And why not? Stranger things had happened in this town.
Destiny grinned. “I know just the dress.”
CHAPTERFOUR
“A vampire isthe only thing that could have done it.” Pete sank a fork into the slice of cake Destiny had left on the counter for him. The strawberry sauce, not overly sweet, complemented the light, spongy texture perfectly. It had also complemented the buttery yellow color of her dress.
His stomach tightened as an image of the heavenly woman flashed in his mind. She was beautiful beyond comparison. Anyone would attest to that, but there was so much more to her. A connection on a level deeper than he ever thought possible. He had felt it the moment their eyes met.
And how did she know angel food cake was his favorite?
“I suppose a newly undead might turn to poultry blood without proper guidance.” Gaston’s voice drew him from his thoughts. “But it’s a rare vampire who can cross into that realm. Are you certain there isn’t a species of fae who might do such a thing? Anelfenchupacabra, perhaps?” He scooped a spoonful of his dessert into his mouth and closed his eyes for a long blink. “Or someone makingsanguinaccio dolce, perhaps?”
“No fae would kill six chickens to make pudding.” Pete took another bite of cake, savoring the melding of flavors on his tongue.
Gaston laced his fingers and rested his hands on the table. “You have too much faith in people. Even the fae can go rogue.”
“I suppose that’s true, though I can’t fathom it. But you’re right about vampires not being able to cross into our realm. A fae would have to invite them over, and that’s even more unfathomable.” He laughed as he used his last bite to soak up as much sauce from the plate as possible. “Says the man who’s about to invite the Magistrate’s right-hand vamp to cross over.”
“Perhaps the culprit didn’t need an invitation,” Gaston said.
“Only a person with fae blood can cross into Eostre’s realm uninvited. I don’t know any fae vampires.”
“I do.”
Pete scratched his head, a fog forming in his brain as he took the last bite of angel food cake. Why were they talking about vampires? And what did vamps have to do with the fae? He blinked rapidly and stared at the plate in front of him. The remnants of a pinkish-red sauce were smeared across the pastel blue surface, reminding him of…something.
He flicked his gaze to the man sitting across from him. His aura screamed powerful vampire, sending his heart into a sprint. Why the hell was he having dessert with a vampire?
And since when did vampires eat food?
His knee bounced of its own volition, so he pressed his palm on his thigh to stop it. How did he get here? Where was he? More importantly…
Whowas he?
“Are you not going to ask who I mean?” The vampire smirked. “It’s a ratherjollystory.”
“Who?” he muttered, though he wasn’t inquiring about the story. He could not, for the life of him, remember his own name.
“Santa Claus himself,” the vampire said. “My dear friend Jane ran him over with my beloved Maserati, Genevieve. She had no choice but to turn him.”
“I don’t…” He rubbed his forehead. Santa Claus was a vampire? How was that relevant to their conversation…whatever it was they were talking about?
“Pete?” the vampire said, and he snapped his gaze to meet his ice-blue eyes. “Peter, are you okay?” Concern carved lines into the man’s forehead.
“Peter…” he mumbled. Apparently, that was his name. “I’m fine.”
Yes, that was a lie. His heart thumped so fast, it threatened to crack his rib cage, and his left foot tapped repeatedly, his rabbit instinct begging him to shift and hop out of there. He was about to do just that when an ethereal woman stepped through the kitchen door.
Her copper hair shimmered as she moved, and she wore a knee-length dress with pastel stripes that reminded him of… He couldn’t remember what it reminded him of, but it sure as sugar felt right.
Another woman entered behind her, this one a brunette vampire carrying three pastry boxes. He glanced at her before locking his gaze on the angel’s sky-blue eyes. They brightened when she smiled, tempering the panic that threatened to take over his entire being.
“Holy goat cheese pizza,” the brunette said. “Gaston, tell me you didn’t feed that cake to the Easter Bunny.”
What an odd thing to say. The angel’s eyes widened as she flicked her gaze to the empty plate in front of him. She snapped her head toward the counter and then back at his plate before snatching it off the table.
“Oh, no. No, no, no. Pete, did you eat the angel food cake?”
