Drawn to the Vampire (Blood and Absinthe, Book 4) by Chloe Hart

too. You can go to bed right after you finish your dinner, if you like. I’m going to pay a visit to the man I was talking about, the one who knows about the portal.”
    Kit put down her fork. “I want to come with you. We’re working together, remember? And it’s my brother we’re trying to save.”
    The vampire hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
    Kit frowned. “Is he dangerous?”
    “Well…yes and no. He’s a human, but he practices the dark arts, magic and foretelling and that sort of thing. He casts spells for money, some of which aren’t very pleasant, but I’d consider him a small-time operator, so to speak. He’s helped me out more than once. If he agrees to work with you on something, he’s fairly honorable about it. He won’t directly double cross you.”
    “Won’t directly double-cross you? That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement—”
    “Listen, sweetheart. If you’re serious about this mission of yours, you’d better get used to the idea that you’re going to have to deal with some questionable types. Hell, I’m a questionable type. If you’re more concerned with keeping your lily white hands from touching anything remotely—”
    “Enough, I get it. And I’m done eating. So let’s go.”
    Luke hesitated again. “You’ll let me do the talking?”
    “Fine.”
    “Daro likes to provoke people. Can I count on you to keep your cool?”
    “Hey, I’m the Queen of Cool.”
    Luke covered his eyes with one hand. “I have a bad feeling about this, but we do need a coin of passage. I think you have to be physically present for the conjuring. That means you’ll have to meet him at some point. If you promise to be on your best behavior, you can come with me.”
    Kit grinned at him. “I’m always on my best behavior.”
    * * *
    Ten minutes later the two of them were making their way down a narrow cobblestoned alley. The night was cold, if not quite as cold as the mountains of Wales had been, and Kit was glad for the warmth and softness of the cashmere sweater Luke had brought her. He’d also provided the black jeans and soft leather boots she was wearing, as well as the lacy scraps of material that were currently passing for her bra and panties.
    She’d made a sarcastic comment about his underwear choices, and he’d merely replied innocently that this was the norm in Paris and good luck trying to find whatever “sensible” American brand she preferred.
    She’d decided to let it go.
    The coat he’d gotten her was a much more unalloyed source of pleasure. It was leather, softly lined, and as comfortable and elegant as it was warm.
    The man definitely had good taste. Of course after four hundred years he probably knew a thing or two about what women liked. Not to mention how to eyeball their sizes with more accuracy than seemed decent. The bra, for example, fit perfectly.
    Kit found that she didn’t like thinking about the four centuries worth of women Luke had done things like this for.
    Had he loved any of them?
    Not that she cared, of course.
    “Here we are,” Luke said suddenly, and Kit looked up to see a dark, seedy looking building. There was a light fixture beside the door, but the glass was broken and the bulb had burned out. Kit drew a step closer to Luke as he rapped the knocker in a pattern she guessed was a signal or code.
    The door was answered almost immediately by a grim looking woman in a black dress. Luke asked a question in French and the woman nodded, stepping back so they could enter.
    They passed into a dank hallway, and as they proceeded along it Kit almost reached for Luke’s arm. As soon as she became aware of her impulse she stuffed her hands in her pockets. No way was she going to give Luke a reason to think she couldn’t handle herself.
    The woman stopped at a door near the end of the corridor and knocked.
    “Entrez,” Kit heard a voice call from the other side, and she was relieved at how pleasant and ordinary it sounded. The woman