Page 8 of Vampire's Breath

I lowered the glass just slightly so that when I drew in my next long breath through my partially open lips, the air mingledwith the sharpness of the sparkling Shiraz. I blinked once, a slow and deliberate act, coercing my mind out of its lustful yearning and back into that of the shopkeeper before I forced my voice to steady, lowering my glass. “What can I help you with?” I knew what he could help me with.

He shrank down again at my words, and his eyes darted to those around us before they finally settled on me. “I’m here for some old man saltbush, both dried leaves and a plant, if possible.”

I dropped my chin. It was a rather strange request. “Old man saltbush? I don’t have the plant, but I can order it. I can check for the leaves.”

“That would be fine.”

“And what exactly do you plan to use that for?”

His eyebrow arched. “Is that something you need to know to fulfill my order?”

I ran my eyes from his head to his toes again, trying to figure this man out. From how he spoke and the aura about him, he should have embraced a much more commanding presence, and he didn’t carry the traditional bohemian vibe of those usually interested in that plant. He bristled at every noise around him, as though just being here was a chore. I tightened my mouth. “Let’s just say you’re not the type we typically sell those to.”

He chuckled, the sound more nervous than carefree. “And what’s the ‘type’ you normally sell them to?”

“Usually, our buyers have a more spiritual quality about them. And most opt for something a little less dangerous.”

Folding his arms across his chest, he smirked. “And how do you know that isn’t me in disguise?”

My mouth twitched at his smirk. I couldn’t deny I wanted to see that again. What was he hiding under the charade of nervousness? I bit my lip. There was only one way to find out. “Touché. I’m Briar. Why don’t you come in, and I can get thatorder?” I gestured to the door just past the folk singer sitting on a stool, strumming her guitar. “That’s my office right behind her.”

He followed me, close enough to feel his presence, a soothing heat that made my heart flutter, as we covered the short span between the firepit and the office.

“It is a lovely evening for a party, isn’t it?” He sounded as though he feared an awkward silence more than he feared speaking, his moment of confidence washed away.

I looked over my shoulder at him and shrugged, raising my voice to be heard over the singer’s amplifier. “This is all Amy. She put this whole thing together. I prefer more intimate gatherings. Please come in.”

I opened the door and flipped on the light. The ceiling fan also came on, pushing the air around the small space and chasing away any stuffiness. I took a deep breath, bathing in the warm, golden glow that appeared to flash as the fan spun. “So Mr.—?”

“Lorcan,” he answered, his gaze slowly traversing the room. “Lorcan O’Cillian.”

I nodded to the chairs in front of my desk for him to sit. The name caught me off guard. It was familiar, like it was something I should know, but I couldn’t remember why. I pushed it to the back of my mind. “Well, Lorcan, I assume you know how to use old man saltbush safely? Even a little too much can irreparably damage a person’s kidneys.”

He nodded, giving me a small, reassuring smile that made my stomach do a quick flip. “I promise. I’ve been using it for years. The plant’s ability to purify blood is unsurpassed.”

Maybe he was just using it for the health benefits. “All right, then. Let me see what we have for you. As for the plant, how large of one are you looking for?”

His gaze shifted to the corner, lingering on objects as though he was committing them to memory or assessing them for ahidden meaning. I smiled to myself, wondering what meaning he found in the antique mortar and pestle and a skull tucked behind the vines of a wisteria plant. For someone so composed, he looked cautious, as if he were both drawn in and wary. He turned his gaze toward me, his eyes glowing with mischief. “How large do you think you can manage?”

My heart skipped a beat. Was he flirting with me?

“Well, usually the larger the better.”

His gaze lingered, playful and unapologetic. “Yes, well…” He cleared his throat. “Will the size of the roots affect how long it needs to acclimate, or is it only the trunk? And how long will it take?”

I walked around my desk, sat down, opened the drawer to my left, and retrieved my laptop that I had hidden away. “Usually about one year.” I found a space and turned it on. “I think eight inches should be large enough.” Heat rose to my cheeks. “I mean, twenty centimeters. I think you would like a plant that is twenty centimeters.” I closed my eyes and exhaled, my embarrassment sharp and complete.

“Are you sure it shouldn’t be bigger?” He idled a finger across the front of the desk, his voice low, that smirk back on his lips. Without giving me a chance to respond, he pulled his hand back and shifted in his chair. “I’ll take your recommendation. I presume that should give me a sufficient harvest by the time it is acclimated?”

And just like that, we returned to normal. Had I imagined the entire exchange?

I tilted my chin, watching him. There was a careful precision to him. Without other people around, he carried himself with an ease that felt rehearsed, like a man who had long ago mastered the art of appearing comfortable in places he’d rather not be, every action deliberate and calculated. Beneath his guarded demeanor, I could sense something else—an effortlessconfidence that belonged to someone who had lived through far more than he let on.

“Will you be able to supply me with enough loose leaf until I can harvest my own?” His deep voice was steady, making my insides thrum, and I had to focus on what he’d asked me instead of wondering what it would sound like in bed after I told him exactly how to take me.

He flinched as muffled laughter exploded through the closed door, shattering the quiet between us.

“I’m sorry for the noise,” I said. “Sometimes I wish I could hide away in here, even when the only people here are my friends. I love groups of people, but they can be so exhausting.”

---