Ким Харрисон - Every Witch Way But Dead

"No kidding," I said, thinking it sounded like an informal vampire support group. Maybe Ivy should go. Nah. She'd ruin it for everyone else.

"You wouldn't have been so receptive if you hadn't needed it so much," he said, parking at the outskirts.

"Oh, so it is my fault," I said dryly.

"Don't," he said, his words harsh as he yanked the parking brake up. "I let you yell at me once already tonight. Don't try to flip this back on me. The more you need it, the harder it hits you is all. That's why no one thought anything less of you—and maybe they think a little more."

Taken aback, I made an apologetic face. "Sorry." I kinda liked that he was too smart to be manipulated by wicked female logic. It made things more interesting. Slowly he relaxed, turning off the heater and the softly playing disc.

"You were hurting inside," he said as he took the singing monk CD out and put it in its case. "From Nick. I've watched you hurt since you drew on that line through him and he got scared. And they got a kick out of seeing you unwind." He smiled with a distant look. "It made them feel good that the big bad witch who beat up Piscary trusted them. Trust is a feeling we don't get very often, Rachel. Living vampires lust after it almost as much as blood. That's why Ivy is ready to kill anyone who threatens your friendship with her."

I said nothing, staring as it started to make sense.

"You didn't know that, did you?" he added, and I shook my head, uncomfortable with digging into the whys of my relationship with Ivy. The car was getting cold, and I shivered.

"And showing your vulnerability probably upped your reputation, too," he said. "That you didn't feel threatened by them and let it happen."

I looked at the boat sitting before us, decorated with blinking holiday lights. "I didn't have a choice."

He reached out and adjusted the collar of his coat about my shoulders. "Yes, you did."

Kisten's hand fell from me, and I gave him a weak smile. I wasn't convinced, but at least I didn't feel like so much of a fool. My mind went over the events, the slow slide from a relaxed state into sleep, and the attitudes of those around me. There hadn't been any laugher at my expense. I had felt comforted, cared for. Understood. And there hadn't been a flicker of blood lust coming from any of them. I hadn't known vampires could be like that.

"Line dancing, Kisten?" I said, feeling my lips quirk into a wry smile.

A nervous laugh came from him and he bowed his head. "Hey, ah, could you not tell anyone about that?" he asked, the rims of his ears reddening. "What happens at Piscary's stays at Piscary's. It's an unwritten rule."

Being stupid, I reached out and ran a finger over the arch of his blood-reddened ear. He beamed, shifting to take my hand and brush his lips against my fingers. "Unless you want to get yourself banned from there as well," he said.

A shiver went through me at his breath on my fingers, and I pulled my hand away. His speculative look went right to my core, pulling my stomach into knots of anticipation. "You looked good out there," I said, not caring if it was a mistake. "Do you have a karaoke night?"

"Mmmm," he murmured, shifting in his seat to fall into his bad-boy slump against the door. "Karaoke. There's an idea. Tuesdays are slow. We never get enough people to get a good buzz going. That might be just the thing."

I turned my attention to the boat to hide my smile. The image of Ivy on stage singing "Round Midnight" flitted through me and was gone. Kisten's attention followed mine to the boat. It was one of those remade riverboats, two stories tall and almost entirely enclosed. "I'll take you home if you want," he said.

Shaking my head, I tightened the tie on his coat, and the scent of leather puffed up. "No, I want to see how you pay for a dinner cruise on an iced-over river with only sixty dollars."

"This isn't dinner. This is the entertainment." He went to toss his hair artfully aside, then stopped mid-movement.

The lights in my head started to go on. "It's a gambling boat," I said. "That's not fair. Piscary owns all the gambling boats. You won't have to pay for a thing."

"It's not Piscary's boat." Kisten got out of the car and came around to my side. Looking good in his wool coat, he opened my door and waited for me to get out.

"Oh," I said, more lights turning on. "We're here checking out the competition?"

"Something like that." He bent to look at me. "Coming? Or are we going to leave?"

If he wasn't going to get his chips for free, it would be legal under our arrangement. And I'd never gambled before. It might be fun. Accepting his hand, I let him help me out of the car.

His pace was rapid as we hustled to the railed gangplank. A man in a parka and gloves waited at the foot of the ramp, and as Kisten talked with him, I glanced at the boat's water-line. Rows of bubbles kept the riverboat from becoming iced in. It was probably more expensive than taking the boat out for the winter, but city regulations stipulated you could only gamble on the river. And even though the boat was tied to the dock, it was on the water.

After speaking into a radio, the big man let us pass. Kisten put a hand on the small of my back and pushed me forward. "Thanks for letting me borrow your coat," I said as my boots clattered up and we found ourselves on the covered walk-way. Tonight's snow made a white icing, and I brushed it off the railing to make slushy clumps in the open water.

"My pleasure," he said, pointing to a half wood, half glass door. There was an etched intertwined pair of capital S's on it, and I shuddered when a shimmer of ley line force passed through me when Kisten opened the door and we crossed the threshold. It was probably the casino's antitampering charm, and it gave me the willies, like I was breathing air coated in oil.

Another big man in a tux—a witch, by the familiar scent of redwood—was there to greet us, and he took both Kisten's and my coat. Kisten signed the guest book, putting me down as "guest." Peeved, I wrote my name below his with big loopy flourishes, taking up three entire lines. The pen made my fingers tingle, and I looked at the metal barrel before I set it down. All my warning flags went up, and while Kisten bought a single chip with most of our date allowance, I made a precise line through both my and Kisten's name to prevent our signatures from possibly being used as a focusing object for a ley line charm.

"And you did that because…" Kisten questioned as he took my arm.

"Trust me." I smiled at the stone-faced witch in a tux handling the guest book. There were subtler ways to prevent such thefts of focusing objects, but I didn't know them. And that I had just insulted the host didn't bother me at all. Like I would ever be back there again?

Kisten had my arm so I was free to nod, as if I was important to anyone who looked up from his or her gaming. I was glad Kisten had dressed me; I'd have looked like a whore here in what I had picked out. The oak and teak paneling was comforting, and the rich green carpet felt scrumptious on my feet, clear through my boots. The few windows were draped with deep burgundy and black fabric, pulled aside to show the lights of Cincinnati. It was warm with the scent of people and excitement. The clatter of chips and bursts of sound quickened my pulse.

The low ceiling could have been claustrophobic, but it wasn't. There were two tables of blackjack, a craps table, a wheel, and an entire bank of one-armed bandits. In the corner was a small bar. Most of the staff was of the witch or warlock persuasion, if my gut instinct was right. I wondered where the poker table was. Upstairs, perhaps? I didn't know how to play anything else. Well, I could play blackjack, but that was for sissies.

"How about some blackjack?" Kisten said as he subtly guided me that way.