I hadn’t come here for that, but now…I let my attention roam over her body. She’s wearing a short, tight dress that shows off her titsandher spectacular legs. Her hair is wild and tangled, begging for my fist. If nothing else, I could have her on her knees before me, blowing me until I forget the worst of my problems.
Needy little fucking witch.
“Probably,” I admit. “But first, I need to go to the human realm. Care to join?”
“Fine,” she says, huffing out a sigh. She snags a leather jacket from behind her door. “But we’re hooking up later. I’ve got some frustration to work out too, you know.”
I don’t respond, and I ignore Beatrice’s attempts at conversation as we cross the Night Realm into neutral territory. By the time we arrive at the Paragon, she’s fallen silent. She walks with her arms crossed and her eyebrows slanted, shooting me occasional pissed-off glances.
“Why did you ask me to come if you’re going to ignore me?” she asks. She leads the way up the stairwell, shoving through the final door and striding out of the Echo without a moment’s hesitation.
I’m a second behind her, blinking away the headrush that comes with jumping worlds. I let my eyes adjust to thebrighter lights of Aberlena University before hurrying to match Beatrice’s brisk pace.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“What exactly are we doing here, anyway?” she asks. Arms still crossed, scowl still in place.
Beatrice was supposed to get Grace off my mind. Instead, I’ve gottwopissed women now.
“The witch has needs,” I say finally.
“Like…?” Beatrice trails off before her eyes finally widen. “Oh, like her menstruation! I forgot witches do that.”
“Hells, no,” I say, though thatdoesraise a good point. I’ll need to see what Cora can do about stopping that. The last thing I need is her bleeding and a young vampire losing his head. Glancing at Beatrice, I admit, “She wants tomato soup.”
Beatrice stops so abruptly I nearly crash into her. She glares at me, mouth open in horror, but I don’t stop. I swivel around her and jog down the main steps of Aberlena. The sun is high overhead, and it instantly drains me of…everything. I feel weak and slow and vulnerable.
Beside me, Beatrice pulls on her coat. I didn’t think to bring one.
“You didnotbring me to come grocery shopping with you,” she says. She holds my pace, craning her neck to look at me. She’s much shorter than Grace, even with her heeled boots.
“I did not,” I affirm. “I brought you to go grocery shopping alone. I have other agenda items while we’re here.”
“Then letmedo the cool shit,” Beatrice snaps. “Just because I’m a woman, doesn’t mean I want to go grocery shopping for your new sex toy.”
“Watch yourself,” I say. I grab her arm, pulling her to astop. We’re near the park where Grace attempted to kill me. “Donotforget your place.”
“Yes, Master,” she says. Her chest is heaving, lips twitching, holding back a snarl.
We walk in silence until we reach a grocery store. There, I dig a folded piece of paper from my pocket. It’s a list of ingredients for fucking soup. Tomatoes. Heavy cream. Three types of cheese.
I hand it to Beatrice, along with a few human monies, holding my breath as she takes it. Thankfully, she doesn’t say another word. She clenches the notes in her fist, gives me a stiff nod, and marches into the store. I go into the neighboring building, some shop that’s supposedly having aBIG SALE!on televisions and computers. I grumble under my breath, remind myself of the big picture, and head inside.
When we get back to the Echo, Beatrice leaves me with her grocery bags and another nod. Apparently, somewhere between expecting shopping and discussing Grace, sex fell off the agenda. Part of me wants to push it—I reallycoulduse a quick fuck—but I don’t.
I take the bags to the servant kitchens and hope this makes the difference between Grace being useless and the key to our salvation.
When I arriveat Cora’s room, she opens the door before I can knock. She and Grace share bleak expressions, and neither one looks at the other.
“She’s hopeless,” Cora informs me. She crosses her arms over her chest, lips twisting. “I’ve never met such a useless caster.”
Grace doesn’t say anything, but she releases a heavy sigh. Blush swims over her cheeks, sending a rush of blood-scented perfume through the air. I clench my breath in my lungs.
“You should do something about her blood,” I tell Cora, ignoring her statement. “She’s fucking dangerous like that.”
Grace raises her eyebrow.
“Witches smell rancid to vampires,” Cora elaborates. She glances briefly at Grace before returning her glower to me. “And I can’t change her blood now. She’s too old. It has to be done to infants or embryos.”
