spines. I tense, wondering if he cansense the power that thrums from some of those ancient tomes, but he merely selects a book of Tretteran poems, flipping idly through the pages.

I exhale, returning my attention to the scarf as I finish another row. The fire crackles low in the hearth, spreading comforting warmth across my cheeks. My muscles finally start to loosen their tension knots. Maybe Draven will actually stay silent for once.

No such luck.

“Ah, this one,” he murmurs. Clearing his throat, he begins to recite in his rich, velvety voice:

“On the dawn wind’s breath, the old magicks rise,

Two souls entwined by fate’s design.

The blood moon reveals that which hides inside,

Awakening the beast you caged within…”

My knitting needles freeze mid-click. Blood drains from my face. It cannot be chance that led him to read those ominous words aloud.

I force a shuddering breath, schooling my features before facing him. “You might want to be more careful what you wake here with incantations,” I say as lightly as possible.

Inside, my heart hammers. Does he know? Suspect what we are? I’ve made sure not to touch him again,and I’ve kept my distance. This bread has to finish cooking soon!

Draven lifts one brow. “Come now. It’s merely verse. What harm ever came from poetry?”

“Words hold power, vampire,” I reply sharply. “Not all strings in this cottage are safe to pull.”

His grin only widens at my warning. “You almost sound as if you have something to hide.” He taps his chin in exaggerated thought. “Now whatever could that be, I wonder?”

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