Free The Better to Eat You With: The Red Journals by Cara Villar Page B

I’d instantly accosted him and bombarded him with questions,
partially bedazzled by his pretty eyes, chiseled features and the breadth of
his cling-to-me-while-you-scream shoulders.
    Ahem. Focus, Red!
    I’d
demanded answers quite forcefully; to which all he did was laugh and hold up
his hands in surrender and say, “I’ll know when Vince gets here,” then waltzed
out the door. I could only watch in open-mouthed shock and dismay.
    Whoever
this Vince fellow was, his shoddy, unpunctual, and downright inconvenient
no-showing, was starting to drive me nuts. And crazy people, as we all know,
crack when confined. That's why they need the special jacket.
    Cue
hysterical giggle.
    Suddenly,
the soft boom of a door slamming jerked my head around. Moving quietly to the
library doors, I sneaked a peak down the hall leading to the marble foyer and
the grand stairs. Flaring my nostrils, I inhaled deeply, narrowing my gaze to
cut through the evening shadows of the hall and see past them.
    Ice
and coffee. Anise. Felix.
    Exhaling
a shuddering breath, feeling my entire body light up from every tiny cell and
spreading outwards—the general reaction to this particular bloodsucker, I’d discovered—I
slipped silently from the library and into the shadowed corridor just as
the aforementioned bloodsucker came waltzing out of the alcove near the
kitchen that led   to the garage. And,  God , men shouldn’t be so
striking.
    His dark
hair stuck out in wild disarray, windblown and yummy, beckoning for a touch. My
fingers curled into a fist to keep from shoving them through his thick locks to
grip tightly, yanking his mouth down to mine, or pulling his head back to bare
the smooth column of his neck to my hungry lips. 
     Losing
focus again, Red! Cough.
    His dark,
slashing brows were furrowed, his lashes cast down with his gaze to the floor,
as if deep in thought. His lips were drawn into a grim line, pulling the skin
tight over his high, chiseled cheekbones, making the handsome plains of his
face look harsh and severe.
    Still
made-me-stupid hawt, though.
    He
bounced his keys absently in his right hand as he strode across the foyer, the
ornate lighting above rebounding off the embossed keys. He took the stairs up
to the next floor two at a time, not even noticing me in the shadows.
    My
nerve-endings came alive with the possibilities of getting free like a fuse set
to firecrackers, my mind fixating on one thing for long minutes after Felix had
disappeared upstairs.
    Keys.
    From my
extensive observations, (cough, stalking, cough) I knew that Felix would head
straight up to his room and shower before meeting with Osiris is his study. I’d
noticed that, and don’t judge me for this, but the longer he spends outside the
house, the longer he spends inside the shower when he returns. I knew this only
because I had sat outside his room and waited for him several times the last
few days. Unfortunately, Porcia always dragged me to my feet and hauled me off. For someone
who keeps going on about how much Felix would like this, that and the other,
I’ve very rarely been given an opportunity to show him.
    Damn Vampires.
This time though... this time I only let her because I was lulled by the sound
of running water and the soft whisper of splashing…
    Felix…
Naked… Wet… Bad Kitty.
    As
casually as I could, concentrating mainly on keeping my heart steady as I
wonder up the stairs, passed smiling, laughing meals-on-wheels, following
followed Felix’s scent. Something I could probably have done in my sleep. The
hall was empty as I approached his door, and my keen hearing picked out the
distinct sound of the shower running. Glancing around, cocking an ear to listen
to ensure no one else neared, I shifted over to stroll right by, smoothly
clasped my fingers around the handle, bent it and silently slipped into
his room.
     Soundlessly
pressing my back to the closed door, I sucked in a sharp breath. The rich,
spicy aroma filling the room was heady and