Page 4 of Hex Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #7)

Max

M ax’s foot hurt .

And while he might be occasionally foolish, he wasn’t stupid.

If the witch next to him sensed weakness in any capacity, she’d go for his throat.

So, he pretended that Tamsin’s attempt to grind his toes into bone powder was not phasing him in the slightest. Instead, he deliberately leaned in and sniffed, breathing the orchid and amber scent of her deep into his body.

He could feel her irritation at him rising as she stomped down harder in response.

He gave her a slow, shit-eating grin, causing her pale-blue wolf-eyes to flash at him.

He didn’t know why, but there was a part of him that simply delighted in pissing Tamsin off. She was always so put together, so organized, so...prepared for the future. But underneath—underneath she was a seething mess of emotions and passion, and he was annoyed that no one else seemed to see it.

Actually, no. If he was being honest, that didn’t annoy him.

He might have even liked the fact that no one else had noticed her in that way. That no one else could see her the way he did.

No, it was that she pretended to be perfectly fine when she was alone with him.

All that contained and constricted passion held on a leash so tightly she was choking herself to death—even if she didn’t realize it.

And he thoroughly enjoyed reaching that uncontrolled core of her, getting her to react when no one else could.

It was the little things in life that sparked joy, after all.

Plus, he didn’t get a chance to just be playful nowadays.

Not with his shared role as second-in-command after Sabrina and Kieran.

Before the House had come to life, he’d hidden in his basement laboratory and worked on keeping the clan safe.

He’d trained assassins and warriors—like the House of Gold and Garnet’s Nox and Bane—and developed chemical weapons and defenses.

He’d had no desire to play the dignitary and mediator that he now was expected to.

Tamsin lifted her heel off his foot with a small grunt, seemingly giving up since she didn’t get the response she’d hoped for.

He let out a slow breath and wiggled his toes to see if they were still attached.

Attached.

Bruised and sore.

But, hey, at least they weren’t bonemeal.

Discretely, he partially-shifted his foot into its phantom form then back again, so that the injury could be healed as soon as his flesh re-formed. There were some perks to being a true immortal.

He folded the translucent invitation in half and shoved it and the black envelope into his pants pocket with a sigh. An All Hallows’ Eve ball, and he had to attend it with Tamsin.

He felt like stomping his foot on Kieran’s.

It wasn’t fair.

The only woman he might have wanted in the whole damn castle, and she was his colleague.

His coworker. And while they’d been flooded with new House members, his position meant that he couldn’t just go out and find a date amongst the throng to get his mind off the infuriating witch standing next to him.

There was no such thing as a ‘personal’ relationship; not when you were part of the mechanism that kept a House running.

Not that I wannae date anyone.

Damn. That sounded trite, even in his own head.

Although, he wanted to do a hell of a lot more to Tamsin than date her.

He closed his eyes briefly, trying to shove that thought back where it came from.

There. Back where it belonged—for now. He opened his eyes and resettled the new glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Are you two done flirting?” Kieran asked, the hybrid’s mouth turned up in a smug grin.

“If you think that’s flirting, I feel sorry for Sabrina,” Tamsin muttered, voice cutting.

Max tried to swallow the laugh that threatened to escape.

“Come now, lass, give him some grace. He used to murder people with ‘ouchie-makers’. Flirting may nae be his strong point.” Max’s older brother, Douglas, still muttered about his experience in Kieran’s torture chamber—although, from what Max could gather, Kieran had barely even touched the phantom.

Kieran’s gaze darkened and he shook his head, throwing one hand up in the air in exasperation. “I didn’t kill people with the ‘ouchie-maker’. For fuck’s sake . What bullshit has your dad been spouting now?” The last question was directed at his mate.

Sabrina patted Kieran’s arm in a comforting manner. “Oh, no need to feel sorry for me. Kieran’s flirting is next level, actually.” Sabrina gave them both a bright grin, ignoring the hybrid’s gripe about her father.

Tamsin’s mouth opened—“’Ouchie-maker’?”

Max coughed behind his hand. “There is no need to take either conversation further.”

Tamsin turned to him. “How is this the first time I’ve heard of it?” Then she rubbed her head, eyes going briefly unfocused. “Well, maybe it isn’t. Is it?”

“No idea.” He shrugged.

He’d noticed that she could get muddled sometimes—but he knew better than to tell her he found it adorable. Or to try and help her sort it out. She got crotchety when confused, which when he thought about it, he couldn’t exactly blame her.

“Ignoring the slandering of my prowess as a torturer,” Kieran shot them both a dark look, “we’re ordering you both to go to the party and represent the House of Death and Diamond while you’re at it.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go.” Tamsin’s voice was strained.

Then she flicked her hair over her shoulder right into his face for a second time.

This time, however, he just enjoyed breathing in the scent of her once more, feeling the gossamer strands caressing his face as they fell.

After, he noticed that unlike before, this time a lock of hair landed on his shoulder and stayed there.

Unable to resist, Max picked it up, thoroughly inspecting it, enjoying the sensation of it sliding between his fingers, knowing it was going to irritate the hell out of her based on their earlier verbal tussle.

Especially as she’d already reacted more than she normally would in front of his niece and her mate.

Sabrina and Kieran’s gazes locked onto the two of them.

“What kind of conditioner do ye use?” Max asked, voice mild as a cup of warm tea, even though he felt anything but tepid.

Tamsin snatched her hair back. “Stop being a weirdo.”

“What? It’s just a question.” He smiled. He couldn’t help it; getting any reaction out of her was its own kind of reward.

“None of your business.” Her stare was telling him to back off, but he just stayed where he was, challenging her. Pushing her.

Max shrugged. “I’ll just check yer toiletries bag when we get to the Crossroads.”

She snorted. “You won’t be anywhere near my toiletries bag.”

He made a non-committal sound. “I can mist through walls; in case ye forgot?”

And end up on the other side, naked, but he wasn’t going to remind her of that fact.

Tamsin waved a hand at the noticeboard. “Are you the shampoo thief, then?”

He glanced in the direction she was indicating, the topic change causing his forehead to crease. “What?” He’d have to read the noticeboard later to work out what the hell the witch was on about.

“Oh yeah—I forgot to mention.” Kieran’s voice was suspiciously cheerful. “You’ll be sharing a room.”

Tamsin dropped her hand and stared at the vampire hybrid. Sabrina elbowed her mate in the ribs with a well-practiced jab. Max’s frown deepened. What were these two playing at?

Then his brain registered what Kieran had just said.

Sharing a room.

With Tamsin…

Great .

It was one thing to admire—and irritate—the prickly witch on a day-to-day basis. It was entirely another matter to share a sleeping space with her. “Sharing a room?” he blurted.

“Not happening.” Tamsin crossed her arms over her chest, the wee bells in her hair jingling with the sudden movement.

“Surely, there’s a spare room. Plus, isnae the new House embassy almost finished?” Max asked.

“No, you’re booked into a hotel. And the accommodations in the Crossroads are booked out this close to the party.

The decent places, anyway.” Sabrina’s blue gaze was guileless, but he didn’t believe it for a second; he knew his niece, and she wasn’t telling him something.

“Also, they’re doing some kind of construction work at the embassy, we’re told, which means it can’t be used over the next couple of days. ”

“Let me make a few calls—” Tamsin began.

“Don’t waste your time.” Sabrina uncharacteristically cut her off. “The ball is tonight. You’re better off getting packed up and finishing off your to-do lists.”

“Is it a twin room, at least?” Tamsin ran her fingers over one of the bracelets on her wrist.

“We booked one room. For me and my lovely mate, here. You think we sleep in separate beds?” Kieran grinned the kind of grin that made Max want to both punch and high-five him simultaneously.

His head hurt.

Tamsin looked like steam was about to hiss from her ears. “It better not be a fucking honeymoon suite.”

“I dinnae think suites are capable of fucking,” Max said mildly.

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Why nae?” Max pointed at Kieran. “He always is.”

“His wife pays my wage. You…you…” Tamsin’s jaw clenched.

Max’s eyes widened. “I, what?”

“Well, I’m sure this is going to be delightful for the two of you,” Sabrina said, clapping her hands together with a sunny smile, not giving Tamsin a chance to respond.

“I really think ye need to look into some kind of treatment for that,” Max said, waving vaguely at her jaw, completely ignoring his niece. “Yer gonna grind yer teeth into dust.”

Tamsin glared at him, then swept out of the room, regal as a queen leaving her subjects behind.

Max gave a shrug, then turned toward the noticeboard to try and work out why he’d been accused of stealing shampoo.

“You’ve really got to stop doing that,” Sabrina said, coming to stand beside him.

He looked at his niece and her ever-present mate. Kieran rubbed his chin. “Why? It’s his love language.”

Max blinked. “Excuse me?”

The vampire hybrid turned to stare at Max like he was an idiot. “It’s your love language .”

Max instantly regretted staying to look at the bloody noticeboard. “It would only be a love language if I were actually in love with her. Which I’m nae.”

“We’ll see,” Kieran replied.

Max stared at him, then shook his aching head slowly. “Ye are the shit-stirrer of all shit-stirrers in this castle. Go take yer chaos elsewhere.”

Kieran clapped Max on the shoulder and then headed out the door, like the vampire had finished a job well done.

Asshole.

“Be careful, Uncle Max.” Sabrina gave him a quick hug that he returned. He loved Sabrina as if she were his own daughter—even if she had mated an annoying bastard. “Tamsin has a temper when riled.” Then, on that ominous note, his niece swept from the room, following her co-conspirator.

Why was this all on him?

Tamsin was the one who overreacted to his provocations.

Every. Bloody. Time.

Although…she didn’t do that with anyone else.

He looked at the closed door. Did his niece know something he didn’t?

Deciding that was something he would deal with later, he focused on the noticeboard, determined to find out about this shampoo thief, along with this supposed dead body he now had to deal with.