She locked her door and went into the walk-in-robe, striking the hidden catch that opened the wall into a secret staircase, shivering as the cooler air struck her. She went into this room as infrequently as she could, and it was musty as a result.
She wound her way up into the turret, the roughly finished stone bricks pressing in on her, and the wooden steps creaking, their treads worn treacherously smooth by generations of feet. In the turret room, the walls lined with bookcases heavy with arcane objects and ancient texts, she lit the candle over the desk pressed beneath a stain glass window and opened the grimoire.
She held her hand over it and tried to calm her heart and remember the lessons her grandmother had fought so hard to teach her. She had never been interested in this side of her heritage, preferring dance to magic.
“Heat,” she commanded, and watched the pages lift and flicker. The first spell it landed on was one for warmth. “Next,” she said impatiently. Perhaps she was doing it wrong?
A spell for starting fires.
“Heat,” she repeated, trying to think about the search engines of the internet. “Mage heat.”
There was a pause.
“It is not a spell,” her grandmother’s ghost observed. “It is an inherited biological response. The book cannot answer your question.”
“What the f-k is it?” Lia whirled to face her. “Why have you never mentioned it to me?
“Language Lia.” Her grandmother arched a transparent eyebrow. “What does it sound like? You have reached an age where it is appropriate to find a mate and create the next generation. As to why I have never mentioned, I’m quite certain I did, you just were never prepared to listen.”
“Right,” Lia said sourly. “And what constitutes an appropriate mate, exactly, grandmother? A human, a werewolf, a vampire, a… whatever?”
The book flickered into life, flashing pages from werewolf to vampire, to angel, to devil, to gargoyle, as if presenting her with an array of choices, a catalogue of potential sexual partners.
“That’s a good question,” her grandmother’s ghost smiled indulgently. “Something our women have been asking for generations, as we are compatible with all and sundry. You can choose, of course, sweet Cecilia, my little blind one. You can choose who you take as mate, and accordingly, what your future holds.”
What your future holds, Lia repeated as she brushed her teeth in the en suite. Five years before, she had aspired to dance full time professionally. She was in her final year in the academy and seemed to be relegated to the backdrop, whilst lesser dancers got the lead roles. Family mattered in an industry which relied on rich investors to survive, and she simply did not have the right family connections.
Background dancers did not get offers to join companies.
Paris was right, they needed to create their own work. Entertainment dancers was almost a dirty word in the academy, but if being an entertainment dancer meant that she could continue to dance and make money, then she would do it. So, if wearing a French Maid’s outfit was the way onto the stage, then she would lift trays Friday and Saturday nights.
The pay wasn’t bad, she added as she put the tips into the little safe hidden in her walk-in-robe.
As for taking a mate… She sighed as she folded back the bed covers.
Dancing had filled all the spaces boys might have taken. There was always a rehearsal or a class that meant she could not go out, and she had always been watching her weight, so drinking or going out for dinner simply held no appeal.
She had dated a couple of male dancers since joining the academy, kissed a couple of them, but romantic disputes caused so many issues for her friends that she had decided it was best to avoid them. She had dreams, she had told herself, and there was nothing a man could offer her that her vibrator couldn’t achieve.
The was before she had encountered Raiden, however, and in one night, she had almost brought the werewolf into her house, her room, her bed. She’d never done that before. With anyone. But what there was between them was powerful… Or was it the heat and not the man? Did all witches and warlocks go on heat? Did the Others go on heat? Werewolves, she could understand, because of their nature…
Raiden would be able to smell she was on heat, she realized. Was that why he was interested? But, no, that just didn’t feel right either.
And Cael… Cael was a problem. She was not entirely sure that she wanted him living in the house after he had almost taken advantage of her. Using magic to do so was just… playing dirty, she added. How many humans had he used his magic on in order to seduce what he wanted from them? And he had asked if Raiden was her boyfriend, and she had told him yes. He’d had no place seducing her knowing that.
She had not exactly resisted, though, she scolded herself.
He had to be a warlock. It made sense why he did not have the Other in his eyes, and how he had used magic to seduce her. Witches and warlocks were not Other, exactly. What they were was a little vague, but they were not the same, and they were very difficult to distinguish from humans, unless they did something specific to give themselves away, like use magic, as Cael had done.
She would speak to Cael in the morning when she got his month’s rent from him. She would let him stay, she decided, but she would make clear that it was strictly hands off. He also might be able to tell her more about the heat. Before she had to go to work, at a club full of vampires and werewolves.