Page 7 of Bewitched by the Fruit Bat King (The Bewitching Hour #3)

Date…s?

Willow

T here are certain universal truths about dating.

One: showing up to a five-star restaurant in a Prius that's more dent than car is never a power move.

Two: agreeing to dinner with a vampire is questionable life choices at best. And three: said vampire waiting outside of fancy restaurant in a suit that probably cost more than a trip to the dentist and a root canal should not be allowed to look that good.

I gripped my steering wheel, watching him through my windshield. He stood under the elegant portico like he owned it (and honestly, given what I'd learned about Kane Industries, he might), managing to make checking his watch look like a GQ photoshoot.

"You can do this," I muttered to myself, checking my lipstick in the rearview mirror one last time. "It's just dinner. With the vampire you accidentally summoned. And then bit. And then magically yeeted into his board meeting. Totally normal Tuesday."

At least I'd won the argument about transportation.

When his assistant had called to arrange pickup, I'd firmly declined.

Because contrary to what my recent actions might suggest, I did have some survival instincts.

Getting into a strange man's car was literally the first thing they warn against in "So You're Now Dating: A Beginner's Guide to Not Dying. "

Though technically, I'd done more damage to him than he had to me. So far.

Something strange stirred to life as I stepped out of my car, a warm, insistent tug that made my magic buzz beneath my skin.

Each click of my heels against the pavement drew the sensation tighter, like an invisible thread pulling me forward.

The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water.

I knew what this was. Every witch grew up hearing stories about fated mate bonds, about that unmistakable pull that meant the universe had decided your destiny.

This couldn't be happening. After all, I had met him after casting a spell to call my own fated mate.

But no! Not with him. Not with a vampire who could crush my entire life with one phone call.

I grabbed my borrowed clutch like a shield, the little black dress Luna had promised would "make him forget about the whole unconscious-at-work thing" suddenly feeling like too much and not enough all at once.

The bond hummed louder with each step, a symphony of 'meant to be' that made me want to run screaming back to my Prius.

Because fated mates weren't just some romantic fairy tale, they were permanent, unbreakable, and absolutely terrifying when the mate in question was quite possibly the most powerful vampire in the country.

I wasn't sure any dress could make him forget about the whole unconscious-at-work thing, but right now I was more worried about forgetting how to breathe as the bond sang through my veins.

Kane turned as I approached, and oh, that wasn't fair at all.

The suit was even better up close, all perfect tailoring and subtle pinstripes that somehow made him look both sophisticated and dangerous.

His dark hair had that artfully tousled look that probably took an hour to achieve, and when his eyes met mine, the bond thrummed like a plucked guitar string.

"You're here." He sounded almost surprised, like he'd expected me to bail. Which, okay, I had considered it. Several times. But I had a plan, and running away wasn't part of it.

"I did promise," I said, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile. "And I figured I owed you at least one conscious dinner after, um..." I gestured vaguely at his neck, where I could still see the faintest mark from my bite.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Ah yes, your rather unconventional approach to vampire hunting."

"That wasn't—I didn't mean to—" I spluttered, then caught the glint of amusement in his eyes. "Are you teasing me?"

"Would I dare?" He offered his arm with old-world grace. "Shall we?"

I hesitated only a moment before taking it. Through the silk of his jacket, I could feel the cool strength of his arm, and the bond purred like a satisfied cat.

The ma?tre d' practically tripped over himself getting to us, all but bowing as he led us to what was clearly the best table in the house. I tried not to roll my eyes at the display. Sure, Kane was probably their most important customer, but the groveling felt excessive.

"Your usual table, Mr. Drake," the man simpered, pulling out my chair. Kane's expression remained neutral, but something about the way he simply expected this level of deference made my inner rebel twitch.

"The '82 Bordeaux," Kane said without even glancing at the wine list. The ma?tre d' scurried away like his pants were on fire.

"Do I get a say in the wine?" I asked, unable to help myself.

His eyes met mine across the pristine white tablecloth. "Not a fan of Bordeaux?"

"Not a fan of assumptions." I opened my menu, then nearly choked on my own spit at the prices. Holy moonflowers, was everything here made of gold?

"I assure you, my assumptions are usually correct." There was that hint of arrogance again, wrapped in smooth charm like bitter medicine in honey. "For instance, I assumed you'd try to drive yourself tonight."

"Because getting murdered in a strange vampire's car isn't on my bucket list?"

"Because you're stubborn." He said it like it amused him, which only made me more stubborn.

A nervous waiter appeared at Kane's elbow. "Sir, would you like to hear tonight's specials?"

Kane waved him off without looking up from his menu. "We'll start with the foie gras and the seafood tower. A cheese and fruit platter too please."

"I'm vegetarian," I blurted, even though I wasn't. The waiter froze mid-note, looking terrified.

Kane's eyes narrowed slightly. "No, you're not. I can smell the chicken you had for lunch."

"That's creepy."

"That's vampire biology." But he turned to the waiter. "What would you prefer, Willow?"

The use of my name sent the bond humming again. I ordered the first thing I saw that didn't require a mortgage to afford, some kind of mushroom pasta that the waiter assured me was excellent while shooting nervous glances at Kane.

"You're antagonizing me deliberately," Kane said once we were alone again. He didn't sound angry, more... intrigued.

"You're being deliberately high-handed." I sipped my water. "Does everyone always just do whatever you want?"

"Yes." His frank answer caught me off guard. "That's generally what happens when you're both a CEO and a vampire king."

Shit, vampire king?! Where had that been when I was digging up everything I could find about him on the internet?"Must be exhausting, being so important."

"Must be exhausting, fighting everything on principle."

The wine arrived before I could retort, presented with such ceremony you'd think it was liquid gold.

Kane sampled it with the expertise of someone who'd had centuries to develop his palette, then nodded his approval.

I took a sip and okay, fine, it was incredible. But I wasn't going to tell him that.

"So," he said, watching me over the rim of his glass, "are we going to discuss why you really agreed to dinner?"

"Because I felt bad about the whole board meeting thing?"

"Try again."

The bond tightened between us, and I realized with growing horror that he could probably feel my emotions as clearly as I was starting to feel his – satisfaction, amusement, and underneath it all, a possessive interest that made my pulse jump.

"I..." The truth stuck in my throat. How do you tell someone that you accidentally summoned them while trying to find your fated mate, only to discover they might actually BE your fated mate, but you're planning to go on another date tomorrow anyway?

"I thought we should clear the air. Professionally speaking. "

His smile showed just a hint of fang. "Professionally speaking?"

The appetizers arrived in a parade of plates. I had to admit, watching Kane interact with the staff was... interesting. He wasn't exactly rude, but there was an underlying expectation of perfection that made everyone around him move like they were walking on eggshells.

"You know," I said, spearing a mushroom, "they'd probably still give you excellent service without the whole fear factor."

"Fear ensures efficiency."

"Respect ensures loyalty."

He tilted his head, studying me with those ancient eyes. "You say that like someone who's never had to manage centuries of supernatural politics."

"And you say that like someone who's forgotten what it's like to be on the other side of the power dynamic." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Instead of being offended, he laughed. The sound was surprisingly genuine, and the bond hummed with actual warmth. "You really don't have any self-preservation instincts, do you?"

"I drove myself here, didn't I?"

"Point taken." He swirled his wine glass, and I tried not to notice how elegant his hands were. "Though after our previous encounters, I'm surprised you agreed to dinner at all."

"Well, after I assaulted you twice in two days, I figured I owed you an actual conversation." I paused. "Though you did manhandle my orchids."

"I was merely looking at them."

"With your hands."

"Ah yes, the fierce little florist who cares more about her flowers than her own safety." His tone was dry but there was something like respect in his eyes. "Do you magically kick all of your potential customers out, or am I special?"

"Only the ones who have no intention of buying anything."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Most people don't scold vampire kings."

"Most people don't have to watch vampire kings traumatize their prize-winning orchids."

Our entrees arrived, providing a welcome break from the growing tension. I focused on my pasta, very aware of his presence across the table. The bond seemed determined to remind me of every small movement he made.