Every Which Way But Dead

The sultry submissiveness in his voice yanked my thoughts back to the elevator. Ivy once told me Kisten got off on playing the submissive. What I had found out was that a submissive vampire was still more aggressive than most people could handle. But I wasn’t most people. I was a witch.

I put my eyes on his, seeing that they were a nice steady blue. Unlike Ivy, Kisten freely indulged his blood lust until it wasn’t the overriding factor governing his life. “One hundred seventy-five dollars?” he offered, and I bent to get the sugar.

The man thought a cheap date was almost two hundred dollars?

“One hundred?” he said, and I looked at him, reading his genuine surprise.

“Our average date was sixty,” I said.

“Damn!” he swore, then hesitated. “I can say damn, can’t I?”

“Hell, yes.”

From her perch on the counter, Ivy snickered. Kisten’s brow pinched in what looked like real worry. “Okay,” he said, deep in thought. “A sixty-dollar date.”

I gave him a telling look. “I haven’t said yes yet.” He inhaled long and slow, tasting my mood on the air. “You haven’t said no, either.” “No.”

He slumped dramatically, pulling a smile from me despite myself. “I won’t bite you,” he protested, his blue eyes roguishly innocent.

From under the island counter I pulled out my largest copper spell pot to use as a mixing bowl. It wasn’t reliable any longer for spelling, as it had a dent from hitting Ivy’s head. The palm-sized paint ball gun I stored in it made a comforting sound against the metal as I took it out to put back under the counter at ankle height. “And I should believe you because …”

Kisten’s eyes flicked to Ivy. “She’ll kill me twice if I do.”

I went to get the eggs, milk, and butter out of the fridge, hoping neither of them sensed my pulse quickening. But I knew my temptation didn’t stem from the subliminal pheromones they were unconsciously emitting. I missed feeling desired, needed. And Kisten had a Ph.D. in wooing women, even if his motives were one-sided and false. From the looks of it, he indulged in casual blood taking like some men indulged in casual sex. And I didn’t want to become one of his shadows that he strung along, caught by the binding saliva in his bite to crave his touch, to feel his teeth sinking into me to fill me with euphoria. Crap, I was doing it again.

“Why should I?” I said, feeling myself warm. “I don’t even like you.”

Kisten leaned over the counter as I returned. The faultless blue of his eyes caught and held mine. It was obvious by his rakish grin that he knew I was weakening. “All the better reason to go out with me,” he said. “If I can show you a good time for a lousy sixty bucks, think what someone you like could do. All I need is one promise.”

The egg was cold in my hands, and I set it down. “What?” I asked, and Ivy stirred.

His smile widened. “No shirking.”

“Beg pardon?”

He opened the tub of butter and dipped his finger into it, licking it slowly clean. “I can’t make you feel attractive if you stiffen up every time I touch you.”

“I didn’t before,” I said, my thoughts returning to the elevator. God help me, I had almost done him right there against the wall.

“This is different,” he said. “It’s a date, and I would give my eyeteeth to know why women expect men to behave differently on a date than any other time.”

“Because you do,” I said.

He gave a raised-eyebrow look to Ivy. Straightening, he reached across the counter to cup my jaw. I jerked back, brow furrowed.

“Nope,” he said as he drew away. “I won’t ruin my reputation by taking you out on a sixty-dollar date for nothing. If I can’t touch you, it’s a no-go.”

I stared at him, feeling my heart pound. “Good.”

Shocked, Kisten blinked. “Good?” he questioned as Ivy smirked.

“Yeah,” I said, pulling the butter to me and scooping out about a half cup with a wooden spoon. “I didn’t want to go out with you anyway. You’re too full of yourself. Think you can manipulate anyone into doing anything. Your ego-testicle attitude makes me sick.”

Ivy laughed as she unfolded herself and jumped lightly to the floor without a sound. “I told you,” she said. “Pay up.”

Shoulders shifting in a sigh, he twisted to reach his wallet in a back pocket, pulling out a fifty and shoving it into her hand. She raised a thin eyebrow and made another tally mark in the air. An unusual smile was on her as she stretched to drop it into the cookie jar atop the fridge.

“Typical,” Kisten said, his eyes dramatically sad. “Try to do something nice for a person, cheer her up, and what do I get? Abused and robbed.”

Ivy took three long steps to come up behind him. Curling an arm across his chest, she leaned close and whispered in his torn ear, “Poor baby.” They looked good together, her silky sultriness and his confident masculinity.

He didn’t react at all as her fingers slipped between the buttons of his shirt. “You would have enjoyed yourself,” he said to me.

Feeling as if I’d passed some test, I pushed the butter off the spoon and licked my finger clean. “How would you know?”

“Because you enjoyed yourself just now,” he answered. “You forgot all about that shallow, self-centered human who doesn’t know a good thing when she bites him on his—” He looked at Ivy. “Where did you say she bit him, Ivy love?”

“His wrist.” Ivy straightened and turned her back on me to retrieve her coffee.

“Who doesn’t know a good thing when she bites him on his … wrist,” Kisten finished.

My face was burning. “That’s the last time I tell you anything!” I exclaimed to Ivy. And it wasn’t as if I had drawn blood. Good God!

“Admit it,” Kisten said. “You enjoyed talking with me, pitting your will against mine. It would have been fun,” he said as he looked at me through his bangs. “You look like you could use some fun. Cooped up in this church for God knows how long. When was the last time you got dressed up? Felt pretty? Felt desirable?”

I stood very still, feeling my breath move in and out of me, balanced. My thoughts went to Nick leaving to go out of town without telling me, our cuddling and closeness that had ended with a shocking abruptness. It had been so long. I missed his touch making me feel wanted, stirring my passions and bringing me alive. I wanted that feeling back—even if it was a lie. Just for a night, so I wouldn’t forget how it felt until I found it again.

“No biting,” I said, thinking I was making a mistake.

Ivy jerked her head up, her face expressionless.

Kisten didn’t seem surprised. A heady understanding was in his gaze. “No shirking,” he said softly, his eyes alive and glinting. I was like glass to him.

“Sixty-dollar maximum,” I countered.

Kisten stood, taking his coat from the back of the chair. “I’ll pick you up at one a.m., night after tomorrow. Wear something nice.”

“No playing on my scar,” I said breathlessly, unable to find enough air for some reason. What in hell was I doing?

With a predatory grace, he shrugged into his coat. He hesitated, thinking. “Not one breath on it,” he agreed. His thoughtful expression shifted to sly anticipation as he stood in the archway to the hall and held out his hand to Ivy.

Motions stiff, Ivy pulled the fifty back out of the cookie jar and gave it to him. He stood and waited, and she took another and slapped it into his hand.

“Thanks, Ivy love,” he said. “Now I have enough for my date and a haircut, too.” He met my eyes, holding them until I couldn’t breathe. “See you later, Rachel.”

The sound of his dress shoes seemed loud in the darkening church. I heard him say something to Jenks followed by the faint boom of the front door closing.

Ivy wasn’t pleased. “That was a stupid thing to do,” she said.