I’d come home,” I said. “Did you miss me?”
“Lots! But Blossom’s been here and she does everything for
me. And she’s made cake every day! I think I want to marry her. Is that okay
with you, Mom?”
I chuckled. “Isn’t she a little old for you?”
He shrugged. “Nah. And she’s beautiful.” He paused. “But so
is Heather. She’s younger. Maybe I’ll marry her instead.”
I knew Blossom—the cake-baking witch with blond hair,
big eyes and a spell-enhanced chest, who had become a good friend—but I
didn’t know Heather. The name rang some kind of bell in my mind, but I couldn’t
immediately place it.
“Who’s Heather?” I asked him.
“She’s been helping Dad and Blossom. She’s here right now.”
Dorian tugged at my hand to pull me inside, but my feet remained planted
outside the door. I looked over my shoulder at Tristan.
“Heather?” I asked.
His angry scowl transformed into a guilty grimace.
Jealousy’s green tentacles tried to slither around my heart, but then the image
of a handwritten note appeared in my mind, a letter I’d received right after
the trial, signed by Heather. She’d been the girl whose dad I’d punched in the
nose ten years ago, and a few weeks later, he’d driven his car into Mom’s
bookstore. She’d written me to ask for my help, believing that her sister
Sonya, who had stalked me, the author, had become a vampire. Ah, crap. I wasn’t in the best mental or
physical state to take this on.
“Sorry,” Tristan muttered. “I should have given you some
warning. She was sitting on the front step the day Dorian and I arrived, and
she hasn’t left since.”
I drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“Come on, Mom,” Dorian said, still tugging on my arm.
“You’re letting the bugs in.”
I reluctantly crossed the threshold and into my
home—the place I’d lived in for only a few months and had been gone from
twice as long. It didn’t feel quite like home at the moment. Especially knowing
my two men had been here earlier with the two women sitting at my dining table.
Well, one woman and one girl. The unfamiliar one, with shoulder-length, brown
hair and blue eyes, couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old.
“Hi,” she said with a little wave of her hand and a wide
smile that showed nearly all of her pearly whites. “I’m Heather.”
Before I could get a word out, Blossom sprang out of her
chair and threw her arms around my neck. “Alexis! It’s so good to see you!”
Then she jerked out of my arms and started mumbling
apologies for her behavior as she dipped into a curtsy.
“Oh, stop that,” I growled, grabbing her arm and pulling her
into a hug. She let out a joyous laugh.
“Don’t worry, Heather’s all right,” Blossom whispered in my
ear. “I’ve been watching her.”
I gave her a squeeze of appreciation.
For some reason, I’d expected Heather to immediately jump
all over me about helping her sister, but she didn’t. Rather, she acted quite
mature for her age, making small talk about my trip and how she and Dorian had
spent the day. After a while, she and Blossom left.
“I thought you said Heather hadn’t left since you’ve been
here,” I said to Tristan after we put Dorian to bed, grimacing at the
accusatory tone of my own voice.
Was I reading too much into the fact that she finally
decided to leave once the wife came home? She certainly had a crush on Tristan,
the way she looked at him. But was there more than that? Sure, Tristan was way too old for her, but then again, I’d
been only eighteen when he came looking for me. Stop being petty! Totally different situation.
“Don’t worry—she’ll be back tomorrow.” His annoyed
tone reassured me.
“You don’t like her?”
“She’s a good kid. She’s been really helpful with Dorian.
But she’s, well, very persistent.”
“Persistent with what?” Ugh .
There it was again—that tone of suspicion.
A smile danced on his lips. “About her
“Lots! But Blossom’s been here and she does everything for
me. And she’s made cake every day! I think I want to marry her. Is that okay
with you, Mom?”
I chuckled. “Isn’t she a little old for you?”
He shrugged. “Nah. And she’s beautiful.” He paused. “But so
is Heather. She’s younger. Maybe I’ll marry her instead.”
I knew Blossom—the cake-baking witch with blond hair,
big eyes and a spell-enhanced chest, who had become a good friend—but I
didn’t know Heather. The name rang some kind of bell in my mind, but I couldn’t
immediately place it.
“Who’s Heather?” I asked him.
“She’s been helping Dad and Blossom. She’s here right now.”
Dorian tugged at my hand to pull me inside, but my feet remained planted
outside the door. I looked over my shoulder at Tristan.
“Heather?” I asked.
His angry scowl transformed into a guilty grimace.
Jealousy’s green tentacles tried to slither around my heart, but then the image
of a handwritten note appeared in my mind, a letter I’d received right after
the trial, signed by Heather. She’d been the girl whose dad I’d punched in the
nose ten years ago, and a few weeks later, he’d driven his car into Mom’s
bookstore. She’d written me to ask for my help, believing that her sister
Sonya, who had stalked me, the author, had become a vampire. Ah, crap. I wasn’t in the best mental or
physical state to take this on.
“Sorry,” Tristan muttered. “I should have given you some
warning. She was sitting on the front step the day Dorian and I arrived, and
she hasn’t left since.”
I drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“Come on, Mom,” Dorian said, still tugging on my arm.
“You’re letting the bugs in.”
I reluctantly crossed the threshold and into my
home—the place I’d lived in for only a few months and had been gone from
twice as long. It didn’t feel quite like home at the moment. Especially knowing
my two men had been here earlier with the two women sitting at my dining table.
Well, one woman and one girl. The unfamiliar one, with shoulder-length, brown
hair and blue eyes, couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old.
“Hi,” she said with a little wave of her hand and a wide
smile that showed nearly all of her pearly whites. “I’m Heather.”
Before I could get a word out, Blossom sprang out of her
chair and threw her arms around my neck. “Alexis! It’s so good to see you!”
Then she jerked out of my arms and started mumbling
apologies for her behavior as she dipped into a curtsy.
“Oh, stop that,” I growled, grabbing her arm and pulling her
into a hug. She let out a joyous laugh.
“Don’t worry, Heather’s all right,” Blossom whispered in my
ear. “I’ve been watching her.”
I gave her a squeeze of appreciation.
For some reason, I’d expected Heather to immediately jump
all over me about helping her sister, but she didn’t. Rather, she acted quite
mature for her age, making small talk about my trip and how she and Dorian had
spent the day. After a while, she and Blossom left.
“I thought you said Heather hadn’t left since you’ve been
here,” I said to Tristan after we put Dorian to bed, grimacing at the
accusatory tone of my own voice.
Was I reading too much into the fact that she finally
decided to leave once the wife came home? She certainly had a crush on Tristan,
the way she looked at him. But was there more than that? Sure, Tristan was way too old for her, but then again, I’d
been only eighteen when he came looking for me. Stop being petty! Totally different situation.
“Don’t worry—she’ll be back tomorrow.” His annoyed
tone reassured me.
“You don’t like her?”
“She’s a good kid. She’s been really helpful with Dorian.
But she’s, well, very persistent.”
“Persistent with what?” Ugh .
There it was again—that tone of suspicion.
A smile danced on his lips. “About her
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