Romancing The Dead Read Online Free PDF Page A

home. Sebastian and I were alone at last.
    “So,” he said as he closed the downstairs door. “What do you think? Anyone worth having?”
    Having? That was an interesting way of putting it. Was he thinking about having Blythe or just being inscrutably British? Instead of asking him that, I decided to swallow my jealous impulse. “I don’t know. Who did you like?”
    We started up the stairs. My bare feet slapped noisily on the hardwood. We were in the foyer, which was the public space between my apartment and the downstairs neighbors. The foyer had vaulted ceilings covered in pressed tin. The wainscoting was worn in places and the plaster was cracked, but you could still see the ghost of its former glory in the oak trim and the tulip bulb chandelier. I stepped past the blue recycling bins heaped with the neighbors’ cheap brown glass on my way to my apartment door.
    “Blythe seems promising,” Sebastian commented casually.
    I’ll bet. “You think?”
    “She’s studied a great deal. That sort of knowledge can be very useful.”
    Sebastian would be turned on by smarts. It was kind of his thing, being an alchemist himself. He approached a lot of things with an Age of Enlightenment kind of scientific approach. Me, I’m like Barbie; math is hard. Sebastian held the door to my apartment for me like a gentleman, and I slipped through under his arm. As I passed, I caught the scent of him—a strangely compelling combination of axle grease and cinnamon.
    “Yeah, but book smarts will only take you so far in real practice,” I said.
    “I’d like to give her the benefit of the doubt.”
    Hmmm, there was so much I could say to that, but I couldn’t seem to formulate any response other than pursed lips.
    “What about you?” Sebastian asked as he flopped himself down on to the couch. “Anyone you liked?”
    “Griffin,” I said just to be argumentative.
    Half-filled plastic cups and potato-chip crumbs littered my apartment. Despite the postparty/postapocalyptic décor, I couldn ’t summon the energy required to tidy up. Just looking at the clock on the wall made my eyes gritty and my throat scratchy with a desire for sleep. Cleanup would have to wait until morning.
    “You liked the metalhead?”
    I settled into the oversized beanbag on the floor opposite Sebastian. It smelled a little like nacho dip and someone else’s aftershave. I made a mental note to spray down the vinyl with Lysol later. “You just don’t like him because he gave you grief.” Plus, despite the death-metal look, he was kind of cute.
    “Well,” Sebastian said, sitting forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It does present some problems if he remains resistant to me.”
    Resistant to him? Did he want to have everyone in Thrall so he could have them for lunch? My lips twisted up before I could stop them.
    “What’s that look for?” he demanded.
    “I think it’s good to have someone in the group who pushes a bit, someone who doesn’t take everything on faith. I think it makes the coven more honest.”
    Sebastian’s eyes roamed over me for a long moment before he spoke. “I get it,” he said. “He’s like you used to be.”
    “Hardly,” I laughed. “I was the earth-mother sort. Birkenstocks and hemp skirts.”
    “Yeah, but you were the one who riled things up, weren’t you? Who asked the questions no one else would.”
    I gave in to a smile. “Yeah, I guess I was.”
    “All right then. You can have Griffin if I can have Blythe.”
    Again with the “having.” “Okay,” I grudgingly agreed, hoping we were only talking about coven membership and not anything more.
    “Anyone else?” Sebastian asked. His eyes glittered with excitement. Despite being able to wander about in the daylight, nighttime energized Sebastian. I could tell he was ready and willing to spend all hours debriefing and comparing notes. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I didn’t have his superhuman stamina.
    “Can we talk about it in bed?” I