Page 6

VAN

A fter a night of vivid, erotic dreams about Celeste, I woke in a cold sweat. My jaguar stirred as well, rumbling mate.

I felt his longing, shared his agony to be near her.

The problem was I didn’t know what the hell to do about it.

I took the stairs up two at a time to the spa. Fortunately, Maribelle was at the reception desk, so I didn’t have to wait.

She gave me a knowing smile. “Funny how I see you now more than ever.”

“Maribelle,” I greeted her with a small nod. “It hasn’t faded.”

She lowered her head. “What hasn’t?”

“The hex.” I huffed out and threw both hands palms up. “I still— feel things for the woman.”

Her smile turned every more sly as it widened. “Can’t help you there, rockstar.” She stood and motioned downward with her hand in front of my body. “Yup. Nothing left of my magic. It’s all you.”

I grunted and tapped my fingers along the side of my thigh. “It has to be connected,” I uttered in disbelief. “What are you saying? That I met my mate on the same night you cast a curse on me?”

She snorted. “Stop being so dramatic, Van. It was a little magical mischief. Surely you can handle a little prank.”

“A little prank?” I repeated with wide eyes and placed my hand on my heart. “I’m all wrapped up in confusing knots thinking about her. How am I supposed to deal with this?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not a shifter.” A woman stepped into the spa and Maribelle turned her attention to her, all but dismissing my epic predicament.

Maribelle’s words echoed inside me during band practice that afternoon. It wasn’t like me to miss a cue or forget lyrics, but I was performing like an anxious amateur hampered by stage fright.

After I’d messed up once again, Damien grunted. “What’s gotten into you, Van? Did you add too much hairspray in that ’80s hairband mane?”

I eyed the bloodsucker from a new perspective. If he was up, Celeste might be as well. What was she doing? Never in a million years would I expect to have it this bad for anyone, let alone a vampire with their nocturnal ways and need for blood, but now she dominated my thoughts.

“Just an off day,” I muttered, shaking my shoulders as if it could dislodge this growing compulsion to be near Celeste. “But thanks for caring, Nosferatu.”

Damien spun his hand in front of his guitar with a flourish before he flipped me off.

“Touchy.” I grinned. “Must be low blood sugar.”

I grabbed the mic and tried to focus. Would she show up tonight as she’d said? If so, I had to get my act together. The last thing I wanted to do was sing off-key to the woman who’d haunted my dreams and almost every moment since I’d woken.

When I missed another cue, Caleb snorted and dropped his drumsticks. “Maybe you need to run that shit off.”

“Yeah, good idea.” I could run into the forest and shake off this sudden obsession with a vampire.

I’d been with some in the past, but never so consumed by one.

Since we were sailing, I’d have to wait until we docked at a private island that the ship owned.

It had plenty of space for supernaturals to run and hunt.

“Let’s take fifteen,” I suggested. At least I could head outdoors to get some fresh air to clear my head.

The others mumbled in agreement, and I strode out of the Nocturnal Lounge.

The sun had already set. Where was Celeste?

Did she stay in that exclusive private area with other wealthy passengers?

That was one of the things that separated us—her fortune—not to mention the vast differences between our species and our century-plus age gap.

I rushed up the stairs to the pool deck.

The balmy scent of the sea greeted me as the stars twinkled overhead.

Several passengers took advantage of the dragon pool and hot tubs, even though it was cooler after sundown.

Shifters like me typically ran hot and the cool water would feel refreshing.

What about vamps? Did they prefer the hot tubs to warm their bodies?

I could heat Celeste up in my arms. In my bed…

Jeez, there I went again thinking about her. What could I do to get her out of my head?

Later that night, when we began our set, I searched for her in the lounge. No sign of her. Had she changed her mind?

Worse, what if she’d decided to take another chance with her ex, that damn vampire who’d cheated on her? Every muscle in my body tensed.

As I began to sing the Zombies song, “She’s Not There,” the lyrics hit, and I poured myself into the performance.

I could sense my bandmates exhaling with relief as if to say finally.

A few songs later, when we moved on to Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline,” I sensed Celeste walk into the room.

There she was, standing in the entrance of the lounge. She practically glowed for me just standing there, even though her midnight hair and dress were as dark as the shadows.

The crowd joined in, enthusiastically singing the chorus and adding, “So good, so good, so good,” like enthusiastic Red Sox fans.

Celeste caught my eye, and a small smile spread across her face. She lifted her hand and blew me a kiss.

My heart fluttered, elated. My jaguar purred in contentment.

Then it all crashed to the ground as I realized why she’d done so. It was all an act.