Page 56 of The Royal Street Witch
With a swoon, I graze my cheek and wink at him, for the first time in so long, excited about what my future could bring, despite the fact that it’s against everything I should be doing.
Walking back to the shop, I think of my mother, how I miss her. How I wish I could share this with her. I’m going to California and I can’t tell anyone. There’s a sweeping loneliness that goes with living a secret life, and it encompasses me all at once. She was my best friend and worst enemy once upon a time, but now she’s like a star, always there but so very distant. We grew up together, sneaking ice cream for dinner when my grandmother was working downstairs in the shop, watchingDangerous Beautyover and over every time her heart got broken. And it was broken often.
Despite the fact that she’s let me down time and time again, I still yearn for her approval, for her to tell me it will all be okay. And with as many mistakes as she has made, I wonder if she would understand what I’ve done. But she’s wild and unpredictable and I can’t tell her, because I wasn’t supposed to form feelings for a vampire. A business transaction is one thing, but an affair with an enemy is something else. To her, vampires are the lowest form of scum, the most vile of creatures. She wouldn’t understand. And a cold laugh escapes my mouth at the irony that the heartless witch has outdone the wild witch, for the first time ever.
Are you coming over tonight?I text, and I’m feeling a little desperate here.I need a taste…
Come to Nightwalkers and get one.
You know I can’t do that.
Nicola is in Savannah for a couple of days. It’s just me and Cassius here.
My eyes reach the ceiling, knowing it’s not a good idea. But I want to see him. I—goddammit, I miss him. It’s been two days since he crept in my bed, and lately, every minute apart feels like an hour, every hour a day.
Since Amerie has gone to Japan, he’s had to work nightly, and I wouldn’t dare go to Nightwalkers when Nicola is there.
Mercury meows in my face as I push him away, deliberating. Oksana will be there, but she won’t know why I’m coming; it could be business for all she knows. If it’s just Cassius and Bastian it must not be busy, but there has to be at least one other bartender. And that’s how your head talks your heart out of doing what it wants—logic.
I’ve always used logic in most of my decisions until Bastian came along with a secret deal that changed both of us. My stomach flurries from how the light gleamed on his face at Café Du Monde, how his smile reached his gratuitous eyes. And there’s my heart making the decision and I pull on my boots and finger my hair into a quick side braid.
Oksana looks surprised when she sees me, her mouth forming an O when our eyes meet.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” she purrs when I enter.
“Some quick business,” I prattle, my face smooth as stone so as not to give away anything. She walks to the back, opens the door, and I glide past her without another word, a sinking feeling in my stomach. She’s going to tell Nicola I stopped by, I’m certain of it, yet it doesn’t turn me around, it doesn’t stop me from my lover calling for me. I’m knee-deep in some shit that I don’t want to get out of.
NIGHTWALKERS IS BUSIER THAN Iexpect, and I search the room for Bastian but instead lock eyes with Cassius. He does not have a surprised look on his face, just a disapproving one. A woman I’ve never seen before is behind the makeshift bar lighting absinthe on fire.
There’s a break in the crowd and I see him. Lounging in a red velvet chaise, adorned in a black three-piece suit, his legs casually crossed over his knee at the ankle. He laughs with an older woman as she sips on her martini, and then his face sobers as she leans over to whisper in his ear. That’s when our eyes meet, as a lady undoubtedly whispers sweet nothings into the ear of a dapper vampire. His lips curl—that dangerous smile writhed its way into my cold witch heart. How did I let this happen?
I hope the electricity can only be seen and felt between us, because it’s so vivid to me, so palpable, this pull in my gut for him. My eyebrows rise and then he’s whispering to the woman as he rises, buttoning his suit jacket, eyes never leaving mine until he’s in front of me and my breath is stolen from me.
“I thought you wouldn’t show,” he says and I side-eye him.
“I shouldn’t have. Oksana suspects something, and Cassius...”
“No,” he says, straightening his tie, the blood red shirt underneath his vest making him look gothically handsome. He slips his hands in his pockets and I pull mine behind my back, the urge to touch him so strong I need to restrain myself.
“Yes. They both gave me stare-downs when they saw me.”
“That’s just their faces,” he laughs, the lines around his eyes smiling. “Follow me.” And he turns on his foot, past the bartending, past a tarot reading, over to the terrace door. He flips the sign fromTen Patrons At A TimetoTerrace Closed.
“Ladies, the terrace will be temporarily closed for a few minutes,” he says as he takes a step through the door. Two women, both in long maxi skirts, stand from the patio furniture, and walk inside as I step out.
“You’re getting sloppy,” I say as he walks to the iron terrace gates. I follow him, his gaze on Bourbon Street below us. How many times have I looked up to this terrace? With unknowing humans being a meal for vampires? How many times had I met eyes with random vampires looking down at me, window shopping for their next victim? But never have I ever actually been on the terrace, where the music blares and a flashing police light casts Bastian’s face in blue. I place my hand on the wrought iron close to his, and his pinky runs along mine. I look into his eyes, and there’s a longing there and I’m overwhelmed that it’s for me.
“It shouldn’t have to be this way. Us, hiding like this.”
“It’s always been this way, vampires and witches hating each other. And those rare occasions when they’ve intermingled and things ended more fucked up and disgusting than before. We can’t change it,” I say with a shake of my head.
“Yes, we can. We can be the change.” His pinky hooks with mine as we both look across the street.
“Your head’s in the clouds, Bastian.” I don’t want to hurt him, but I have to stay grounded. I can’t let this get out of control, although everything in my body is telling me it’s already happening. Because these feelings, these feelings are ripping me apart and I just want to crush my lips against his.
“The air is better in the clouds,” he whispers, his green eyes squinting as he looks through the window of the speakeasy. “I know you feel the same way about me as I do about you. I know you love me.”
My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. Saying these words out in the open is so dangerous, but him telling me that he loves me makes it feel like there’s a cinderblock on my chest. Like I’m being burned alive.
