Page 7 of Toadstools and Vampire Kisses

My eyes widen, my imagination as to her intent running wild. I’m ready to demand that she throw all warnings to the wind, that I care not a bit for them and am eager for whatever she desires, when I hear a loud crack that jolts my attention away from Fran to a fuming violet-eyed witch storming away. My cousin’s face darkens as he stares after her, and Fran sighs.

“Yes, that is what I came over here to warn you about. I know you guys promised not to do whatever weird shit the vampires in the city are doing, but if you think that you’ll find an easy lay, or nibble, among the Durmont witches, you are in for a rude surprise. Our line is highly resistant to any form of suggestion, and my cousin Paige has a particular distaste for playboys. So you might want to tell your coven to stay clear of her and take care who they approach.”

I immediately feel foolish for the presumptuous direction of my thoughts. Of course she wasn’t flirting with me. I hardly understand what flirting looks like, much less how to successfully accomplish it. I feel heat rise into my cheekbones, no doubt leaving light trails of color noticeable to the observant.

“Yes, of course. And I believe Jack has just discovered this for himself,” I observe stiffly as I watch my cousin stalk over to the refreshment table.

Fran nods, her expression bearing a sort of impish glee as she too watches him storm off. I have little doubt that she’d been happy to leave him to whatever well-deserved fate he earned, and I cannot say that I blame her given my cousin’s behavior toward her the night before. I fully expect her to wander off now that her warning has been imparted, but I am surprised again when she turns to me with a quizzical smile, a gleam brightening her brown eyes.

“I am curious how you’re all wandering around like this. Why aren’t you in your coffin?”

Coffin?My lips part to dispel the heinous misinformation spread about my kind, but instead a deep laugh rolls out of me.Coffin, indeed!

ChapterSix

FRAN

He’s laughing at me. My own mouth curves with amusement as I realize just how absurd that must sound. I sound like the people who’ve asked me numerous times over the years if I kept a pointy hat or fly around on a broomstick.

“No coffin, I take it? I feel like my entire childhood was a lie,” I snicker.

The corner of his mouth tilts in a crooked smile, revealing dimples and the tips of a pair of double fangs that I glimpsed while he was laughing. With his somber features, the effect is surprisingly adorable. It took a lot of effort to keep myself from staring at his fangs. They were smaller than those I’ve seen on vampires before, though no less threatening. The fact that they were in a doublet was also fascinating and somehow softened the overall appearance for me. I would be an idiot to not keep in mind that he was clearly a predator, of course, but there was something endearing about it that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“Most of what humans believe they know of our kind is a mixture of confused and just wrong.”

I purse my lips in disappointment. “I suppose that scratches off shapeshifting.”

“Not entirely,” he replies with a barely audible chuckle. “Shall we walk and enjoy the sight of the preparations as I explain?” he asks as he gestures ahead of us.

I nod and loop my arm around his, noting the slight jump of his muscles beneath my hand as if he were surprised. I bite my lip, now feeling a little uncertain myself. Given his manner of dressing and speaking, I assumed that this was just how things were done but now I wonder if I have erred. I’m about to withdraw and apologize when he suddenly adjusts my hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm as we begin to walk around the ballroom.

If that weren’t awkward enough, I can’t help but notice how incredibly warm he is. I had suspected that it was my imagination when he caught me yesterday, but no, he’s definitely warmer than anyone I’ve ever met.

“You are warmer than I would have suspected,” I murmur.

He gives me a startled look. “What temperature would you assume?”

I flush since we already ruled out Reynard being among the walking dead. “Cold like a corpse, I suppose.”

“Ah, yes, humanity’s obsession with likening my species with the dead,” he remarks dryly, and I feel like a bigger idiot. But a tiny smile curls one corner of his mouth as he leans forward to whisper conspiringly. “If you want to know a secret, many vampires dub humans as half-lives because you are so cool to us that you feel as if you are merely a step from the grave.”

I jerk back to meet his eyes, aghast and very self-conscious. I try to pull my hand from his arm, but he tightens to grip and frowns down at me.

“That came out wrong. I do not dislike your touch.”

“Faint praise,” I mutter.

A distinctly uncomfortably look crosses his face and he quickly shakes his head. “No. I enjoy it very much. Most nonhumans run hotter, primarily because we have a higher energetic output. It can be pleasant to touch another being who is cooler, and I find your touch most pleasurable.”

I give him an arch look as I work to comprehend exactly what he is telling me and not just assume he is trying to be creepy, but he flushes in embarrassment, the faint hue staining his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Drawing in a breath, I take pity on him. Really, it can’t be much different than me enjoying his heat as much as I hate the idea that touching me is akin to touching someone who is nearly dead.

Perhaps he runs hot enough that he finds my cooler temperature soothing?

“I hope my temperature is not too off-putting,” he says, breaking into my thoughts, and I realize that he is more anxious about this than I am.

I shake my head. “No. It’s rather nice holding your arm. Kind of like hugging a hot water thermos.”

“You can hold me to you any time you feel in need,” he replies so sincerely that I nearly giggle because he doesn’t realize what a double entendre he just committed.

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