Page 41 of Blood and Hexes

Volunteer

Though Mikar's guard duty around Chloe ended at dawn,Sylvan, who knew how fond of parties he was, came to relieve him.

"I owe you." The beat of the music, the scent of the wine, had been getting to him.

The other slayer shook his head. "Don't sweat it, you've taken plenty of shifts for me."

That was true. Mikar had often offered to work for Sylvan or Ruby. Part of him was uneasy when he left Chloe to someone else's care. He liked Chloe, but more than that, he believed in her. Believed that their little world here in Oldcrest was a better place with her in it.

He rushed home to grab a Venetian mask, as everyone else had put one on, and returned as fast as he could.

Mikar made a beeline for the wine bar, glad to see Helsing had generously contributed with a couple of barrels of decent wine. He poured himself a generous glass, and turned to the pyre, where the crowd had started to dance.

He scanned the hundreds of people gathered near the unlit heap of wood.

The birthday girl was in Levi's arms. Blair, hands in the air, eyes closed, swayed with the drums, her dark hair—streaked purple, at the moment—flowing behind her. She was more sensual than Mikar would have thought possible. Until now, he'd always seen the witch as a fighter, more than anything else. Tonight, she felt like a witch, giving her energy to whatever gods she celebrated. Greer and Gwen danced together in circles, turning more than a few heads. All dressed in white, the witches and wizards had lost some of their civilized demeanor as they embraced their magic without shame.

Mikar didn't spare anyone more than a glance, searching for one pair of dark eyes, in vain. Which meant that Diana wasn't here. He would have found her immediately if she had been, given how addicted he was to her scent.

He felt her the moment she arrived. She too had donned the color of death, as everyone used to do on Samhain in the old days, and she wore a metal eye mask ending in curved horns. No mask would have stopped him from recognizing her fragrance, her eyes, her delectable mouth.

He watchedDiana search the crowd for familiar faces. There were three to four hundred students and staff in the Institute, perhaps another hundred Adairford residents, and the few who lived on the hill. He realized that Diana knew less than two dozen people here. She spotted her brother and Avani first, her gaze stopping in their direction, but soon, she grimaced, opting against joining them. No wonder: the couple were practically dry humping each other on one of her benches.

Mikar saw her step toward Blair. Before she'd made it too far, a streak of lightning zapped the ground at Blair's feet, and a smirking man materialized right in front of her. Blair's eyes fluttered open, then she gaped. Before she had time to formulate a word, Seth Stormhale clasped one of her hands and wrapped his free arm around her waist, before leading her into a village reel.Surprisingly, Blair let him.

Mikar circled the pyre, stopping only to pour himself another glass of wine, eyes never leaving Diana. He watched her join Gwen and Greer, taking their hands and following their dance intuitively. Part of him wanted to go to her, with all the shameless confidence of a Stormhale, but another part said his place was here, from a distance, where he could best watch her. Protect her.

Only, Diana was the strongest woman here, or close to it. She didn’t need protecting. And suddenly he was tired—so very tired—of denying himself some proximity to her. His intention to let her come to him hadn’t worked out for almost two months. Time to try something else.

He crossed to the other side of the pyre. The moment he reached her, she let go of the witches' hands, breaking their circle, and twirled on her tiptoes to face him.

Her expression was all defiance, daring. "What?" she challenged, glaring, as though she expected a battle of wits.

He supposed that was fair. They never talked without breaking into an argument.

Talking was overrated.

He wanted to encircle her waist, letting his hands take in the heat of her curves. He knew better.

Mikar lifted his palms between them, leaving them parallel to her, in an open invitation. She could snort and go away. Or she could finally, finally give in.

He watched in wonder as her hands rose to eye level, her soft fingers resting right against his, so lightly they almost weren’t touching.

She’d said yes. He was too stunned to do anything but stare in wonder. Then he broke into a grin. And he danced.

He danced with her like he would have back when she'd been mortal, so many years ago, had she not been too frail to attend any ball, keeping her at a distance, and yet so close. His feet could easily remember the old folks’ way, and so did hers. Soon, they were both laughing, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As though they should have smiled to each other all along. Her entire face beamed, making her seem more striking than ever. So much so, she was almost painful to look at.

He could have danced with her until the end of time, if the world had let them.

After darkness fell, Chloe called Diana to help light the pyre.

Mikar had never disliked Chloe quite so much. He reluctantly stepped away from Diana, feeling cold the moment the spell between them broke.

It had been a while since he'd felt cold. Not since his last night as a mortal, probably. But the knowledge that he'd be close to her again very soon was enough to temporarily soothe him.

He'd claim her hand later. He had to. He was done with the distance, done with the silly notion that he should wait on her. Mikar realized his decision to let her come to him had been inherently flawed. Yes, she was a strong, powerful creature, used to running the show. Yes, she was a modern woman in boots, who mostly wore jeans and had adapted to all forms of technology.

But somewhere inside, she also was that girl from the twelfth century, who wouldn't have dreamed of approaching a man. If he wanted her—and by all the gods, he did—he couldn't just flirt. He couldn't even tease.

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