Page 13 of Consume Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #4)

Kendall

B y morning, the heat of Noctan’s kiss still lingers on my lips.

It’s ridiculous—unacceptable, even—that I keep catching myself reliving his goodbye like some love-struck teenager who’s never been kissed before.

I have been kissed before. Plenty of times.

None of them ever distracted me like this.

And then there’s that near-orgasm I experienced on his couch.

Ugh. The dagger—currently rattling around in the cabinet where I locked it this morning after it reappeared in my kitchen—is officially a cock-block.

When I make it downstairs, Natalia’s shop is warm and bright, the smell of cinnamon, dried lavender, and old books wrapping around me as I enter. Golden light slants through the front windows, dust motes drifting lazily in the air. On any other day, I’d find the peace and quiet comforting.

Today, it just makes the dagger’s whispers inside my head seem louder.

Visions kept me awake most of the night.

Horrific images of death and blood and destruction.

My head is already aching from the onslaught.

The only upside is that the daggers’ death visions drowned out any of my own, including reliving any images of the white-starred wolf ripping out my throat.

“Morning,” Natalia calls.

She stands near the window, stacking jars of dried rosemary and sage.

“Morning,” I say, taking up my place at the new inventory I’m supposed to be cataloguing.

I feel rather than see Natalia glance over her shoulder at me.

“So,” she says, her tone light but edged with interest, “how was the party last night?”

“Fine,” I say, keeping my gaze on the ledger in front of me.

She repeats the word, drawing it out. “Fine? That’s all you’re going to give me?”

I glance back at her and shrug. “That’s all there is to give.”

“And the daggers—the bargain you made? Are you free of them at last?”

“Yes and no,” I say carefully.

Her eyes narrow. “You’re calling your sister.”

“Natalia, no.”

“You promised.”

“Actually, you said if I walked out of that house with the daggers in my possession, I’d call Tori. But I didn’t. I walked out without either of them.”

She stares at me, waiting.

I sigh. “Fine. I’m not exactly free of them, but I just need a little more time. ”

“Kendall—”

“One of the daggers is gone,” I blurt.

She stares at me, and in true witch fashion, she doesn’t look happy about the news. “Gone, how?”

“Destroyed. Someone at the party knew of the daggers and managed to destroy one before I stopped him.”

“You stopped him?”

“Their magic has infiltrated parts of me I can’t—” I shake my head, frustrated, desperate. “I don’t know if I’ll survive both of them being gone.”

Natalia sighs. “All right. What’s your plan?”

“We’re doing some research to see if we can find a way to break the connection. So we can get rid of the second one.”

The dagger vibrates in its holster.

Fuck you, I tell it.

“Who is ‘we’ exactly?”

“A friend.”

“The friend who destroyed the first dagger.”

“Yes.”

“Someone I should know about?”

“They possess a talent I have a need for.” I shrug like that’s all there is to it. “Nothing more.”

Her brow arches like she knows that’s a lie, but she lets it drop and goes back to organizing jars. Natalia’s not exactly known for her friendliness, which is exactly why I love her—when I don’t want to talk, she won’t push. Not right away, anyway.

The morning drifts by in a quiet rhythm.

Customers come and go, the bell over the door chiming every so often.

Some want sachets of herbs to tuck under pillows for more pleasant dreams; others ask for talismans to ward off bad luck.

The more serious inquiries Natalia takes alone in the back room.

It’s not like I don’t know she’s negotiating for everything but their firstborn in exchange.

But I don’t exactly want to help her with those kinds of deals either.

Out front, I smile, take payment, and keep my answers short.

But the dagger… the dagger never shuts up.

Its whispers curl around my ribs, sharp and insistent. The fae male is dangerous. He’ll betray you. One strike, and you’re free from all of this.

I ignore it.

The more I ignore it, the more unrelenting it becomes, the words slipping into my thoughts like claws. You’re weak. You’ll regret this.

By the time the sun has drifted past the highest pane of the shop windows, I’m gritting my teeth.

Natalia notices my tension—she’s too perceptive not to—but she says nothing.

I catch her glancing at my hip once, at the single dagger in its holster, the other empty.

I note a flicker of something in her eyes, but she doesn’t comment on the missing twin.

“I’m going to the back room for a bit to work on something for a client,” she says a few minutes later.

“I’ll hold down the fort,” I tell her a little too brightly.

She frowns and walks off.

The dagger is restless now. Agitated.

And then, without warning, it moves.

I’m behind the counter, shelving vials of wolfsbane, when it leaps—actually leaps —out of its holster. The steel flashes in the light as it spins once in the air and lands point-down on an open page of a thick, leather-bound tome. Natalia’s grimoire.

Shit.

I live under strict instructions to never touch that thing.

The impact sends a tremor through the book, and a puff of dark smoke rises from the page. The scent hits me instantly—burnt magic, bitter and metallic. Inside my head, the dagger’s hissing goes abruptly silent.

Natalia appears from the back. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Felt like a ripple of magic.”

“It was nothing,” I say quickly.

After a moment, she disappears again. The moment she’s gone, I lunge forward and yank the blade free from the book. Then I jam it back into the holster before the smoke even has time to clear.

“What the hell was that?” I demand under my breath.

No answer.

I turn away from the grimoire and exhale, trying to shake off the weirdly ominous feeling.

A moment later, the bell above the shop door rings, the sound sharp in the thick air. I turn—and my pulse skips.

Noctan stands framed in the doorway, a darkly handsome silhouette against the bright street beyond.

The Autumn sunlight catches in his hair, turning the strands near his temple lighter shades of brown.

His coat hangs open, the collar of his shirt catching on the breeze that sneaks in with him.

Even here, in this grounded, ordinary place, he manages to look like something carved from a fantasy.

Natalia emerges, and I tense.

Her gaze sweeps over him, her lips curving with a smile I’ve only seen her use when she’s holding a particularly good secret. “Well, well, well,” she says, voice dripping with amusement, “If it isn’t the Amarok? So, this is what happened last night.”

My head snaps toward her, my cheeks heating. “What are you talking about?”

But she’s already looking at him again, leaning one hip against the counter. “Hello, Noctan Fenhaven. Always a pleasure.”

My gaze jerks between them. “You two know each other?”

Noctan’s mouth curves faintly, though it’s not exactly a smile. “Natalia.” His voice isn’t friendly exactly, but it’s familiar. “It has been a while.”

She tilts her head, studying him like she’s flipping through the pages of a memory only she gets to see. “A couple of centuries, at least. You look… the same.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “So do you. Still warding the place like a paranoid old fox.”

“Paranoia has kept me alive longer than most,” she says lightly, though her eyes glitter.

I glance between them, trying to piece this together. “I’m sorry— a couple of centuries ? You two have known each other for that long?”

Finally, Natalia says, “Let’s just say this isn’t the only realm that has use for talents like mine. In fact, Noctan was one of my first customers.”

He steps inside fully, the door shutting behind him with a soft click, and something about his presence changes the air in here—thicker, warmer. My grip tightens around the edge of the counter.

Natalia’s smile is sly. “So, what brings you back to my little corner of the world?”

His eyes flick to mine briefly before returning to hers. “Vaelora invited me to her gathering last night.”

“And here I thought you didn’t like parties,” she says, a hint of a dare in her voice.

“I don’t,” he says flatly. “But sometimes… certain invitations can’t be ignored.”

I feel heat creep up my neck. I know exactly which invitation he means, and from the way Natalia’s gaze slides back to me, so does she.

“So,” she says casually, “you two met at Vaelora’s.”

“Yes,” I answer a little too quickly.

“Yes,” he says at the same time, but with far more composure, like he didn’t attend that party with every intention of killing me before he left it. Or that he didn’t almost make me come on his couch last night instead.

Natalia’s brow arches. She looks at me pointedly. “And now he’s in my shop. Again.”

Noctan leans one hand on the counter, his attention fixed on her. “If you wanted me gone, your wards would have stopped me at the door last night.”

“That they would,” she says, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “I suppose that means you’re here on good terms… for now. ”

I clear my throat, needing to break whatever silent conversation they’re having. “Are either of you going to explain, or do I just get to stand here, feeling like the third wheel?”

Noctan glances at me, his gaze steady, unreadable. “Another time.”

Natalia just smirks. “I’ll explain when you do,” she says with way too much smugness.

“Fine,” I say, irritated enough to play her game. “Noctan’s the white-starred wolf who kills me.”

Natalia blinks. Her amusement fades. Clearly, she wasn’t expecting that for an answer. She looks back and forth between us.

“Is this true?” she asks him sharply.

“Of course not,” he says without missing a beat. “My wolf would never harm his mate.”