With a thorough push of magic, the familiar tingling sensation shooting through my veins, I opened the wrought iron gate at the front. He glanced down at me, all congenial and smiling, like he hit women with his car and carried them around for the fun of it every day of his life. I tried to ignore how he maneuvered me in his strong arms like I weighed nothing, his powerful strength on full display. But of course, all vampires were exceptionally strong. No need to ponder on his.
While I didn’t have the fuller curves like my sisters, I was the tallest. I loved my height. I owned it, relishing the fact that I could look most men eye-to-eye. Or even down at them. But not this one. His powerful physique and easy strength made me feel strangely vulnerable. It wasn’t a feeling I was used to, and I didn’t like it.
Before we made the steps to the front porch, the heavy front door swung open.
“Well, this is interesting,” said my sister Violet, a red Twizzler hanging out of her mouth, one hand on the door. “What did you do?”
“What do you mean what did I do?”
“I’m sorry to say,” the vampire interrupted smoothly while carrying me into the house, “that I hit your sister on her bike.”
Violet heaved out a breath. “I knew this would eventually happen.”
“Thanks for your sympathy, Violet.”
She shrugged, walking ahead of us toward the living room. “You look alright.”
Kicking up my leg with my swollen ankle, now about three times its normal size, I replied, “Yeah, I’m just dandy.” Then something occurred to me. I snapped my attention back to the vampire. “How do you know she’s my sister?” I asked, my attention now riveted to the underside of his chin where his short beard was cut close and trim, defining the square angle of his jaw.
A fleeting glance of those mahogany eyes. “Similar shape of the eyes.” He walked me to the sofa and set me down lengthwise, his gaze fixing more intently on mine. “But the shade is entirely different.”
To break the uncomfortable snare of his gaze, I cleared my throat and tried to reach for the throw pillow to put under my foot. But he was there doing it before I could even ask.
“What happened?” Livvy stood in the open arch leading to the kitchen. Her long black hair piled in a messy bun, she wore a typical Livvy outfit—red-and-orange dragon-flame tights with an off-the-shoulder fitted black top and wide patent leather red belt. She held a mixing bowl against her belly and a chocolate-smeared spatula.
Before I could say anything, Violet piped in, standing above me at the head of the couch. “Isadora finally got herself hit by a car while on that bike.”
“Violet. Go away.” I wasn’t in the mood for her attitude, especially with my assailant standing by my feet, listening in.
Livvy tilted her head, her full red lips smoothing into a sympathetic line. “You need to learn to drive, Izzy. You’ve had too many close calls, and now this.” She stepped into the room, her gaze skating to my ankle.
“I don’t need a lecture.”
Livvy was the next oldest sister above me. And while she rarely played the big sister card, she tended to become maternal when pointing out this one particular flaw of mine. Or phobia, however you wanted to look at it.
“You need to get over this driving thing.” She sighed, standing right beside me now. She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “How badly are you hurt?”
Anger rolled in my belly, spiking my adrenaline. I didn’t want to have this conversation for the hundredth time, and I certainly didn’t want to have it in front of the jackass who hit me with his car.
“I’m fine. And why are you baking? What’s wrong?” Livvy tended to bake, especially with chocolate, when something was bothering her.
She dropped the spatula into the bowl and moved it to her hip so she could trace her fingers lightly over my swollen ankle. “Not too bad.” She had ignored my attempt to shift the attention to her. But it seemed ignoring Isadora was the theme for the night. “You can fix this quickly enough.”
The vampire, still quiet, made a sudden movement, his brows raised. “You’re a Conduit?”
I nodded, lips pressed tight. Because I knew what was coming before he said it.
“Then why not fix it back on the street?” His expression wasn’t accusatory, more confused.
I’d been known to heal a number of people while they writhed and screamed in pain. That had never unsettled or stopped me from using my healing magic before. Traumatic events didn’t knock me off-center. But something about this whole night had rattled me to the core. I knew I couldn’t summon my magic until this vampire got the hell out of my presence. I was sure it all stemmed from the fact that I’d been hit on my bike when I’d always touted how safe the transportation was.
The opening and banging of the back door leading into the kitchen echoed a few seconds before our sister Clara walked in. “Oh, no! What happened?”
Thank you, Clara, for saving me from answering the vampire.
Clara was the sweetest of my sisters. She was also the youngest, having arrived three minutes after Violet.
“This guy hit Isadora with his car,” said Violet, nonchalantly, balancing her butt on the back of the sofa.
“Isadora, you poor thing.” Clara knelt at my side and clasped my hand. “Are you hurt bad?”
Her worried expression zoned in on my foot. Without even knowing it, I’d bet, she pushed waves of tranquility into me with her empathic magic. She couldn’t help it. Auras needed to spread joy and peace like Conduits needed to help and heal.
“I’m fine, Clara.” I squeezed her hand, happy at least one sister was on my side. “Thank you.”
“I know you from somewhere.” It was Livvy, eyeing the vampire still standing in my living room, hands in his fancy pants’ pockets.
For some reason, in the light of our living room, the force of his magic seemed to have amplified. Or maybe that was just because I wasn’t so focused on the accident now that I was safe in my home.
He reeked of power. His disarming stance and charming smile did nothing to diffuse it. My Conduit magic could detect potent sources of energy better than any supernatural, and this guy was pumping it out in waves. I suddenly wanted him out of our house.
“Oh, my goodness,” gushed Clara, wide blue eyes staring at him. “Your aura is…”
His head tilted, his expression softening to one of humility. As if. “I’ve heard from other clever Auras that it’s a kaleidoscope. Am I right?”
She nodded eagerly. “Such a pretty rainbow.”
His smile brightened even more. Good Lord, Clara! Don’t encourage him.
“But I know you,” continued Livvy, standing closer to him, studying his face. “I’ve seen you.”
He offered her his hand. “I’m Devraj—”
“Holy shit!” Livvy gasped, grasping his hand in hers. “You’re Devraj Kumar.”
With a modest smile, he nodded once and shook her hand. “I am.”
“Who?” I asked. I mean, he’d told me his name, but why would Livvy know him?
She let out a laugh that sounded a little too fangirly to me. Livvy never gushed or fangirled. “Isadora. You were hit by the Devraj Kumar. Famous Bollywood movie star.”
“Oh, a movie star. Well, I guess that makes it all right then.”
“And you’re a vampire,” added Violet with wicked glee. “So fucking cool.”
Livvy dropped his hand and held her mixing bowl with both hands again. “Do you work for Ruben?”
Was she fluttering her eyelashes? What was happening here?
He paused, charming smile still in place. “On occasion. And I’m in town to visit and help him with a case. If I can.”
His gaze skated to me on the sofa where I was sure my glare of extreme annoyance—or seething hatred rather—was more than apparent. I don’t care if he’d won Sexiest Man of the Year, two Oscars, a Golden Globe, and Coolest Asshole in a Lamborghini Award. The fact that he had my sisters all swoony and girlish made me want to hurl.
“Speaking of which…” He glanced back toward the hallway that led to the front door. “I should be going.” He rounded the sofa and leaned over, taking my hand in his. “It was a pleasure bumping into you.”
“Really?” I snapped, a little too much venom in my voice.
He stifled a laugh. Just barely. “Truly.” He squeezed my hand with both of his, then he removed a card from his pocket and handed it over to me. “I’ll deliver your bicycle to you as soon as possible. And replace your phone.”
“I have phone insurance,” I said again, staring at the white card with just his name in bold print and his phone number.
“Then send me the bill for the deductible. I take full responsibility for this accident.”
Even though he’d mouthed off to me when it first happened, I was almost mollified as he strode for the hall.
“Wait! My pansies.”
He turned. “How could I forget? Could one of your sisters…?”
“I’ll go,” and “Let me help,” and “I’ll get it” came out of my sisters’ mouths all at the same time.
His charming smile brightened, and I wanted to punch it off his face. His sultry gaze swept back to me.
Sighing, I said, “Clara, you go.”
He dipped his head in a slight bow like some aristocratic lord from the 18th century then gave me one last searing look before he left. Which made me wonder again how old he was.
Vampires could live well close to a thousand years. They had the longest lifespan of the supernaturals. That we knew of, anyway. Werewolves could live to half a millennium or thereabouts. Most witches lived well into their three hundreds. Sometimes a little longer. The only one we still weren’t sure of was grim reapers. But that’s because we knew next to nothing about them at all. And they liked to keep it that way.
As soon as the front door opened and closed, Violet fanned her face with her hand. “Fucking hell, that vampire is hot.”