“I’ll call you as soon as I’m inside.” She rushed out, stepping into the night air. “Good night, Zahira.” She pulled the door closed behind her and drew in a deep breath. The cold air seeped into her system, refreshing her. She stood on Zahira’s porch for a few seconds, scanning the streets on both sides of her before heading in the direction of Conall’s house.
***
The ten minute walk turned into a twenty-five minute stroll.
She passed a group of what looked like young teenagers standing before a house, passing around a cigarette, and chattering happily. At another house was a group of older kids, who looked more like college students, lounging on the porch stairs. When she passed, the talking dimmed down, before advancing once more to loud whispers in which she heard her name, Samia’s name, and the words “blood rite.” She continued on, and was just about to turn the bend that would place her onto the block with Conall’s mansion-like house, when she noticed a lone man standing on the porch to the last house on Zahira’s block.
Despite the dark, she could make out a face that could be considered handsome, with rakish good looks. His hair was red, an auburn color that was brushed away from a square face. A pair of vivid green eyes stared back at her, and full lips curved upward in a smile. There was something familiar about him, but in her current mood, she dismissed it.
As Vivienne continued walking, she wondered if Conall was home. She stopped when the house came into view, searching the front for any sign of his Escalade. He also had two sleek, fast cars, a Benz convertible and an Audi that he usually kept for flashy functions, and a bike Eli coveted. A little smile curved her lips as she thought of that. While showing her the garage, Eli had been sure to ask her to put in a good word with Conall for the bike.
Vivienne was about to continue to the house when she felt as if she were being watched. Trusting her instincts, she spun, going on the defensive immediately as her power surfaced.
It was the man, the one she’d glimpsed standing on the porch. He was coming toward her, his gait confident, his stride long, but languid.
“Why are you following me?” she demanded, looking over his shoulder to find that the teenagers and college students were still out and about. He gave her an easy smile. It didn’t make her any less apprehensive. Here was the first man, outside of the men associated with Conall, to ever approach her during her weeks at Cedar Creek. Just because he was smiling didn’t mean he didn’t have ulterior motives.
“The better question is what’s a pretty lady like you walking these streets all by your lonesome?”
She heard an accent she couldn’t place, and gave him a quick once-over. Black leather clung to him like a second skin. His jacket, pants, boots, even his knuckle-bare gloves were the result of some poor animal’s hide.
When she didn’t answer, he chuckled, a deep easy sound, and said, “Name’s Rafael, but friends call me Rafe.”
“Why are you following me?” She might consider it rude on any other day, but he’d approached her today, and rude just happened to be in her vocabulary at the moment.
Rafael stopped a few feet from her, inhaling deep. His smile fell, before it came right back.
“You’re a witch,” he murmured as if in awe of the fact. Vivienne made no move to reply. She was a druid.
“Stop following me,” Vivienne said firmly, before turning on her boot-covered feet and walking briskly toward Conall’s house. She heard his pace pick up and moments later he was next to her, matching her stride for stride, quite easily.
She stopped a few houses away from Conall’s, gritted her teeth, and turned to glare at him. He grinned.
“What are you doing?”
“Escorting a pretty lady home,” he replied, as if that was the most natural thing in the world.
“I didn’t ask for an escort, so leave me alone.”
The smile widened, and she glimpsed slightly elongated canines.
“I wouldn’t be able to get a lick of sleep knowing I let a lady walk by herself when I coulda just walked her home.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Vivienne continued on. Whatever. If he wanted to escort her home, let him. She remembered Sloan giving her that warning, about staying at least ten feet away from every unattached male, but Mr. Chivalrous over here wasn’t taking a hint, and she wasn’t particularly in the caring mood tonight anyway.
When she arrived in front of Conall’s house, she barely spared him a glance as she turned to walk across the lawn to the front door. She was halfway across when he caught her, lifted her so she faced him, and set her back down. It happened so fast, Vivienne had just barely had the instinctive urge to blast him, when he lifted her hand, pressing the back of it to his firm lips. That startled her enough that she forgot her original intentions, and could only stare at Rafael in confusion as he released her hand and stepped away with a smile.