Falling for Fangs

“I see,” Chloe said, and Maxwell felt her eyes move over his thin linen shirt. Damn, if he had been hoping to pass for human, maybe he ought to have worn a coat. “That would be handy,” she said after a moment. “I can’t stand the cold.”

“You should visit Las Vegas,” Maxwell said, grinning at the thought of Chloe, in her neat slacks and tight ponytail, surrounded by the lights, the colour, the endless noise and chaos of the Strip. “It’s never cold there.”

“Sounds like heaven,” Chloe managed a small smile. “But I’m not much of a gambler.”

“Oh, I’m sure we could find you something to enjoy,” Maxwell couldn’t resist flirting just a little. “Whatever your tastes.”

Chloe’s cheeks flushed, and she turned away, pointing at a sofa. “The furniture can be included with the house at the discretion of the buyer. You can see there are some charming antique pieces and also a few excellent replicas.”

“I like the furniture,” Maxwell said, running a hand over the stiff leather chesterfield. “It suits.”

“It does,” Chloe agreed. “A house like this would look odd with a whole lot of clear plastic and chrome.”

Maxwell wrinkled his nose at the very idea and then began to examine the thick drapes over one window, testing the thickness of the fabric between his long fingers.

“I can’t imagine a lot of light gets into this place,” Maxwell let go of the curtain. “With the trees surrounding, too.”

“No. Which has put off a lot of people, but for you…”

“It’s perfect,” Maxwell said, his mind made up. “What are they asking?”

Chloe suppressed a sigh, and Maxwell wondered what the problem was. “There’s a price guide on your information sheet,” she said hesitantly. “The owner is, well, I believe that his personal feelings about the property might mean that he’s hoping for a higher value than the market would support, but perhaps he could be willing to negotiate—”

“I don’t have time to negotiate,” Maxwell said, looking down at the sheet. “He wants over $3.5 million?

“He would,” Chloe admitted. “But perhaps if we came in at a lower amount with room to move, we could—”

“Then I’ll offer $3.7 if I can take immediate possession,” Maxwell said decisively. He knew he wouldn’t be happy elsewhere, not once he had seen this place. “All-cash offer.”

That, apparently, came as rather a shock to Chloe because she dropped the binder she was holding. Maxwell stooped to pick it up, handing it back to her.

“Thank you,” Chloe took it back gingerly, holding it in front of her like a security blanket. Maybe she wasn’t used to aggressive offers, he thought. He couldn’t imagine the real estate market in a town like this was particularly hot.

“So, what do I have to do to make this mine?” Maxwell said, rubbing his hands together. “Can you call the owner now?”

“Well, usually I wouldn’t call at this time, but with that kind of offer, maybe I could make an exception,” Chloe stammered.

“I’d be so very grateful,” Maxwell wasn’t above using his most charming smile to get what he wanted.

“Well, I’ll…” Chloe pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Give me a minute,” she said. “I don’t know if he’ll answer at this time…”

Maxwell waited, but he felt a spark of excitement when he heard Chloe say, “Hello, is that Mr Picton? I’m sorry for calling so late, but I’ve got an offer that you will be very happy with.”

He pretended to examine the wallpaper, flicked a lamp on and off, and took exception to an elephant’s foot umbrella stand (he’d have that removed immediately). All the while, he listened intently to Chloe’s side of the phone call. Maxwell wasn’t very good at being patient or even pretending to be.

Finally, he heard Chloe say, “That’s wonderful, Mr Picton. I’ll let him know now,” and Maxwell felt his stomach clench with excitement at securing the house. Curiously, he felt a stab of disappointment at precisely the same moment. If his offer was accepted, he’d have no reason to see Chloe again. Something about that felt rather anti-climactic, though he wasn’t sure why. Chloe wasn’t his usual type, and besides he wasn’t looking for anyone, his usual type or otherwise.

“So?” Maxwell couldn’t help asking as Chloe turned to him.

“Mr Picton has accepted your offer and terms, including immediate occupation and, of course, the furniture.”

Maxwell punched a fist into the air. Even Chloe smiled before covering her mouth as though too much of a display of excitement was unprofessional. No fun at all, Maxwell thought.

“Excellent,” Maxwell said. “What’s it called, anyway? This place, I mean.”

“Would you believe it’s called the Sanguis Estate?” she raised an eyebrow. “Guess it was meant to be. The original owners had…interesting tastes.”

Maxwell laughed; Sanguis, of course, was Latin for blood. “I like that,” he said. “Sounds like we have a deal.” He extended a hand to Chloe. “If your hands have warmed up, we can shake on it.”

Chloe let out a polite chuckle. “Well, now I know you wouldn’t be bothered by my hands being cold anyway,” she said, with a quirk of her mouth. She took Maxwell’s hand in her own, grasping it firmly so he could feel her soft palm and delicate fingers interlaced with his own.

Before Maxwell could think, say anything, or even let go of Chloe’s hand, there was a noise like a cannon exploding, and his hand, still holding Chloe’s, felt like it had been electrocuted.

“What the hell—” Maxwell exclaimed. He tried to pull his hand back, but it was stuck to Chloe’s. Her eyes were wide with terror. And with good reason; a ring of glowing red sparks had erupted from their clasped hands.

“Are you doing this?” Chloe tried unsuccessfully to yank her hand away.

“No!” Maxwell insisted. He wasn’t panicking; he wasn’t a panicky kind of guy. But he was undoubtedly alarmed.

The ring of sparks suddenly flew outwards with another bang, and both he and Chloe flew backwards at the same moment. He landed, sprawled unceremoniously, on a hand-knotted Persian rug.

“What the hell was that?” Chloe looked dazed, staring at him with wide, horrified blue eyes.

“I think,” Maxwell said slowly. “That was a curse.”