Page 1 of The Fang Arrangement (Celestial Witches #2)

I wasn’t the smartest witch in my coven, or the most gifted, but I was, however, the most curious.

But as I stand beneath the bright, glowing red neon light, I wonder if this peculiar interest of mine might just be my demise.

My coven wasn’t receptive to my incongruous thoughts, so I learned to keep them to myself.

I hid folklore books under my bed as a teen, hoping my mother and grandmother would never find them.

If they did, I would’ve had to face the High Priestess for questioning anything outside of coven life.

In fact, if the High Priestess knew what I was up to, she’d probably threaten to burn me at the stake or do something even more drastic to teach me a lesson.

Witches are supposed to be happy with the platonic relationships within our coven, not intermingle with other supernaturals, we merely tolerate ordinary unmagical beings. If we want to bear a child, we make use of a human man, but nothing beyond procreation.

I hate it.

As much as I love being a witch, I want more.

I want someone who is only mine.

While my fellow witches, the women I walk through this life with, love me wholly, I yearn for a romantic attachment. My best friends, Violet and Iris, would follow me to the end of the world, but I’m not sure if they would follow me here .

A vampire bar is the last place a witch should be, especially one from the Celestial Coven.

This isn’t a place I should be looking for a romantic connection, far from it, yet here I am, standing in line to enter.

I drove three parishes over just to come to this particular bar, mostly so no one in my coven would find out about my little foray into the dark.

I don’t know how to explain why this particular type of darkness calls to me.

Curiosity may just kill the witch, but at least it will be one hell of a story.

Heels click behind me, and I turn. A tall, raven-haired woman who doesn’t look a day over twenty looks me up and down. She’s wearing a sleek, sophisticated black dress. Meanwhile, I’m wearing the strawberry peasant dress that pushes up my over abundant chest that Violet bought me for my birthday.

Her smile is wicked, just a hint of fang pressing against her full bottom lip as she tilts her head at me.

“Come, you’ll be my plus one,” she says, not even waiting for an answer as she grabs my wrist, her perfectly manicured red nails slightly digging into my skin.

I should decide right then and there that I’m in danger, that this isn’t where I should be. Yet, the idea of uncertainty, of doing something I shouldn’t, thrills me even more.

She tugs me in front of the bouncer. “She’s with me,” she says easily.

“ID,” the man says. He’s huge, his muscles fighting against his black shirt as I pull my ID out of my purse and hand it to him. He shakes his head and hands it back as the strange woman pulls me through the doors.

“Um. Hi? I’m Ember. What’s your name?” I ask her. She laughs too.

Yup. It’s official. Stupidest fucking witch of a generation. These vampires are going to drain me of every drop, and I’m the dumb bitch who willingly served myself up as a feast.

“Samantha, and I’m taking you to meet my dad.”

I blink, trying to both capture her words and all the surrounding chaos of the bar.

A game of pool is happening on the left of me so fast it takes me a moment to realize that vampires are actually playing the game.

There’s no way to ignore the blood bags hanging behind the bar top being poured into martini glasses for well-dressed vampires to drink.

I swallow thickly, whispering an incantation for safety under my breath.

Humans are here too, most of them in a daze, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. They all look happy, but like they aren’t completely coherent with their glazed stares.

“Your dad?” I ask, wondering just exactly who her father is and why we need to be introduced.

She snorts. “Well, my father, in the sense that he made me what I am. Though, he really fucking hates when I call him that, so obviously, I do it as often as I can.”

She continues dragging me through the bar; I get a few interested glances my way, but no one touches me or the woman ushering me to my very likely death. We reach a dark corridor and she drops my wrist.

“You know, maybe this was a mistake, I should probably?—”

Before I can finish my exit strategy, she flings the door open.

Multiple men in suits turn to look at her so unearthly fast I think I imagine it.

At least I know one thing from all the fairytales I’ve read is true.

Vampires are indeed faster than a blink of an eye.

I wonder what else is true and what’s fiction when it comes to the most infamous supernatural beings in the world.

The man behind the desk is the first to speak. “Samantha, darling, what did I tell you about knocking?” he says, a smile on his face, but there’s clear irritation there.

He’s ridiculously handsome, and not someone you would ever consider being someone’s father.

He has shiny, medium brownish-blonde hair, cheekbones that could cut glass, and blue eyes that almost look ethereal.

His gaze turns to me, his smile more predatory now as he uses his fang to grip the end of his black leather glove and free his hands, steepling them on his desk.

It’s more attractive than it should be, and I try to calm my breathing. Can these vampires hear my heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings?

“You’re dismissed,” the man says to the other vampires. He’s clearly higher up in the food chain, which has a mixture of fear and wonder flicking through me. Samantha pulls me to the side and all the men are gone before I can even gather my thoughts. “What have you brought me?” he asks.

Hopefully not your next victim, I think to myself.

I swallow thickly, my hand trembles as I debate pulling out my wand. At the very least, I could call for help. I’m not great with teleporting magic, but I think if I really needed to, I could use it. Fuck, I should have taken Violet more seriously about learning the skill.

“A witch,” Samantha says, ushering me to the chair on the opposite of this man's desk.

The man rubs the bridge of his nose with his now bare fingers and nods.

“Leave us,” he says to his…daughter?

“You need?—”

The man stands up so fast it barely registers as he grabs Samantha’s arm and drags her out of the office.

“Go home. I’ll send Betty to follow,” he says. Who the hell is Betty? And why would a vampire need an escort?

Samantha rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. Okay, so maybe they are father and daughter in some strange way. He doesn’t look much older than her; he was probably turned in his mid-twenties, but who knows how long he’s been roaming the earth.

I should be pissing my pants right about now, sitting in front of a who knows how old of a vampire. Yet, I feel a keen sense of adventure and, well, I’m quite nosey.

Before I even get a moment to glance around his office, the door is shut, and he’s taking the seat next to me, instead of in his high back chair on the other side of his desk.

My breath hitches as I take him in. Now that I think about it, every vampire I saw in the bar on my way in was effortlessly gorgeous.

But he takes the cake. His beauty is timeless and classic, like a European prince, back when they used to be hot.

Though his sinister smirk tells me he’s far from refined royalty.

He tilts his head at me, analyzing me, while I sit here stupefied and wondering why I couldn’t curb this interest in vampires in another way. Why did I need to come here to see what they were all about, let alone by myself? No one in my coven knows my whereabouts.

“Tell me, are you suicidal or stupid, witch?”

Valid question.

My mouth parts in shock, and he stares at my lips for a long moment. He leans forward, his cold fingertips gently gripping my chin to face him. His skin is cool, but not unpleasant. I wonder if he could effortlessly crush my jaw if he wanted to.

“What? Did you come here for a drop of vampire blood? Or something even more nefarious? It makes sense they would send you,” he says, glancing down at my cleavage that is sitting high in the pink frilly dress.

“Tell me, does your cunt of a High Priestess want a war with me too? Cause I can tell you right now, we’re nothing like those wolves.

Oz would destroy your coven in a night.”

He comes even closer, still holding my jaw as my heart races in my chest. “I could kill you right now, so easily. I’d take my time too, devouring every drop of your magical blood. Then I’d go to each and every home of your coven and do the same thing.”

His hand slides from my chin to my neck, his thumb on my pulse point. Fear lacing through my veins, along with something else I’ve never truly experienced. I can’t pinpoint the emotion as I blink, staring into his aqua eyes.

“It’s weak of Aster to send a messenger in such a pretty, tempting package,” he says, drawing his thumb up and down my beating pulse point. His chest doesn’t move, he doesn’t breathe, and is eerily still as he stares at me.

I lick my lips and finally find my words.

“No one in my coven knows I’m here.”

He pulls back, smiling with bright white fangs.

“Then what’s stopping me from locking you in my basement for eternity as my pretty, little magical blood bag?”

This is embarrassing. Not only am I probably going to die, but how do I convince him I came to the bar for a one-night stand or something more? Not to start a supernatural war between vampires and witches?

His hand is back on my chin again, this time it’s rougher as he forces me to stare into his gaze. They dilate quickly, the pupils nearly trembling as he speaks.

“Why are you here?” His tone is pure magic, commanding my obedience, and I find myself wanting to comply.

“I wanted to have a night of fun.” The words slip out of my mouth involuntarily. “It’s my twenty-first birthday.”

His brows pinch and his head tilts to the side curiously as he stares at me.

“Does Aster Delvaux have any intentions for conflict with the vampires?”

“Not that I know of,” I reply. Again, it slips out of me unconsciously.

“What’s your name?”

“Ember…Ember Hallow.”

He releases my chin and adjusts his suit jacket before sitting back down and looking me over once more. He seems to relax, no longer viewing me as a threat, but I can’t read his face.

The reality hits me. He just compelled me to tell him all of those things. How didn’t I know vampires were capable of something like that?

“It wasn’t wise coming here, Ember Hallow.”

“No?” I ask, trying to figure out how I’m going to get myself out of this mess.

I make a quick little vow that if I survive this, I’ll stop being such a reckless, foolish witch.

He smiles before standing. It seems like vampires don’t do well with sitting still. He heads to the wheeled bar at the corner of his office.

“What would you like?”

I scrunch my nose, looking at all the hard liquor.

“Silly of me, of course, you would drink something far more delicate. I myself have a bit of a sweet tooth,” he says and I swallow thickly as he comes back to his chair. “Let me have a taste and I’ll let you go.”

“Sorry. What?” I say without even thinking.

The vampire grins, grabbing my wrist, holding a thimble with a sharp prick on the end.

“Just a finger…just a taste…and then I’ll let you go. You have my word.”

“Why would I trust a vampire?”

“Ah, so you do have some fire in you. But you’re still the pretty little idiot who walked in my bar. If you’d like to walk out of here completely unscathed, I’ll be needing a taste of your blood.”

Okay, Ember, what would Iris do?

“Magically bind our promise,” I say, and he tilts his head as I take out my wand, flipping my hand so we’re holding each other’s wrists as I point the tip toward our skin.

I could easily start a fire, use the distraction to run away and attempt to teleport out of here. But the brain rotted part of me wants to see what happens.

“Vow to not harm me. For a taste of my blood, you are granting me protection,” I say, keeping it extremely vague. “Vow that you will never harm me.”

His lip twitches as his hold on my wrist tightens, and he pulls me closer. He smells rich, like aged whiskey and warm vanilla.

“I vow it.”

My magic zips through us and he inhales deeply. He brings the thimble to my pointer finger, making a painless cut. A bead of red blood pools to the surface as he brings my finger to his lips, sucking the tip.

His eyes are closed as he does so, his body going soft, before he stills completely.

He doesn’t let my finger go, as he opens his eyes and stares at me.

It shouldn’t be so erotic, the feel of this stranger sucking on my finger or noticing how affected he is.

But yet, it’s single-handedly the hottest experience I’ve had in my life.

His demeanor changes completely after he’s tasted my blood. I expect him to give me my hand back, but instead he tugs me closer to his face, his pretty eyes staring into mine.

“What are you doing?” I say quickly, actual fear hitting me now.

“What needs to be done.”

I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me, not as my heart races or as I hold my wand against his chest.

His eyes lock with mine, doing the same thing they did before, and I can’t help but to be captivated by his words.

“You will forget tonight. You’ll forget me.

But you won’t forget your desire for vampires, what my blood felt like.

No one can give you what I give you, Ember Hallow.

When the time is right, I’ll come to collect what is mine.

You will not put yourself in danger and you will not come here again.

Till we meet again, sunshine.” His soft words rattle my brain as everything goes black.