Honeysuckles and Blood

Priscilla's POV After twenty years of putting myself in harm's way, seeking answers for my sister's disappearance, I expected to die. Be put out of my misery. Somehow, I survived. Got my answers. Why wasn't I satisfied with that? Maybe because I used my bruja bloodline to hunt vampires and turns out that my sister was a vampire. With a family at that. I had a niece that I didn't know existed. A brother-in-law. The biggest surprise was that my sister's pureblooded family welcomed me with open arms. I didn't want that. Or did I? I didn't even know who I was anymore without my revenge. My vendetta should have killed me. I wanted it to kill me. But instead, I stay up late at night, thinking about everything I had done in the pursuit of answers. Deals I made. People I killed. Now I'm haunted by the realization that it wasn't worth it. Right about now, after landing in Venice a few days ago, I regretted coming here. My sister, Astrid, was living in a villa outside of town, and instead of staying with her, I was staying with Wyatt Rivers. What possessed me to think that it was a good idea to stay with the alpha from the New York Wolfpack? I blame the matebond for drawing me to him. I found myself helplessly attracted to the man, but somehow staying in a house with a bunch of shifters still felt favorable to a house full of vampires. With the newly acquired land, Wyatt was busy drawing up blueprints for the new community. That kept him out of my business. However, my niece, Oriana, wouldn't leave me alone. Her mate, Robin, worked day and night with Wyatt, leaving the little spitfire unattended and bored. Lucky me. As annoying as I found the young hybrid, I couldn't help but like her. Oriana was one of the people I had hurt during my path of vengeance. One of many regrets. While she seemed to have let it go, I couldn't. I wanted to make it up to her. Oriana was the spitting image of her mother. Uncanny. I watched as she tuned her guitar, strumming a few chords as she worked on a new song. The girl had talent, and it was nice to see her exercising it. My scorching mug of green tea sat in my hands, turning my palms a rosy color at the heat. “That's a nice melody," I complimented, sipping the liquid. It burned my tongue, but I gave no reaction to it. Oriana beamed, “Thanks! You sure I'm not bothering you?" Of course she was bothering me, but she didn't know that. This was me extending myself, letting someone get close to me. “I'm sure, Oriana." “Okay," she conceded, a few wild curls of hair falling from her bun. That was her abuela's hair. Astrid also adorned the coveted locks. Me, though, I had my papa's hair. Poker straight and practically black. “Are you ready for lunch with my mama tomorrow?" Sweet of her to ask, and the answer was no. “As ready as I'll ever be. Are you?" She wasn't on good terms with Astrid either, but like me, she was extending an olive branch. Unlocking the door and leaving it to chance. Building a bridge of opportunity. “I think so. I can't be angry forever," she said. “You can be angry forever, I just wouldn't recommend it," I answered with a wave of my wrist. Oriana cracked a smile, assuming that it was a joke, but once she glanced at my face, she realized that I wasn't joking. “Are you okay, Priscilla? Really?" I set my mug down on the kitchen island. “I spent twenty years thinking that Astrid was dead, Oriana. Thinking that the Romano family buried her in a ditch somewhere. I'm a little conflicted." “That's fair," the young woman agreed. “How's it going with Wyatt?" A scoff bubbled past my lips before I could stop it. “Someone is nosy." “I just know what it's like to be in close proximity to my mate and—" “And not have s*x with them?" I finished her sentence. Oriana offered me a sheepish smile. “You just have to say the word and I'll make myself scarce." “Don't concern yourself with that," I answered, bringing the mug back to my lips again. I was aware of the effect Wyatt had on me. When I saw him. When he filled my dreams. Those byzantine green eyes elicited a long-buried feeling of desire in me. To make things worse, Wyatt made it quite clear how he felt about me, and I made it clear that he would be waiting a long time before I ever returned any of those feelings. I glanced at my niece, slightly envious of how easy she made everything seem. Oriana was twenty-years-old. Young. Hot-headed and helplessly in love with Robin. I saw the effect the matebond had on her. She couldn't resist him, and in all honestly, Robin made her a better person for it. But I wasn't Oriana. I wasn't a twenty-year-old party girl. I was a thirty-eight-year-old stone cold b***h. Difficult to like. Fast to argue. I hated myself for it, but I knew who I was. I would sooner die than let anything control my fate but me. That included a f*****g matebond. The front door to the lodge opened, revealing the shifters coming inside after a long day in the sun plotting out the land. Robin walked in first, swooping by to give Oriana an affectionate kiss on the side of her head. She turned toward him, giggling as she pressed a kiss against his lips. “You smell terrible," she teased, pulling back from him. Robin offered her a smile, “I'll go hop in the shower. Do you want to go out to dinner tonight?" Oriana nodded enthusiastically. They seemed so happy. Before Robin met Oriana, his second chance mate, I had seen him at the police precinct a few times, never smiling. All business all the time. The man was built like an ox, but he was so sad all the time that he seemed smaller. Now, he stood up taller, like Oriana gave him purpose. Robin drew away from her, walking off in the direction of their room. Oriana's eyes didn't leave him once as she stood up, placing the guitar gently on the island. “We'll talk later, Priscilla!" she bid me goodbye and ran off toward where Robin disappeared to. I rolled my eyes, sipping at my tea again. The front door opened again, revealing Wyatt discussing something with a younger shifter named Tanner. His green eyes met mine almost instantly. Upon his presence, the room seemed to fill with his towering energy. An uncontrollable shiver ran down my spine, tingling my thighs. My body reacted to him immediately. And I hated it. My internal reaction only pissed me off. His gaze shifted down, taking in how my hair was down, pushed off one shoulder. I looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Take a picture," I retorted, taking a sip of my tea. “What was that?" Wyatt asked, knowing full well what I just said. The room got awfully quiet as the shifters slinked out of the kitchen. Tanner looked between Wyatt and me before he too, left the room. I shrugged nonchalantly. “I said, take a picture. It'll last longer." In a few strides, Wyatt was in front of me. I wasn't a small woman, about five-nine, but he still towered over me at six-foot-five. He was built like a swimmer. Lithe, strong, and dexterous. “I would appreciate if you kept comments like that to yourself." “Well, I would appreciate if you kept your eyes to yourself." Without missing a beat, Wyatt replied, “Put a beautiful woman in front of me and I'm bound to stare." I hated him. I hated the blossoming flush on my cheeks at his flattery. I hated the twisting sensation in my belly as his lips pulled into the ghost of a smile. I frowned. “Remember Priscilla, I'm doing you a favor by letting you stay here," his voice was as smooth as satin as he dipped down, his face dangerously close to mine. His breath fanned across my face, a bead of fire growing within me. “I could easily withdraw your invitation." “Could," I replied, eyes flashing up to his. Every word a challenge. “But you won't." His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. If I wasn't staring at him so intently, I wouldn't have noticed the wavering in his resolve. “Don't be so sure. The Romanos only live a few miles away. I'm sure they wouldn't mind a guest." My frown deepened. I would sooner crawl onto a park bench than ask my sister for a guest room. In no way, shape, or form was I ready to board in a house full of vampires. As hard as I tried to hide how I felt about that, Wyatt sighed, pulling away from me. “You're in my house, if you're going to disrespect me, at least do it when we're alone." “And here I thought you couldn't take a joke," I replied. Wyatt's eyes gave absolutely nothing away as he left the room. When he was out of sight my shoulders slouched, giving in to the part of me that wanted to let go. My insides were still all twisty, but at the very least, my dreams would offer me some form of fantasy. And the best part about dreaming about Wyatt was that there were no strings attached.