Fangs for Nothing (The Nevermore Murder Club and Smutty Book Coven 1)

by Steffanie Holmes

I may be a hot mess, but at least I’m a fun hot mess, like a runaway train filled with glitter and Jammie Dodgers.

I admit it. I’m a bit of a hopeless romantic. I used to devour one or two romance novels a week – give me all the burly mountain men, clever professors with kinky proclivities, spoiled billionaires, wild motorcycle gangs, or sexy vampires, as long as the hero is broody, grumpy, and possessive with a schlong that has to be checked as oversized baggage on aeroplanes, I’m in.

If Dracula visited Black Crag, the infamous vampire would step back in disgust and tell the owner; ‘Cool it with the gargoyles, dude. No one’s that goth.’

Even though this place looks like a junk store had a drunken hate fuck with an Andy Warhol painting, it has a personality, a vibe, a presence.

Why do I feel like Jonathan Harker when he first arrives at Dracula’s castle? I feel as though I’m being lured into a trap, like a fly caught in a web, but part of me is excited to meet the spider…

“But you have a fancy title. If I had a fancy title, I’d make everyone use it.” “Would you like a fancy title?” The corner of his mouth quirks again. “I believe I have the power to bestow them. Would you like to be ‘Empress Winifred, Lady of Light and Laughter and Terrible Music,’ or perhaps, ‘Grand Poobah of the Clutter Castle.’” “You are ridiculous.” “The Very Very Reverend Winifred, Mistress of the Storage Containers.” “Stop!” “Galactic Czarina Winifred? Witchfinder General Winnie?” He taps his chin. “I’m certain there is a title that will convey all of your beauty and brilliance…” “Just Winnie! Please!” My stomach hurts from laughing. “Alaric.”

Now that I know that we could be together without the risk of Dhampir, I will do anything to keep her, anything to make her mine.

“So we’re going to set intentions for your space, and your life.” Winnie places her hands on her knees, and I unclench my fists and copy her. But then she places her hands over mine, and I’m back to fantasies so monstrous that she’d personally light my funeral pyre if she could see them. “What do you want for your life?” I want you. On my desk, legs spread wide for me. I want to scrape my fangs over your nipples while you writhe beneath me. I want my name on your lips again as I drive you wild with my tongue and fingers… I want to taste you. All of you. I want to make you mine.

“The traumatic thing makes you feel like the world is scary and out of your control. We can’t stop people from hurting us.” Her voice cracks. “But your castle and your art are things you control. They make you feel good, and there’s no risk of being hurt. So you build a physical barrier between yourself and the outside world, like the walls of a castle.” How she can spend mere days with me and yet know my heart?

“You’re in the village. People might see you?” “Don’t sound so panicked. I brought a disguise.” He removes an object from his pocket and holds it under his nose. It’s a small cardboard moustache. “No one will recognise me now.”

“You’re ridiculous. What are you doing here?” I ask. “How did you get into the village?” “I am…trying to be vulnerable. I thought you might like some supper.” He holds out his arm. “Would you allow me to take you for a meal?” The corner of his mouth quirks a little as if something he said is funny in a dark way. He’s trying to be vulnerable. For me.

“You didn’t say what you’re doing here.” Patrick frowns. “You weren’t following me, were you?” “Oh, no,” I wave a hand, frantically trying to come up with some lie that’s better than the truth, that Faye forced me to come since I’m the one without a flat or a life. “I’m…um…I’m⁠—” “Winifred is my betrothed,” Alaric’s deep voice booms in my ear.

“Lord Alaric Valerian, at your service.” Alaric extends his free hand towards Patrick. “I’m pleased to meet you. Are you friends of Winifred from London? We must have you at the castle for tea. My soon-to-be wife enjoys entertaining, and our chef is world-class.” Alaric looks at me and winks, and his arm around me squeezes, and Patrick glares at him, and I think I might die of happiness. “Oh, we’re not friends,” I say sweetly. “I used to be engaged to Patrick, but then he decided to cheat on me with Claire, my best friend since kindergarten.” “I see.” Alaric withdraws his hand. “In that case, I shall rescind the tea invitation.”

“We didn’t mean to hurt you.” Claire’s face falls. “And look, you’re happily engaged too, so it all worked out okay in the end. Can’t we just⁠—” “No, Claire, we can’t just. Alaric and I finding each other doesn’t change the fact that I trusted both of you and you betrayed me.”

“I read in the history of Black Crag Castle that one of my ancestor’s men betrayed his betrothed. The lord hung him from the castle walls,” Alaric says conversationally. “By his testicles.”

“I’m sorry, you rescind the tea invitation? That is the sickest burn I’ve heard from a member of the aristocracy.”

“You’re my knight in shining armour.” “I’m afraid my armour is rather dulled from lack of use, but if you ask it, I shall adorn my suit and duel that fiend Patrick. Luckily, we will not need such a large rope for his tiny testicles⁠—” “The testicle-hanging isn’t necessary, but appreciated.”

“I’m used to skewering my enemies on ornately decorated swords,” Alaric says as he wraps his long fingers around his glass but does not drink it. “Pretending to be your husband is a more pleasant form of revenge. Plus it has the added advantage of less gore on my clothes.” “I’m never certain if you’re kidding or not, but I love this bloodthirsty version of you.”

“Their faces when they found out that you were a lord were an absolute joy.” “A little vengeance is good for the soul.”

“I did not run from our kiss because I don’t want you, Winnie. I ran because you’re everything I’ve dreamed of.”

Excuse me, what? “You’re fun, and bright, and beautiful, and patient. You light up a room just by walking into it. It is torture to work so closely with you, to sit beside the fire with you, when the things I long to do to your body are anything but chaste.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, “for pretending to be my fiancé. Hopefully, we won’t see them around again and we won’t have to⁠—” “I will be your betrothed any time you wish.”

Alaric holds out his hand to me. “My wife, come to bed with me.” Come to bed with me. My wife.

I pick up the candelabra and place my other hand in his. Alaric’s fingers curl around me, cool and smooth and steady. “Let’s go to bed, husband.”

“If I would have known that destroying your ex is the way to get you into bed, I’d have brought out the testicle stringing rope on the first day.” A laugh bubbles up inside me, bursting warm against his lips. “That’s a lie. You didn’t want me when we first met. You thought I was an annoyance sent by Reginald to colour-code your teddy bears and throw away your swords.” “Winnie, from the moment I smelt you in the pub, you have possessed me utterly. I am already yours.”

“Alaric,” I gasp, looking up to meet his grin. “That was my favourite bra.” “I’ll buy you a new one. I’ll buy you all the frilly, lacey, not-corsets you desire as long as I can keep worshipping you and making you mine, wife.”

“Technically, it’s my bed.” “Technically, all things in Black Crag Castle belong to me.” His eyelashes tangle together as he blinks. “Even you.”

Ms Preston Lord Valerian asked me to pick up a new phone and number for you. His actual words were, “Winnie requires a new rectangle of annoyance, as hers has joined my ill-conceived attempts at knitting at the bottom of the cistern.” I have programmed Lord Valerian’s number in it for you, although he usually will not answer or reply to texts. He did ask me not to add your playlists, but I’ll leave that to your discretion. Yours, Reginald

“Unfortunately, Mother, you and Princess Chastain have travelled all this way in vain. For you see, I am already engaged to be wed.” I force my lips into a smile. “May I present my bride, Winnie Preston.”

must kiss you goodbye.” My cheeks heat. I flash back to the amazing, toe-curling kiss we shared at the pub, and all the kisses that have come after it. I can’t do that in front of his mother. Especially not when I don’t know what we are anymore. Alaric misunderstands my shock as consent. He moves in, his thighs brushing mine, one hand curling around my thigh. “They are watching. It will convince them that we are serious.”

What were to happen if you mixed these two jars together?” “Considering one of those is exfoliator and the other is protein-shake mix, not good things.”

Loving her will destroy me utterly. But I am more than ready to be ruined.

“I know it’s hard for you to let me see you being weak,” he murmurs. “You have always had to be so strong. You’re the one who cleans up everyone’s mess, so you never get to be a mess yourself. Well, I want to love you whether you are a quiet day or a raging hurricane. I want you to fall apart for me so I can love every piece of you. Give me your wounds, Winnie, and I will bleed for you.”

“Ow.” My hand flies to my head as Beth jabs another bobby pin into my skull. “Hold still, Winifred. I know what I’m doing.” “Yes. I loved your work on Hellraiser, but you’re turning me into a slice of Swiss cheese. Ow.” “A sexy Swiss cheese.” Beth grins as she twirls my chair around.

“If you are climbing out a window to escape wearing that dress, I’d like to point out that this tower is several stories above a shark-infested moat,” adds Arabella. “There are no sharks,” says Dora. “Winnie, please don’t believe her. There are no sharks.” “After you fall several stories into a moat, whether there are sharks or not is a moot point,” Arabella huffs.

“Reginald is so pleased to have you back.” Alaric sets down his empty goblet. “He loves having someone to cook for. You know that when he found out you left, he yelled at me.” “I don’t believe it.” Reginald has never raised his voice above a polite murmur. Never. “It’s true. He called me a most colourful assortment of names, none of which can be repeated in the company of a lady.” His tongue lashes against his lower lip, licking up a droplet of blood. “It was his idea to give you the key to Black Crag. He always believed you’d come back. He even helped me clean out the priest hole. Well, most of it.”