Page 40 of The Guardian's Curse

“As you so often do,” Dominic said.

“I’ll go check on him,” Paris said, approaching the door. When he touched the handle, he lurched back with a hiss. His once-smooth cheek was marred by a blistered red burn. “The fuck?”

“You wanted the house secured!” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “It was in my contract!”

Clearly unconcerned with Paris, Dominic gave her an appreciative look. “That’s quite impressive.”

Pressing his hand to his cheek, Paris let out an explosive diatribe of filthy curses in French. His forced smile looked like a shark’s grin. “Take it down so I can go inside.”

Heart pounding, she touched the doorway. “Tout va bien,” she murmured, reaching out to pluck a tendril of magic free. Like untying a knot, the whole sigil loosened at her command. The bright light faded, and Paris took a step inside.

“Are there any other nasty little surprises I should know about?”

“No,” she said quietly.

He sighed. “You stay here with Dominic. I’ll deal with him.”

“I should help,” she said. “This is my fault.”

“No, this is Paris’s fault,” Dominic interrupted. “Let him clean up his own mess.”

Inside, there was a chorus of angry shouts in German, then a crash of breaking glass. This was utterly absurd, and yet it made perfect sense. She’d never heard of a vampire that couldn’t handle normal light. Then again, she’d never heard of a vampire that had been cursed to be...well, what he was. She didn’t know whether she was frightened, angry, sad, or maybe all of them. And just the tiniest bit guilty. Because the Alistair in her mind was breathtakingly beautiful, with graceful hands and a voice like a cello given words. The desperate desire she’d felt for him was now tinged in fear and regret that he was not what she dreamed.

Dominic grasped her wrist lightly. “Let’s go inside. If this takes more than a few hours, we’re going to be stuck here.”

She headed back to the car to retrieve Magneto, who was curled up on the floorboard. He let out a pitiful mrow when she picked him up. “I know, buddy,” she said. “I’m sorry. You can have extra treats tomorrow, okay?”

Holding him close to her chest, she returned to the house and tiptoed over the threshold. Bloody footprints formed a winding trail toward the basement. After closing the door tightly behind her, she released Magneto. There was a shout of pain from downstairs that sent the cat running.

“You staked him?” Dominic said. “Paris just pulled a couple of splinters out.”

She shook her head. “I used my fire spell. I left the gun in my room and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Then how did he get staked?”

“He was already torn up from something when he came in the door,” Shoshanna said. “I couldn’t tell what it was.”

His brows lifted in a question. “When he came in the door?”

Her jaw dropped. Not only had she burned a hole right through him, she’d ratted him out. “Yes?”

“Interesting.”

She busied herself in the kitchen. “Do you need a snack or something?”

“I ate. Paris will surely eat if you warm it up,” he said. “But Alistair will certainly need to feed tonight. Live would be better, but a bag will do.”

As she began preparing the double boiler to heat the blood, fear stitched through her with a twinkle of lust on its tail. Even knowing what he looked like, her body hummed to life at the thought of him feeding on her. “Are you suggesting...”

“Not you,” he said. “Considering you hurt him, he might tear your throat out by accident.”

“I didn’t mean to!” she exclaimed.

He put up his hands. “I understand. Your instincts were good. But a wounded vampire is somewhat beyond logic.”

“Is he going to hate me now?”

Dominic was quiet for a long stretch. “He won’t hate you, but he’ll probably be an asshole about it for a while.” For once, the expression on his face wasn’t a pronounced frown. It was the warmest he’d ever been around her. “It isn’t your fault, but Alistair is sensitive. Before the curse, he was a pretty boy. Though I care for him as a brother, I have no qualms saying that he was an arrogant prick back then. Since the curse, he hates no one as much as himself. I would stake my life that he’s humiliated that you saw him, not angry. I’m much more interested in why he was out of the house and how he got staked.”

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