“I’ve felt so disengaged from him,” the other woman admits. “There’s no passion anymore, you know?”
“I’m no therapist, nor an attorney, but I can tell you based on these cards, you should have a conversation with your husband. One that is calm and honest. Because this indicates you’re being hasty.”
“Maybe I am,” the client admits with a sigh. “Thank you, Millie. You always help me so much.”
“You’re welcome, sugar,” Millie says with a wink. She gathers her cards and presses her hand over the deck as the other woman leaves, whispering a little incantation to recharge and reset them before setting them aside.
When she glances up and sees me, her brown eyes darken. Whether in pleasure or disappointment, I’m not sure.
“Good afternoon,” I say as I approach.
“Are you here to get your cards read?” she asks.
“No.” I know what my future holds. It’s just how we get there that’s a little hard to see. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
“Somewhere private.”
Those big brown eyes narrow on me now. “I was just headed home. You can join me, if you like.”
I nod, surprised by the invitation. Millie’s never invited me into her home, but there’s never been an occasion where I asked to speak to her privately, either.
“I’ll meet you there,” she says. “I just have to check in on Esme and grab my bag.”
“Thanks. I mean it.”
She nods, and I leave, headed for my car. The drive to Millie’s house isn’t a long one, and I park at the curb to wait for her to join me.
She was right. She isn’t far behind me. Once she’s parked in the driveway, I join her on the porch and watch as she eyes my blood mark from earlier.
She doesn’t say anything, just unlocks the door with a flick of her wrist and gestures for me to follow her inside.
Sanguine comes running to greet her human, rubbing up against Millie’s legs as she offers a big meow.
“Hi, darlin’,” Millie says and rubs the cat’s ears. Her fingers are long and strong, and I’d love to feel them on my skin.
But that’s for another time.
“Whew, what a day,” she chimes in before I can say anything. She leads me to her small kitchen, which has herbs hung for drying, and countertops full of pots and jars with special ingredients for her potions. “I’m having wine. Do you want some?”
I glance at the time. “It’s a little early in the day for me.”
“I’ve been awake since three,” she says with a shrug as she pours half a glass of red and eyes me over the rim as she takes a sip. “Two visits in two days.”
“I figured you’d be missing me by now.”
I shove my hands into my pockets so I don’t pull her against me and kiss the sass right out of her.
Not that I could, but I’d enjoy trying.
“Yeah, I’ve been heartsick all day.” She takes one more sip and sets her glass aside. “Should we sit for this conversation?”
“I want to know about the body you found last night.”
And just like that, all humor leaves her gorgeous face.
“How did you find out about that?”
“Cash brought me in on the investigation.”
She narrows her eyes on me. “Why would he need help from a blood expert?”
“Because there’s a mystery surrounding the blood,” I reply. “I told you to call me if anything happened.”
“Lucien,”—my heart stills at the sound of my name on her lips—“I saw a dumped body. That’s it.”
“And you don’t think that warrants some thought? Millie, Horace—”
“Is dead!” she yells and turns to me with angry brown eyes. “He died. We defeated him. You were there. Just because he collected blood from his victims for me doesn’t mean that he’s back and killing more people.”
“What did you just say?”
She swears under her breath and paces around the kitchen. She’s magnificent with her long, blond hair and fair skin. She’s tall, almost as tall as my six feet, with a willowy body that’s tempted me for as long as I can remember. And right now, I want to take her over my knee and spank her. “I didn’t mean to tell you that.”
“Tell me what?”
“Horace took trophies,” she says and rubs her head in agitation, as if thinking about all of this is giving her a headache. I reach over and run my thumb over the center of her forehead, taking the pain as my own. I don’t even blink as an ache settles behind my eyes.
“Thanks. Anyway, he was big into trophies, the sick piece of shit. For Brielle, it was her long, dark hair. He had dozens of braids. For Daphne, it was eyes. Because she has the sight, as he put it.”
“And for you?” I ask, but I already know. I’ve always known.
“Blood.” She swallows hard. “He’d saved enough blood to fill the bayou.”