“You’re awfully quiet,” he commented as he opened the front gate leading to our porch.

“Just thinking.”

“I gathered that.” He chuckled.

Before I could step up to the porch, he grabbed my hand and pulled me to face him. Those rich mahogany eyes burned, flaming over my cheeks and down my neck then back up to meet my gaze.

“Are you upset?” he asked softly. Sweetly.

“No.” His tender tone made something ache beneath my ribcage.

“You seem so.”

“And you’re an expert on my moods now?”

“I’m an observant man.” His hand slipped from mine to wrap around my neck. “And observing what makes you laugh or frown, what makes your heart beat faster.” His thumb brushed my pulse. “It’s one of my favorite pastimes.” He eased closer, his voice dropping to an intimate caress. He slid his hand at my nape to cup my jaw, his thumb trailing along my bottom lip. “And you tend to fidget with the hem of your skirt when you’re anxious.” His other hand gripped mine where I did indeed have hold of my hem. He laced our fingers together, his broad palm against my smaller one.

Heart drumming like mad, I stared up at him, reveling in the sensuous feel of his thumb sweeping over my mouth. I wasn’t a liar, so I couldn’t tell him I didn’t want that, too.

Afraid to take that plunge, I simply stepped back until his hand dropped away, mourning that tactile loss. “Goodnight, Devraj.”

I shot up the steps and into the house before he could protest, closing the door on the man who twisted my insides into a nest of mangled knots. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but lean back against the door and press my fingertips to my lips, relishing the trail of heat he left there.

If I was a risk-taker like Violet, free with my affections and wild at heart, I’d take Devraj up on his offer. To get to know each other better. But the truth kept nagging at me. He’s the kind of man I could easily lose my heart to. After this job, he’d be moving on to somewhere else or jet-setting back to Europe or somewhere exotic and beautiful. And I’d be mending my heart in my greenhouse.

No. Keeping my distance from Devraj Kumar was definitely the right decision, I assured myself as I walked upstairs, touching my lips one more time.

Chapter 12

~ISADORA~

“Asshole,” muttered Jules as she stared down at her phone at the breakfast table, her coffee steaming beside her.

I put the kettle on the stove, needing some caffeine this morning. I’d slept heavily last night after expending so much energy with Emma in the hospital. Still, I felt invigorated from using my magic to do such good for someone else. Don’t get me wrong. I loved my quiet healing spells with plants and the strays I helped at Angel Paws, but something about healing Emma had settled a new kind of contentment in my breast. Also, the interrogation afterward at The Green Light had exhausted me further. Not to mention the fact that I laid awake in my bed for quite some time, trying not to think of a pair of whiskey-warm brown eyes.

I’d relayed everything to Jules that we’d learned from Darren Webber before I went to bed, so I wondered if something new had popped up.

“What is it?” I asked, shuffling in my bare feet and pajamas to the table.

Jules jerked her head up, her brow pinched into a deep frown. Then she snorted a disgusted laugh. “Oh, not much. Just perusing Ruben’s ratings on iBite.”

“He sent you the invitation then.”

She was engrossed again, her head down. “Listen to this one. ‘Mr. Dubois is so generous with his hosts, taking time to be sure the experience is as pleasurable for the host as it is for him. I highly recommend him if you’re lucky enough to be selected. I’d do anything he asked.’ Then there’s a winky emoji. I mean, come ON! She’s practically begging to sleep with him.”

“Well, of course she is,” I snorted a laugh then met her steely gaze. Oops. “Have you seen Ruben, Jules? I’ll bet every single one of his blood hosts are trying to get into his pants.”

If looks could kill, her silver guillotine-eyes would’ve decapitated me. So I added something I knew to be true and would unruffle her feathers. Maybe. She was in quite the tizzy.

“But I know for a fact he doesn’t sleep with his blood hosts.”

“How do you know that?” Her guarded expression flicked from her phone screen to me as she flipped through it furiously.

“Tia told me that one of Ruben’s rules for The Green Light is that no vampires sleep with their hosts. Apparently, he says it’s dangerous.”

“How do you mean?” Now she’d set her phone completely down, focusing on me.

“Well, though I’ve never been bitten by a vampire, lore tells us that the bite itself can be addicting, right?” She nodded, then the kettle on the stove started to whistle. I hopped up to go and fix my tea. “Tia said that when you mix sex with the bloodsucking, it can be too heady a combo for humans. They become dangerously addicted to the vampire, and it’s resulted in seriously unhinged stalkers and stuff. She said he has a zero-tolerance policy about it at the club and only sanctions it for long-term couples who’ve signed written contracts with other rules and such. You should know this,” I couldn’t help accusing.

I spooned some of the loose tea leaves of my own making from the greenhouse, a mixture to energize, into the silver strainer set in my cup and poured the hot water over it, the heady brew waking my senses.

When I glanced up, Jules’s face was white as a sheet. “What do you mean? How would I know that?”

“I mean, you’re an Enforcer. Didn’t Mom ever tell you this kind of stuff? I figured you had all the intel on the supernaturals.”

I set the strainer with the soaked tea leaves in the sink and settled in my usual spot at the table beside her.

She shifted nervously in her seat, sipping her coffee. Rather than answer my question, she asked me another. “How does Tia know so much about Ruben’s rules?”

I couldn’t help grinning. “Apparently, she’s got a new boyfriend, her neighbor Marcus, and he does a lot of business with Ruben.”

“The guy she put a hex on last Christmas and Evie had to intervene to fix?”

I laughed. “The very one.”

Ruben was overlord of the New Orleans vampires, but he also had a hand in many businesses. I didn’t even know how many, honestly, but he always had a variety of characters coming and going at his bookstore. Many of whom arrived with bodyguards and such.

As I sipped my tea, I suddenly became way too curious about something. “Can I see something?” I asked as I pulled her phone across the table.

“Sure.” She hopped up. “I’m going to make omelets.”

I scrolled back to the home screen of the app. Unable to help myself, I typed in a particular name in the search box at the top. Good grief! Six hundred and thirty-seven reviews with literally thousands of comments? From women all over the damn world!

The gushing and fawning over Devraj’s pleasurable bite spiked my adrenaline. The things these women were saying! Complete euphoria. Mind-blowing ecstasy. And—oh, come on! His mouth is now my go-to fantasy for getting off. The worst was some woman named Elmira in Italy who wrote, Ten million stars! No sex is needed with a man like Devraj. I came from his mouth on my neck and his teeth in my throat alone.

I clicked off the phone, my heart racing. Jules was whisking her eggs furiously. And though I totally understood her angry vibes, that’s not what I was feeling. It was envy twisting my stomach into knots, not anger. These other women had experienced pleasure in the arms of Devraj. Suddenly, I had the craziest thought. Why shouldn’t I do the same?

Now that I was completely awake and feeling overly fidgety, I needed to get out. I rinsed my teacup and headed out of the kitchen. “I’m going to the market for some fresh fruit. We’re all out.”

“No omelet?” she called.

“Not for me. Thanks.” I was too annoyed to eat.

“If they have any jackfruit, get me two or three, please.”

“Sure thing.”

Jules was always experimenting with new recipes, and the Asian market just a few blocks from our house had the most delicious fruit, local and imported. I was a bit of a fruit addict, so I made the trip at least once a week for fresh produce.

I pulled on a lightweight, sleeveless, chambray dress that brushed just above my knees. With small brown buttons all the way down the front, it was casual and comfortable, like all my clothes. Perfect walking dress for a lovely walking day. I pulled on my favorite gladiator sandals, grabbed my big bag, and headed downstairs and out the back door, only to stop dead in my tracks.

There, leaning against its newly polished kickstand, was my bicycle. Not only had it been affixed with a new back tire and front tire, but it was repainted to a bright, shiny red. And there were bright new reflectors on the spokes of the new wheels. I stepped up and ran a finger along the—yep—brand new basket. Okay. Now I officially forgave him, and we were even. But I still refused to glance toward the house of Mr. Ten Million Stars as I zipped onto the sidewalk and headed for the Asian market.

I couldn’t help but smile as I rode along. The temperature was perfect in the low seventies. People were walking their cute dogs, meeting friends for breakfast, and I was once again riding my wonderful bicycle, enjoying the breeze in my hair, which I’d left down today.

I pulled out my folded shopping bag from inside my giant handbag and wandered the produce section. I found some choice papayas. The mangoes looked a little underripe, though, so I only picked a few for later next week. My stomach rumbled as I perused the jackfruit, of all things. They were so ugly looking, but the fruity aroma reminded me that I’d skipped breakfast.

“If you’re looking for a ripe one, then take this one.” A large dark hand with long, well-manicured fingers reached in front of me and picked up one of the strange-looking fruit.

My breath caught in my throat as I twisted to face Devraj. I blinked a few times, not prepared for his dazzling smile this morning. It didn’t irritate me like it usually did. Rather, I couldn’t help notice the way his lips were so well-shaped and wondered how those lips and his canines had made a woman come without him touching any other part of her.