Page 54 of Your Coffin or Mine
Before attempting to encase me in iron, Angelique had tried poisoning me with laced blood wine. Luckily, she wasn’t aware of how keen my sense of smell is.
He eyes me curiously. “You really like her then. I have to admit I get the appeal—Aubrey is a beautiful woman—but Vlad... this is absurd.”
I pause to glare at him. “I am not an idiot.”
Doyle grins, a malicious glint in his eye. “You’re lucky I saw fit to consult Frank on this issue before guests even arrived. Have you heard of an EpiPen?”
“A pen what?” I ask. He pulls his hand from his pocket and uncurls it in front of my face. I grimace. “How does it work?”
He turns it in his hand and makes a stabbing motion. “I stab you with this in your thigh and it stops the allergic reaction.Frank says it’s perfectly safe—humans use them all the time. But this one he altered to suit your genetic makeup.”
“You want me to thank you for finding a contraption to stab me with?”
“Well, when you put it like that . . .”
He smirks, and I wish I could rationalize punching him in the mouth. However, I may honestly need it.
“But actually, yes,” he continues. “It’s to save your life, so it’s allowed.”
Avoiding death would be preferable, but I’m unsure how much contact with garlic I can withstand. Vampires’ natural immunity to garlic increases the older they get, but I haven’t been near any in more than two centuries.
I sigh heavily as he smiles in obvious excitement. “Fine. Just make sure she doesn’t notice.”
“I’ll be gentle,” Doyle says, arching his eyebrows suggestively.
In an instant, my hand is wrapped around his throat, hoisting him into the air. “For fuck’s sake, I will rip your?—”
“Hey! Why are you guys hiding in the pantry closet?”
I remove my hand and watch dispassionately as Doyle falls to the floor moments before Aubrey flings the door open, her expression curious.
Doyle rights himself and turns toward her with a strange grin on his face. “Discussing the theme colors for the grand opening. I’m thinking fuchsia and bright purple.”
The words “over my dead body” climb up my throat, but I somehow swallow them and stare daggers at him, sincerely contemplating throwing him in the moat.
She laces our fingers together and smiles. “I think purple and pink might be a bit much, but I like where your head’s at. We should see if there are any local catering companies. Never know.”
She bites her bottom lip and I become instantly arrested by the soft swirls of blue in her eyes. I want to touch my lips to hers and taste the sweet velvet of her mouth.
Doyle clears his throat behind us, breaking the moment. I clench my teeth and use my power, sending his clipboard up to slap him squarely in his face.
“Ouch,” he grits out, his expression twisted in annoyance.
Aubrey tenses in my arms, then peers to look at him. “Are you alright?”
Doyle’s face morphs and suddenly he’s a pathetic beggar, laying it on thick as Aubrey shows her concern. “Yeah, just a bit of a headache.”
She leaves my side and heads toward the closet door. “Let’s get you something to eat and some Tylenol, yeah? Lunch is ready.”
I wave dismissively. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s just dramatic.”
Doyle breathes in deeply. “I think that would be nice. Don’t start without me—I have to grab something from my room.”
I lift my nose into the air, breathing cautiously once he leaves, and find it truly does smell delicious. Instead of overpowering garlic, there’s a scent of salted pork and... cheese?
My mouth pulls into a grim line and her smile drops, her brows knitting in concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Just looking forward to your culinary delights.”
