Free Witch Upon a Star (A Midnight Magic Mystery) by Jennifer Harlow

neck be more … intimate?”
    His face twitched as if electrocuted. “I suppose you are correct. Very well.”
    Inside I was grinning from cheek to cheek, but outwardly I remained as neutral as Switzerland. I’d offered my blood dozens of times when his supply ran low, but he always refused. Wouldn’t hear of it. He once went two days without when a snowstorm quarantined us. He fed from Clifton then. Not that night though. That night he was mine. All mine.
    I swept my hair aside. Ralph had called my neck “swanlike.” Pale, graceful, beautiful. Now Asher was finally claiming it. Me. The man I loved was centimeters from me. We’d been closer, I practically glued myself against him any chance I had, but never like this. My body was alive, in flux, all my cells breathing in the sensation of true lust. Anticipation. Love. I knew how much this act was costing him. How my nymphet routine had eroded his resolve not to cross that last, beguiling border he’d erected to protect me even though I didn’t want that protection. This act, him tasting me, me nourishing him with my lifeforce, him invading my body and taking what he needed could very well crumble him, my noble love. Finally.
    I met his eyes, his piercing blue eyes so filled with trepidation, and desired so badly to touch his face, caress the negativity away, but knew it’d make things worse. “This will not hurt.”
    “I trust you,” I whispered.
    As I stared into those turquoise pools, the pleasant prickle of magic trickled through me like gentle, warm rain. My neck tilted and eyes closed on their own, letting the pleasure overtake me, that I barely registered those fangs puncturing the flesh of my neck. My body jolted but my mind was too busy twirling in the rain in time to his lips and tongue caressing the flowing blood. Then those caresses ceased, as did the magic of the moment. When my eyes opened, Asher had already taken a giant step backward and was wiping my blood from his lips with a handkerchief as if it were poison. He wouldn’t look at me, couldn’t hide the disgusted scowl. Did I taste bad? Was my blood tainted somehow? I touched my neck where those two punctures still oozed blood. “What—”
    “Go clean yourself up,” Asher ordered. He gazed up, eyes now black as midnight, and bared his red fangs. “ Now .”
    Four years. I’d lived four years with that man, and for the first time ever, he frightened me. Truly terrified me. “O-okay.”
    I dashed to the bathroom, even locking the door behind me. I stared at myself in the mirror, breath ragged. It was easy to forget what he really was. A hunter. A predator. He subverted that side of himself around me. To protect me. I’d roused that beast, and though for the most part I was unnerved, a part of me was singing out in victory. One more hurdle vaulted, one more barrier down in my pursuit. And though his soul may be black, it would be mine. It was only fair. I gave him mine the moment we met.
    _____
    The cab ride was a somber affair without a glance or word exchanged. When we finally pulled up to our host’s townhouse in Kensington, the car was chillier inside than out. For the first time since the feeding, Asher touched me, giving me his hand to help me from the cab. He didn’t release it when the act was complete, instead wrapping his fingers in mine. I gazed up with a grin but found apathy in return. That stone stare remained affixed as we walked up to the house. Judging from the loud music and laughter the party was in full swing inside the Georgian three-story townhouse. Asher rang the bell, and before his hand lowered, the door opened. A young man in black and white livery, perhaps a few years older than me, stood sentry.
    “Asher and guest,” my date said.
    “You may enter.”
    We’d reached the official point of no return. There should have been a sign with, “Abandon hope all ye who enter here.” I still would have walked right in and shook the hand of the Devil himself with a