After returning to the alleyway of the blood pub, Gwyneira’s brother-in-law had revealed that the woman found outside was actually a dhampir, one who had yet to fully turn. Nobody had noticed the sharp points of her ears tucked beneath her thick, wavy auburn hair matted with all the blood that pooled from the back of her head.

From a distance and a certain angle, Gwyneira understood how one would mistake the murdered vampire as her. It helped matters none how vampire witnesses had spotted her inside the pub only moments before the murder occurred. 

Emrys glued himself to her hip, yet another cold and dark presence loomed behind her like a shadow. Honestly, Gwyneira couldn’t believe he hadn’t shifted into a bat and soared far away from the crime scene.  Perhaps he thought she’d run begging him to take her troublesome client off her hands.  Or maybe he genuinely cared about her almost dying.

Such a thought nearly made her laugh out loud. Bloodworth could care less about anyone but himself.  

“Tell me again why you were out here tonight, Gwyn.” Percy’s piercing glare sent a dagger straight through her heart, and she regretted not filling him in on her plans.  His gaze dropped to her wrist with a soft growl, but he said nothing but the bite mark.  

She was grateful that he remained professional and awaited the lecture she’d receive later from him about letting vampires bite her so willingly.  Especially those who were clients and potential murder suspects.  Percy always cared for her like the brother she’d never had.  

Sometimes it annoyed her because she was used to being the worrier of the family, but she appreciated his concern for her and always watching her back.  

“Are you all right, Ms. Grimheart?” The sound of her last name rolling off Bloodworth’s tongue surprised her.  His softened expression only made her more weary, and she found herself taking a step back from his tall, imposing figure.  “It can be gruesome to see a dead body.”

“Not like it’s her first dead body,” Emrys muttered under his breath.  

“Yes, I’m fine, Mr. Bloodworth.” Gwyneira straightened her posture, donning her most professional stoic look as possible to keep those gleaming blood red eyes from reading her like an open book.  She would not let him see how this case was rattling her.  She would not back down.

Mr. Bloodworth nodded.  “I just wanted to make sure.”

“She’s not a child you need to watch over.  Ms. Grimheart is perfectly capable of being here around dead bodies, and defending my sorry arse.  That's why I hired her.” Emrys bristled beside Gwyneria, and her eyes widened at the warmth of magical flames that licked up his arms and crept around his neck.  “I would appreciate it if you would stop belittling her abilities for simply being a witch. Or is it women in general you look sorely down upon?”

“How dare you.” Bloodworth’s eyes smoldered with rage, but it paled in comparison to the magic flames that swept around her and Emrys.  “I hold Ms. Grimheart in the highest regard and I have no qualms about her talent and wit.”

“Then let her do her damn job,” Emrys hissed.  

Their little altercation had garnered the attention of the bat cops and forensic team, who watched with equal curiosity and concern.  Gwyneira met her brother-in-law’s gaze with a forced half smile to assure him she was okay, but the look he gave her did nothing to quell the anxiety festering in the pit of her chest.

From the very beginning, Gwyneira knew it would be hell to take Emrys on as her client.  She just never realized how bad things would truly get until now.

                                                                                             ❤️‍🔥

Gwyneira returned to her office defeated and bone-tired with Emrys trailing along behind her like a sad puppy with its tail tucked between its legs.  Nothing productive had come from their visit to the Bat and Blood, which royally sucked.  She had hoped to gain inside information about qualms the vampire mafia members might’ve had amongst each other, hoping to find a crack that divided them.

Gwyneira pulled out her swivel chair and sat down to remove her leather, steel-toed boots.  She sighed in relief to have removed them, only dreaming of the comforts of snuggling up in her bed in a fresh pair of jammies after a nice, hot shower.  

“So, fire magic, huh?” Gwyneira broke the silence that had fallen between them.  

“Yeah.” Emrys remained standing with his hands casually tucked in his pockets.  “I’m sorry about that, back at the pub.”

“You’re sorry about the dead vampire?” Gwyneira raised a brow.  

“Not that.  Well, I mean I am sorry she died, of course.  I’m not a monster who doesn’t care.” Emrys raked a hand through his pretty midnight hair, and the frustration only mounted as he groaned.  “I’m just sorry for… everything.  My messy involvement with Iron Fang and his crew, then my stupid brother.  I should have been upfront about all this.  I don’t know why I wasn't.  I guess I thought you’d be like everyone else and not believe me.  Hells, I’ve even reached a point where I’m considering I started sleepwalking and devoured the poor vamp’s heart like some cannibal.”

The last thing Gwyneira needed was for Emrys to spiral.  Given everything that had happened to him since waking up to Iron Fang dead outside his coffin, she couldn’t blame the poor vamp.  Nobody believed him.  None but her, of course.  She knew he was shady and withheld more than he ever should about his case and connections to the victim.

She couldn’t have him questioning his own innocence now.  That would most certainly earn him a sentence to Sanguine City’s prison, and she couldn’t bear to imagine someone like him struggling to fend for himself amongst those ruthless, vindictive witches and wizards. She already knew they would kill him by morning there.  Regardless of a judge’s leniency, it would be a death sentence for him.

“It's been a long night, and we could both use some rest.  I know you didn’t kill those vampires, Emrys.  I was literally with you when the second victim was killed, as was your brother, Lionel.” Gwyneira combed her fingers through her hair, untangling small knots caused by the blustering wind.  “But any attorney would argue subornation of perjury if we tried to testify on your behalf.  In my case, they’d probably claim I was influenced by your venom.”

Emrys frowned. “That’s absurd.” 

“Percy and Bloodworth saw my wrist.” Gwyneira raised her arm to show off the two angry bite marks he’d left on her skin. “I wouldn’t be surprised if other bat cops noticed it too.”

“I only took a smidgen of your blood. Nothing that could influence you. Hells, I don’t even know how to use blood manipulation.” Emrys’ eyes darkened. “And Lionel sure as shit wouldn’t lie for me. You heard that from him yourself.”

“Yes, I know.” Gwyneira dropped her hand down into her lap, massaging the sore pinpricks as she sighed. “We’ll figure something out, okay? Tomorrow, I’m going to give Percy a call on my crystal ball and see if he’ll let us sit in while they bring the latest 

victim’s spirit back to speak with.”

“They’re going to summon her ghost?” Emrys asked. 

“They’ll try to. Necromancy magic is very finicky. Not all dead victims can return to earth,” Gwyneira explained. 

“Necromancy magic always creeped me out.” Emrys moseyed over to her desk and reclined against the side, his gaze dipped down with a frown. “How’s your wrist? Does it hurt? You keep rubbing at it.”

“Just a bit sore,” Gwyneira admitted. “But I’m fine.” 

“Let me see it.” Emrys' eyes darkened with hunger, his pupils expanding as he patiently held his own hand out. 

“Seriously, I’m okay.” 

Emrys inhaled a sharp breath. “Please, Gwyneira. For my own peace of mind?”

“Fine.” Gwyneira placed her hand over his, the touch of his icy skin making her shiver. Long, calloused fingers gently caressed her skin and tenderly glided over the two swollen pinpricks on her wrist. 

Emrys kept those piercing eyes on her as he eased her wrist up to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the tender skin. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, and she couldn’t look away from his enchanting gaze. Had her skin always been so sensitive? 

A soft gasp escaped her when Emrys licked the tender bite marks, his eyes never leaving her with each languid lap at her skin. Heat pooled in her center as she squirmed in her chair. Why did he need to make eye-contact? Why did he need to look at her like she was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted? 

When he pulled away, Gwyneira resisted the urge to pull him back to her. Warmth flooded through her body like summer sunshine. Her face flushed, and while her wrist no longer ached, another new foreign sense of pleasure pulsed beneath the skin. 

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?” The innocence in his softened features contradicted the way she felt from his tongue on her skin. 

“No,” Gwyneira murmured. “Thank you.”

“You should rest, okay? You’re feverish.” Emrys brought the back of his hand to her forehead, and the hunger in his eyes vanished. Something akin to concern brimmed in those lovely crimson irises of his. 

“Don’t worry,” Gwyneira found herself a little breathless at his touch, but she desperately tried not to let it show. “I just need to finish some paperwork and send out some letters.”

“You’ll work yourself to your grave like this, Gwyneira.” Emrys folded his arms across his chest, making a tsk sound. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t need any help.  Why don’t you crack open one of those romance novels of yours instead?” Gwyneira suggested.

Emrys sauntered over to his chair and slouched down with a brooding frown.  It shouldn’t have bothered her.  She tried to keep her attention focused on the piles of paperwork scattered across her desk from upcoming court cases, yet something propelled her to glance up every so often at him.  He looked pitifully rejected, like a puppy who just wanted attention but got shooed away instead.

With a deep sigh, Gwyneira pulled out her wand and levitated stacks of manilla folders with important client info, all properly labeled by surname, midair.  “If you want to be useful, file these for me.  The cabinet’s just over there.” She pointed toward the left wall, where a giant fireproof black metal cabinet stood.

The excitement that lit up in his eyes made her blush, but she was fortunate that he was too preoccupied with his latest task to even notice.  Honestly, he was paying her to defend him.  And had someone sneaked in room and board along the way. There was no need for him to offer help, even if it lightened her workload slightly.

It shouldn’t make her so darn happy to see him smile over a bunch of files either.  She didn’t find the way his ears perked up when she flew the folders into his arms adorable, and she certainly didn’t find it endearing how he’d worried about her taking on too much work.  

Once she cleared Emrys Hawthorn’s name, she would never see or hear from him again.  They were not friends or acquaintances, or anything more.  That was how things had to be, but a twisted part of her heart wondered if that was truly what she wanted.