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  He wore a gray sweater and dark pants, conservative but attractive. He looked good. He looked nice. Too nice? I don’t know. My brain was racing a mile a minute and I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Was this wrong?

  Devraj popped into my mind. Those devastating, warm brown eyes filled with a resigned sadness when he left our family dinner on Sunday. My stomach suddenly hurt. Maybe I could still slip out the back door.

  Oh, hell. My date spotted me.

  He gave me a lopsided smile and headed in my direction. Confident gait. Okay, that’s good. Really good.

  “Isadora?”

  “That’s me.”

  He held out his hand for me to shake. “Terry. It’s great to meet you in person.”

  I shook his hand, which was warm and soft. Too soft? Well, for a bookish guy, that was totally normal. I mean, what did I expect? Large, long-fingered hands that looked and felt like they did more than hold books all day? Okay, maybe I did.

  Stop it right now!

  “Are you alright?” he asked nicely as he slid in the opposite side of the booth. “You said you’re a Conduit, right?”

  “Yeah. Oh, yeah. It’s all fine,” I assured him. He obviously thought his grim magic was affecting me, but I’d automatically pushed out my own magic to shift it away.

  Auras like Clara were completely unaffected by grims’ unique powers. Conduits like myself could be, but we could also shift their energy away so that it didn’t pull on our senses the way it did others.

  Belinda popped over. I’d made sure not to sit in Evie’s section because sisters could be too nosy. She might say or do something to make me nervous. Like now, she was staring at Terry like he was an insect under her microscope from two tables over where she was taking a drink order.

  “What can I get you guys?” asked Belinda, pretending not to know me like I’d asked her. I didn’t want my date to know how paranoid I was about dating a guy I’d met on an app.

  “Chardonnay for me,” I said.

  “I’ll take the same,” said Terry before Belinda flitted away. “So, Isadora, tell me all about yourself.”

  He folded his arms on the table, and I blinked. I hated statements like that. I mean, all about myself? That was a lot. If I summed it up, I’d sound so boring. So I went for a semi-shortened version. “Well, I live with my sisters and work at our metaphysical shop right next door actually. I spend a lot of time in my garden and greenhouse when not working.”

  “Really?” His dark eyes were nice, but they didn’t make my pulse trip faster the way Devraj’s did.

  Why was I thinking of him? I was on a date with another man. I had to stop comparing.

  “Interesting. What kinds of plants do you grow? Is it all for potions? What kinds of potions do you make? Do you write your own spells for customers?”

  Hello, Mr. Interrogation. I wanted to ask if he was collecting data because that seemed an innate need for grims. Then again, I guess it was his nature to gather all the info he could. So I told him about the plants I grew, the different bundles I made for the shop. This was no big state secret or anything. I explained the different items we sold as well and kept answering all of his questions until I had to hold up a finger to pause him so I could take my first sip of the glass of wine Belinda had dropped and I hadn’t touched.

  Before he could dive back in, I reversed the tables. “So, Terry. What about you? What do you do?”

  He stared at me a minute, taking a sip of his wine, then answered, “I teach philosophy.”

  “Oh, wow. That sounds cool. Where at? UNO? Loyola?”

  “Wherever I can.”

  Um, what?

  “So, are you a university instructor?”

  “Of sorts.” He let his smile widen. Okayyyy.

  “That’s like being sort of pregnant.”

  “Is it, though?”

  Oh, my God. This guy.

  “So you don’t want to talk about your job. Tell me about being a grim. I’ve never actually met one. What’s that like?”

  “It’s quite…nebulous.”

  I let out a little laugh. “That makes no sense.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  Now his cutesy smile was irritating. Was he playing games with me? Or was this really what he was like?

  “Well, tell me anything about yourself. Like anything. That wasn’t already in your profile.” Which was only two things.

  He must’ve heard the frustration in my voice, and yet his answer frustrated me even more.

  “I can tell you that I find you very beautiful.”

  Is this guy for real? How could I date someone who refused to tell me about himself? I enjoyed a good intellectual debate as much as the next woman, but I didn’t want to play mind games just to find out where the hell this dude earned his paycheck.

  It’s funny how some gorgeous guys can lose their attractiveness the more you saw their flaws. It’s also funny how some guys grow more attractive the more they showed you their humor, their intelligence, their sensitivity, and compassion. Like someone else I knew.

  “Well, tell me about what kinds of philosophy you teach.”

  His eyes widened with a spark of interest, and then finally he started talking. Unfortunately, the topic had my eyes glazing over. By the time he’d covered existentialism and Jean-Paul Sartre’s brilliant definition of this cultural movement, then moved onto relativism and realism, I’d finished my second glass of wine and was internally screaming to be released from captivity.

  “Excuse me,” he said, taking a sip of wine and setting it down. “I’m going to run to the restroom.”

  I was inwardly sighing with relief to get a break from the philosophy lesson. Then suddenly Terry’s seat was filled by the man I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  “So, how’s the date going?” asked Devraj with the most perfectly amused smile stretching across his handsome face.

  I whipped my head around to be sure Terry hadn’t seen, then faced the grinning vampire.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper-hissed.

  “I was just at the bar having a drink, talking to JJ, when I saw you over here. He told me you were on your first Zapp date,” he said casually, which eased my guilt a little from how he looked last Sunday. “So have you decided?” He propped his perfectly trimmed, bearded chin on his hand thoughtfully. “Are you an existentialist or a realist? I really need to know.”

  I clamped my jaw tight and narrowed my gaze. He chuckled to himself and grinned wider, continuing on. “As for myself, I’d like to hear more about Freud’s sexual theories.” He arched a salacious brow at me. “Is your super-ego hiding any dormant sexual fetishes that I should know about?”

  “Shut. Up.” I glanced at the restrooms again while he laughed at my expense then snapped my attention back to him. “For your information, he’s a very interesting guy.”

  “Very. If you like listening to dissertations.”

  “How could you hear from over at the bar?” I stared accusingly.

  “I’m good at lip-reading,” he answered with a shrug.

  “He’s telling me about his work,” I defended, trying not to smile at his obscene intrusiveness. “This is what people do when they date.”

  “Is it?” His expression morphed into confusion. “But I thought the point was to actually attract the person you’re dating.”

  “Stop being mean. And leave. Before he gets back.”

  “Don’t worry.” He sat back in the chair and gave me a wistful smile and a wink. “I won’t ruin your date.”

  He already had. Just by being here, he’d shown in glaring contrast the difference in my date and who I really wanted.

  I couldn’t do anything but glare at him as he stood and brushed his fingers along the curve of my neck exposed above my cardigan sweater. He gave me a friendly squeeze that I felt zing all the way to my toes.

  “Enjoy the rest of your date, Isadora,” he said sincerely and then marched for the door.

  A few seconds late
r, Terry took up his place. “So, where were we?”

  Then he launched into his thoughts on Friedrich Nietzsche, expounding on his views on traditional morality, and he truly lost me.

  It’s not that his thoughts weren’t interesting. To many women, he’d be reeling them in with his immense brain, but I was a simple girl. And I honestly didn’t want to debate whether a fallen tree really made a sound in the woods if no one was there to hear it. I’d rather discuss what kind of tree it was and if it held any medicinal properties that could be brewed into a healthful tea.

  The real problem wasn’t so much that Terry’s long-winded philosophical history was boring—but sorry, to me it was. The real issue was that my mind kept wandering to someone else. As I sat there, I compared Terry’s rather unremarkable voice to the sexy timbre of Devraj’s. Terry’s eyes, though intelligent and nice to look at, didn’t carry the same weight and heat of Devraj’s. Even his smile didn’t compare. Not to mention the fact that I’d checked out of this conversation at the third reference to Sigmund Freud’s Oedipus complex.

  I was bored. And annoyed. Perhaps even a little sad.

  Since Devraj had strolled up, I couldn’t think of anything else but him. It was all his fault!

  Okay, that was a lie. Terry and I just weren’t meshing, which is why when he asked if I wanted another round, I politely declined and told him I needed to get going. After Terry paid the bill, we walked out together.

  “That was lovely, Isadora,” he said politely, and I cringed inside when I realized he had enjoyed this far more than I had. “Should I call you again?” he asked with that hopeful look in his eyes.

  This was one main reason I hated dating. When I didn’t return the guy’s feelings, I hated rejecting them. But I wasn’t the kind of girl to lead a guy on either.

  Swallowing against the discomfort, I said, “I’m sorry, Terry. But I don’t think so.”

  “Ah.” He looked down with a tight smile, then offered his hand to shake. “It was a pleasure nonetheless.”

  “Thank you,” I said, giving his hand an apologetic squeeze then withdrawing. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not necessary. Take care.” Then he sauntered off toward his car.

  Devraj leaned back against the wall of the Cauldron, one knee propped up with his foot against the brick behind him, arms crossed. That’s when I noted he was wearing dark jeans and a black Henley, his hair in a man-bun, looking far too fine for words. Somehow, that irritated me more.

  His expression was one of concern as he watched Terry walk away. “Ouch,” he said, finally looking at me.

  “Why are you here?” I sauntered over.

  “Moral support?” He raised his brows innocently, his charming smile beaming.

  “No, you’re not. You were waiting for me.”

  Looking a little sheepish, he admitted, “I wanted to be sure you were safe. These guys aren’t always who they say they are on those dating apps.”

  “Same thing Violet told me.” I couldn’t actually be mad about that, but still.

  Blowing out a breath, which lifted a wisp of my long bangs, I said, “But you interfered. And you—” I bit my lip.

  “I what?” he asked, all innocence.

  Please.

  “You distracted me,” I admitted. But his aggravatingly knowing smile made me go on. “And I don’t like you butting in and acting like the protective big brother or whatever.”

  He opened his mouth to say something then stopped. He tilted his head, dropping his foot from the wall, and tucked his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “Were you enjoying his company?” he asked, expression serious. “Was this going to lead to a second date?”

  There’s no way in hell I’d be going out with Terry again. I had already been contemplating excuses to leave early when Devraj had shown up.

  I glanced up the street, heaving out a sigh, propping my hands on my hips. “That’s not the point.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His sincerity cooled me off. Some of the steam had blown out of me. “I don’t like you interfering.”

  His smile disappeared. He took a step toward me into my personal bubble, forcing me to tip up my chin. I didn’t back down, though. I wouldn’t let any vampire intimidate me. If that’s what he was doing. But the flash of heat in his eyes told me that might not be what was on his mind.

  “Maybe not,” he said in a low whisper, his voice silky smooth and sweet like a chocolate river. “But I care about you enough to make sure you’re safe. I’m sorry if I crossed a boundary.” He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers trailing along the shell. I barely repressed a tingly shiver. “Some of these guys make up their profiles to hide who they truly are. What they’re really like.”

  Swallowing hard against the emotion I saw in his deep brown eyes and heard in his unfairly hypnotic voice, I asked, “And you know this from experience? On your own dating profile?”

  His fingers had trapped a long strand of my hair, which he rubbed slowly between his thumb and middle finger. My gaze was drawn to that cuff bracelet, the one made of his mother’s mangalsutra.

  A little throb beat in my chest for this charismatic man who still loved his mother so much. I would say he was a contradiction, but that wasn’t really true. He was exactly who he showed to the world. A brilliant, charming, and stealthy vampire who lived life fiercely. Too fiercely perhaps. His light shone too brightly. It burned.

  He scoffed, his gaze on the lock of hair he toyed with between his fingers. “I don’t use dating apps.”

  “Only the blood host app, iBite.”

  His smile became that wide, all-knowing force that made me all melty inside. He’d caught me.

  “Now look who’s stalking. Have you been checking me out on iBite?”

  “Please.” I rolled my eyes. “Not stalking. Jules was on there, so I happened to check and see, you know, if you had a profile.”

  “Why was Jules on there?”

  “To check Ruben’s profile, of course.”

  Somehow, he took that in stride with a nod. Huh. I wondered what he knew about those two.

  He twirled a lock tighter around his index finger and tugged, drawing me an inch closer. “You read the forum reviews.”

  I shrugged a shoulder, giving him my I-don’t-care look.

  “I see.” His dark gaze roved down to my lips, coasted lower to my throat, then back up. “Have you ever thought of donating a little to team vampire?”

  “No,” I snapped.

  “Liar.”

  “Don’t call me a liar.”

  “Even if you are one?”

  “Okay, maybe I thought about it after that one time. You know.”

  He arched a black brow. “No, tell me. I don’t know.”

  His fiendish grin was unbearable. He was having so much fun taunting me, and for some dumbass reason, I was enjoying it, too. A stark contrast with the rest of my evening with Terry.

  “I think you can guess,” I added flippantly.

  “Okay. I’ll play,” he said, his hand drifting under my hair to wrap loosely around the base of my throat. “You enjoyed it when you nicked your tongue on my fang. You enjoyed it so much you’ve wondered what it would feel like if you went all the way.”

  I clenched my thighs tight at the phrase all the way because that conjured up our one-night stand. The most fantastic sexual experience of my life.

  He brushed his thumb along my pulse, heat pouring off him. “You’ve thought about it more than once. You want to know if what those women said about vampire toxin is true.”

  “Maybe,” I said, aggravated with his arrogance. And the fact that he was totally right. I pulled away till his arm dropped from me, refraining from groaning at the loss of his sensual touch. “Maybe I need to try a vampire next on Zapp and see for myself.” Then I turned and walked up Magazine Street toward home.

  That was a bitchy thing to say, I know. It was really unlike me. But Devraj needed to understand he didn’t have right
s over me. We weren’t in a relationship. We were friends. Who’d happened to have had mind-melting sex once. Twice, really. And that was that. I needed a man I could fall in love with. One who’d stay.

  Chapter 22

  ~DEVRAJ~

  * * *

  Damn. That woman was going to kill me. After cooling my head and biting back a string of curses in ten languages, I caught up to walk with her back to her house. I changed the subject to something lighter so I didn’t lose my shit over the thought of her entertaining some other vampire. Her letting another vampire touch her, bite her. The burning jealousy that image stirred in my gut was crippling.

  So I steered us onto something else. “You like dogs?”

  She glanced at me as we passed by Maybelle’s and through a laughing group of friends going somewhere. I placed a light hand on her back, and she let me, thankfully. So maybe she wasn’t that angry with me. Perhaps she was just giving me a little payback for ruining her evening with Terry the Witless Wonder. Maybe it was a dick move to butt in, but I had zero regrets. That idiot had no business with a woman like Isadora, who was so far out of his league.

  “How’d you know I like dogs?”

  “Your profile on Zapp.”

  “You read my profile?”

  “Of course, I did,” I answered shamelessly.

  My bold admission sent a flush of pink crawling up into her cheeks. I wanted her to know I was interested. I just couldn’t let her know how interested. How fascinated. That would terrify her.

  She hiked her bag on her shoulder again nervously as we turned the corner onto our street. “Yeah, I love dogs.”

  “Then why don’t you have one?”

  “Well, I do sort of—” She glanced at me, biting back what she was going to tell me for some reason. “It’s just that we have Z and Fred, and they’re enough right now. I’m not sure how a new pet would fit into the mix, you know? I mean, being a pet owner is a big responsibility. I wouldn’t want to bring him into the house if he wasn’t going to fit in well with the others.”