Page 20 of The Fang Arrangement (Celestial Witches #2)

It takes everything in me to not gasp out in shock. It’s fine, totally cool. I’m sitting on the lap of the extremely attractive vampire who kidnapped me. No big deal, not at all, not the way he holds me like I belong there, or how confident he is in showing me off to his council.

This is all totally normal.

His arm spans my middle, his hand splayed on my stomach as he presses my body against his. It shouldn’t feel this good.

“How pestiferous,” Joyce says, her chin high in the air.

What an old immortal bitch? It has my body relaxing further against Warin’s large chest. Hatred for this judgmental vampire fueling my willingness to play along, it’s not that I’m also enjoying this.

No way do I like how strong his thighs feel under mine, or how comforting his touch is around my waist.

It would be wrong to love this vampire's touch, especially with the given company.

“Now, Joyce, you didn’t simply come here, into my home, to be an absolutely horrific cunt to my guest of honor, now did you?” Warin asks.

I shouldn’t like him calling her that word. It shouldn’t give me a sick satisfaction. I definitely shouldn’t be smirking at this extremely pompous woman, but here I am.

Her jaw clenches before her cheeks hollow, a clear attempt at trying to keep her mouth shut.

The other woman stands, walking behind Joyce’s chair.

“Excuse Joyce's manners. But we wouldn’t be here if it was something minimal, you know this, Warin. You’re the functionary of Eastern Louisiana since your sire’s passing,” she says in a thick English accent.

“Your position is indeed in place to not only keep the vampires in your area in line but to also report back to the council if there is ever an issue against our greater good, is that correct?”

“That is correct,” Warin says behind me. His body is tense, yet his fingers are gentle on my skin, reassuring even.

“Then please enlighten us on why a slayer is in your territory and you didn’t deem it absolutely necessary for the council to know,” she says, and all the council members stare at him.

I try not to let my relief show. They aren’t here for me in any capacity; they want the Slayer.

“You mean why would I want my vengeance on the monster who killed my sire?” Warin says, and I wonder how he can so easily lie to their faces; I suppose I’m doing the same, though he seems way better at it.

Joyce snickers, but the other woman doesn’t move an inch, almost like she’s frozen in time.

“Please, we aren’t fools, Warin. Your relationship with Oz was a complicated one. You had nothing but to gain after his demise,” Joyce says.

“It’s being handled,” Warin states, and the balding vampire stands next.

I wonder if you can’t grow hair once you’re a vampire? Are you permanently frozen however you looked when you died? If so, it’s honestly a shame for this man.

“You mean mismanaged? How long has the search been going for? We’ve only just gotten word that your sire’s death was potentially a slayer, why didn’t you alert the council?” the bald vampire says.

I swallow thickly, and Warin holds me closer.

“Justin, a displeasure as always to see you. We are hunting the Slayer nightly, which your arrival has set back extraordinarily. If you would like to add more soldiers into the fray of finding the Slayer, please, by all means. Or maybe you’d like to get your hands dirty for once and go out there yourself? ”

Warin has a way of getting under these people’s skin and I can’t help but enjoy the show.

Cool lips press against my throat and I can’t help but to let out a soft breath of air. Just the small touch sends a fresh set of shivers down my arms and I’m not sure if I should let the council see how he affects me, or if I should be unaffected by his touch?

I really needed more guidelines on how I’m supposed to act in front of these people. I probably need to figure out how to act around Warin in general. The conflicting feelings of all the dirty things I want to do with him and what secrets he’s keeping are hard to navigate.

“Unlike the lot of you, I have delicious things to keep me busy. I’m sorry that you weren’t notified but I promise it wasn’t because of lack of respect for your prestigious council,” Warin says, planting another kiss against my throat.

The bridge of his nose glides along my neck. The caress feels wicked against my skin. A clear show of how ridiculous he finds these vampires coming into his home and demanding answers from him. Or maybe it’s more?

He flirts with me endlessly, stares at my breasts like they might disappear. He’s attracted to me, but is that all this is?

“Can I interest anyone in a glass?” Samantha says, and I blink. When the hell did she even get here?

The vampires make a mumbled noise of agreement. Warin does not.

“You won’t be toasting with us?” Magnus asks, holding the cup up to his nose.

“It’s like asking me to drink boxed wine. I’ve been spoiled as of late,” Warin says, pushing my hair to the side, his tongue swiping out and licking my throat. This time I can’t help but gasp and wiggle into his lap.

None of the council members drink their glasses, and they’re all staring at us.

Why do I kind of want them to leave and see if Warin would do this without their presence? Oh, Hecate, what is wrong with me?

“Do you think I’d be petty enough to poison all of you?” Warin asks, and I can hear the humor in the way he says it. “Samantha, show them that it is safe,” he says to his progeny and I wonder why he won’t drink the blood.

Samantha takes the lowball glass and takes a big sip. Joyce raises a dark brow at her and Samantha looks like she’s holding back an eye roll as she downs the rest of the blood.

Samantha clutches at her throat and makes a harrowing noise. All the council members are on their feet, before Samantha lets out a laugh, all choking noises stop.

“It’s not poisoned, for fuck’s sake,” she says, putting the decanter on the coffee table.

“This lack of respect is abhorrent. We should take him and the witch for further questioning,” Joyce suggests, motioning in our direction. “There’s no way he actually wants her. She must have some other purpose. Just look at her.”

In a single moment, I’m off Warin’s lap, my ass falling into the leather cushion as Warin is on his feet.

A large crash startles me as the decanter goes tumbling to the floor, blood pooling on the ground.

My reflexes are too slow compared to a vampire. It takes me too long to realize that Warin has broken off a leg of the coffee table and fashioned it into a makeshift stake that is now protruding out of Joyce’s stomach.

“Apologize,” he growls in her face.

“This is ridiculous. You’re threatening a member of the council,” Magnus says, but no one intervenes.

Maybe even Joyce’s co-workers hate her a little bit. From what I’ve seen, it tracks.

“She came into my home, disrespected me and my companion. The stake isn’t in her heart. Though,” he hums, his arms shifting and Joyce’s eyes widening. “It would only take the slightest movement to poke at your wretched little heart, wouldn’t it, Joyce? Apologize.”

I shift in the chair, knowing that I should hate this. That I should be horrified by Warin’s behavior. The act of violence should have me running for the hills. I should be passed out over the spilled blood on the floor and the threat these vampires pose.

Yet, I despicably feel something the opposite of disgust. Maybe it’s part of the game we’re playing, the show we’re putting on for the council. But there’s something so raw and unfiltered in Warin’s gaze as he holds the coffee table leg deep in Joyce’s gut, commanding her to apologize to me.

“You must be using her for some other purpose,” Joyce says, doubling down.

He pushes the wood deeper into her gut and my nails dig into the arms of the chair as I watch his anger rise.

“Are you jealous because she can hold my attention? Because I want her? It’s very pathetic, Joyce. Should I tell you how hard my cock gets when I feed from her? How I feel like I could come the moment my teeth sink into her perfect breasts?”

My heart is racing and I can tell it has the attention of every vampire in the room as I listen to Warin’s words. I think about the things he said when he was asleep.

Do I actually have that much power over Warin’s attention?

“You lie,” she seethes.

A growling noise leaves him as he pulls the stake out. It’s high above his head. He’s about to fucking stake a vampire council member for disrespecting me.

The man who hasn’t spoken grabs Warin’s wrist. He looks endlessly bored. His dark black hair in a knot on the back of his head. I wonder if he was a pirate when he was turned, he’s handsome, but nothing compared to Warin.

“That is enough. Joyce shut the fuck up and stop poking at him. Put the stake down and take a seat, War,” the vampire says.

The stake comes clattering to the ground.

Warin looks at me quickly, then down at his bloodied hands. He wipes them on his suit jacket before grabbing me by the hips and placing me back down gently on his lap.

“My apologies, Sebastian. Continue,” he says calmly. Like he didn’t almost kill Joyce.

I think about using our safe word, of saying I’m tired, but my ridiculously curious nature keeps me firmly placed on Warin’s lap, which by some bizarre turn of events is somehow the safest place I could be right now.