Blood and Kisses Read Free Page B

and cold as a statue in a cemetery. “I’m there every night. I own the Tomb.”
    The breath Thalia had been subconsciously holding left her lungs in a rush. Whatever she had expected him to say, it hadn’t been that. “You own the Tomb?”
    He nodded. No more than a short, swift bob. His sensual mouth pressed into a tight, grim line.
    The professional investigator took over. “Is this common knowledge?” She wished she had her laptop or digital recorder, but she didn’t dare get up. Despite his size and the majesty of his movements, he was a dark specter who might vanish as quickly as he’d appeared.
    “Not as far as I know. I would hardly advertise my involvement with the Bell, Book, and Candle.” His tone was dry. “If people in the vampire community knew who owned the Tomb, they’d be constantly after me to expel the witches. Vampires are, excuse the pun, ‘fly-by-night’ patrons at best. I need witches and mayflies to keep the tavern running.” He leaned back in his chair, the mountain in repose.
    “Mayflies.” Thalia crossed her arms over her chest, offended by the term.
    “Mortals.”
    “I knew what you meant, though I suppose it’s better than ‘lunch’.” Hostility flattened her voice.
    Gideon tilted his head, eyes amused. “You think if they knew your people called them pettys, they’d, what? Take it as a compliment?”
    Thalia gave a wry laugh. “You got me there.”
    “And don’t think we don’t know what you all call us behind our backs.”
    The word “leech” hovered unspoken between them, and Thalia shook her head. “Okay, okay, truce?”
     
    Leave . Every synapse of Gideon’s brain seemed to urge him to escape the close confines of Thalia’s homey kitchen. Her presence was playing havoc with his self-control. But his body didn’t agree with his mind. Stay , it begged.
    His body won. “Truce.”
    He examined the elfin woman who sat across from him in the piece of doll’s furniture she called a chair. When Thalia was a child, her mother, the Champion then, had taken her everywhere. As a sort of apprentice, he supposed. He’d always been drawn to the tiny blue-eyed child. She’d seemed like a changeling, too otherworldly to be human. Adulthood hadn’t changed her fey charm, although she seemed shyer now, a wild creature that’d been hunted and become wary.
    It was that old fascination that kept him planted in his seat.
    Once more, she had attempted to hide her Champion’s mark with a strand of raven hair. Clearly, the mark bothered her, but Gideon liked the way the strawberry crescent moon hugged the gentle curve of her cheek. The imperfection only highlighted her luminous eyes and the lush curve of her pink lips. He doubted she had any clue how beautiful she was. How desirable.
    Lulled by the soothing patter of the rain and the soft husky cadence of her voice, he’d already stayed longer than he’d planned. Get what information she had and get out. That had been the plan.
    An inhuman yawn suddenly ripped him away from his thoughts.
    The source of the yawn, a fox terrier-sized, chestnut-red dog, stood in the doorway to the dining room. It had the sleek lines of a tiny deer. Pointed ears crowned an alertly wrinkled forehead split by a thin white blaze. Dark almond-shaped eyes seemed to see into him. Gideon had not been an ancient Egyptian, but he was reminded of Anubis weighing the souls of the dead against a feather to determine their worth. The dog had a white chest, four white paws and a white tip to the tail corkscrewed on his left hip.
    “Spirit,” said Thalia. “Where have you been?”
    I took a nap , the dog answered telepathically. He sat in the doorway, lifted one spotless paw to his mouth, and began washing his face.
    Gideon was able to communicate with animals, but animal thoughts were typically pictures punctuated by the occasional word. He’d never heard an animal speak in a complete sentence before. He raised an eyebrow in Thalia’s