Page 6 of The Fang Arrangement (Celestial Witches #2)

H is name sounds like a caress as my magic surrounds us, binding our agreement.

I’m not sure if it’s fear of being made a martyr by his vampire council or if it’s something else…like this desperate ache and desire for adventure I haven’t been able to put my finger on for so long.

His touch ignites a spark in me that I can’t deny. Something that’s been simmering under the surface is awakened in his presence. I should be terrified, screaming out the door and running for my coven's help.

Then there's the promise of learning new magic. Maybe this is what I need to become the witch I’ve always wanted to be.

Even if it’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, the magic slithers up both of our wrists, connecting us to this vow. I’ll help him for the next six months, and he’ll offer me protection for a crime I didn’t even commit.

Part of that promise is that I won’t have to do anything illegal or anything harmful.

It will be fine, right?

The man—vampire—tilts his head at me. He’s strikingly handsome.

I’m not even sure how to put it into words.

Looking at him does more for me than all the men I’ve come across in my life times one-hundred.

How can this be possible? How is it that he excites something inside of me when no other man has.

His eyes look like a frozen glacial lake as he assesses me. He licks his lips as the vow seals itself and I pull my hand away from his colder one.

I wonder if manipulation is a power he possesses and maybe I’m not of sound mind as he appraises me.

Maybe he hypnotized me with how hot he is, how rich and enchanting his voice is.

This vampire is dangerous, not only because of how he could break me in half like a toothpick, but because when I look at him I feel something I’ve never felt before.

Hecate, Ember. Did you really get yourself into a complete cluster fuck over a hot vampire? Just because he’s good looking and has butterflies flapping in my stomach doesn’t mean he isn’t potentially evil.

“What exactly is it you need help with?” I say, realizing I should have read the fine print before slipping into an agreement with a vampire.

His eyes search mine, and he doesn’t clear his throat or make any human-like sounds. Instead, he stands to his full height, straightening out his suit jacket.

“I need a few items created, old magic. I have some grimoires for you to take home.”

My brows furrow. “What? Like protection items?”

“Yes, something of that sort. I may also need your assistance with some vampires that I need to deal with.”

“How would I help you deal with vampires?” I ask, thinking he has the wrong witch to help him with his problems.

I’m an elemental witch. If he wanted his gardens to win awards, that I could do.

Maybe he needs me to set something on fire?

That’s also something I’m rather good at.

But protection spells? Offensive or defensive magic?

I’m probably below average in both of those departments and it has me adjusting in my seat, hoping that he can’t tell how insecure I feel about his request.

He smirks, leaning against his desk. Each of his movements is graceful and effortless. He has a southern accent. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Maybe he comes from a prestigious family where you learn ten different types of forks and to never put your elbows on the table when you eat.

“Vampires live incredibly long lives. Lives that are built around keeping our secrets and protecting ourselves. I mentioned the grimoires. There are other spells to help…handle…a vampire if necessary.”

“Listen. I didn’t kill that vampire. I think you have the wrong witch.”

“No. I most certainly have the right one. Here, we’ll start with the first item and spell,” he says, striding over toward the bookcase, his finger trailing along spines that look like first editions, some of which could be ancient. “Ah, here we go.”

The grimoire is small, a brown leather book, clearly made by hand. It’s fraying around the edges as he opens up a page.

“One moment,” he says, and as soon as I blink he’s gone, and just as quickly, the door to his office shuts and closes. My hair whips around from the movement, and he stands before me like he never left.

I swallow thickly. I mean, the lore the humans spew about vampires is all over the place. I’d assumed the speed part was true, but I didn’t realize they’d be this fast.

“This will be a perfect conduit. I believe the spell specifically says to wear it on your ring finger,” he says, handing me the piece of jewelry.

“It’s obscene,” I say, the words slipping out of me before I can filter myself.

But truly, it’s a massive ring, clearly antique.

It’s reminiscent of an art déco design with slender diamonds stacked next to each other, shaped almost like a tiara.

“I don’t need something this fancy.” I try to save my insult.

He doesn’t shake his head, just tilts it to the left side once, a clear no.

“The gold in that ring belonged to a witch I knew a long time ago. She made the ring itself. The spell calls for a coven gifted ring,” he says.

I’ve barely even had a moment to read the damn thing with how fast he moves, and I glance down at the handwritten pages. The spell is in a looped cursive and sure enough it mentions that the piece of jewelry must have been forged by a magical being.

Warin watches me with stillness that makes me feel uncomfortable. I try to ignore his presence, which is next to impossible, as I read on.

My brows furrow as I reach the point in the passage where the witch explains the use of the spell.

“You’re giving me a grimoire with a spell that will protect me from vampires?” I ask, and blink as it sets in. “Wait, did you manipulate me into agreeing to help you for six months?”

He grins, his fangs shining next to the rest of his white, straight teeth. What it would feel like to have those fangs—no, bad. Very bad. This vampire is trapping us into a corner, not pushing us against the wall and ravishing us like some bodice ripper novel.

Something is absolutely wrong with me and I need to have my head checked immediately.

“No, darling. I fear you can’t blame me for this predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.”

“Why? Why would you give me this?” I ask.

He crowds my space, his arms grabbing the armrest of my chair, and I’m sure he can hear the way my pulse is beating like a war drum.

“Don’t worry, sunshine, I don’t bite.” He leans in, the ridge of his nose barely touching my ear. “Unless you ask me to.”

I swallow thickly, hoping he doesn’t notice that my heart is racing or that I’m turned on by his presumptive words. He pulls away from the chair quickly, almost like he’s collecting himself. He fiddles with his cufflinks that are perfectly in place and his tie that’s already flat.

“I hope you find this first task stimulating. You have till the end of the week. I will have Conner drive you home,” he says, his playful tone gone, as he rounds his desk and sits down in his chair.

“What if I…”

“What if you what?” he asks and I curse at myself.

Was I really about to ask this vampire—who clearly conned me—how to contact him if I needed him? I’ve officially lost it. Maybe Iris’ new potion to change my hair color made me lose all my brain cells.

“Nothing.” I grip the grimoire and slide the ring on my finger.

Warin watches the motion with an almost analytical gaze.

“I’ll be in touch. Conner,” he calls the man’s name in a low voice and the same man who dragged me here is standing at the door. I give him a shitty look, but he doesn’t even look at me. “Ensure that Miss Hallow returns home safely. She’s under my protection. Do you understand?”

I look between the two men, feeling like they’re speaking in some sort of code. How in the hell did I get here? What have I gotten myself into?

“Miss Hallow, follow me,” Conner says.

I give Warin one last glance, but he doesn’t look up from his paperwork. I’m not sure what his motives are or what he wants from me. All I know is none of this makes sense, and I plan on getting to the bottom of it and avoiding the vampire council at all costs.

Conner ushers me through the hallways of what I’m assuming is Warin’s home. I was too flustered when we came in here originally. Too worried about what my fate was going to be, but now that I look around, it’s clear that Warin is fuck-you rich.

His home isn’t an ancient swamp mansion, by any means.

The place is new, modern, and sleek. The design and decor would probably make a true southern belle scoff and roll her eyes at the egregious display of contemporary decor.

The walls are rich woods and deep blacks, a massive window down the stairs Conner is walking me down overlooks a lake with magnificent gardens.

“Isn’t it a little risky to have a window this big in your house when you’re a vampire?” I blurt out.

Conner doesn’t even look at me, just keeps walking a few steps behind me.

“It’s the best laminated glass that money can buy. No UV rays can pass through,” he says in a rather monotone voice.

“Huh,” I speculate, looking out at the window one more time and click my tongue as I notice a particular part of his garden where ivy is choking out a few of the trees on the property. My fingertips itch against my wand, wanting to fix it, but I leave it be.

Part of me wants to ask Conner a million questions, but something tells me prying into his employer’s business wouldn’t be met with easy answers and anything I say would be regurgitated right back to Warin.

Vampires are the most complicated of all the main supernatural beings.

They are more than likely the largest group of supernatural beings, which makes their lore harder to understand.

Mortals have been spreading rumors and tales about vampires for centuries and while some of it may be true, others are clearly a work of fiction.

I wonder if Warin Auclair is even his real name? How old is he really? Does this home have a deed?

I keep these thoughts to myself and make a plan to figure out exactly what kind of man I’m dealing with the moment I get home.

The rest of his home that I’m able to see is clean with sharp lines and a mix of moody and bright textures as Conner opens up one of the massive wooden doors, leading me outside to the same black SUV that picked me up.

The cicadas are screaming their heads off, along with frogs croaking as we follow the solar paneled lights down the driveway and he opens the back door for me. When I slide in, I glance down at the grimoire and the ring on my finger.

What the fuck kind of arrangement did I just agree to with this vampire?

As soon as I open the door to my cottage, Gus is screaming into my mind.

“Where the fuck have you been? Who were those dickweeds and what did they want?”

He’s scurrying around, more frantic than I've ever seen him, as I enter the living room and plop down on my second hand couch.

“Answer me, witch,” Gus says, waving his small raccoon hand in my face.

I lick my lips and clutch the book of spells against my chest and blink a few times before looking into Gus’ dark, beady eyes.

“Vampires,” I whisper softly.

“Oh fuck. We’re dead. We’re fucking dead. They’re going to come back here and drink us all dry.”

I’m still staring at the wall where I have a painting of wisteria flowers hanging as Gus grabs my chin. He’s nearly baring his teeth at me.

“You stupid fucking witch! What did you do?”

I have absolutely no idea, but it can’t be good.