Of Witches and Warlocks: The Complete Series

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

After a few minutes to calm down, I finally managed to coax Vance back to the party, where he put on a pretty good show of proper manners for the rest of the night. The only thing people found curious, including myself, was that he turned down every request anyone made to dance with me.

Laughing, he would explain he was still such a newlywed it was impossible for him to let me go anywhere without him. He stuck to me like glue the entire evening, breaking all the rules of propriety. By the end of the night, though, I think everyone thought he was charming in his devotion and affections toward me.

I, however, began to watch him a little closer, noticing his behavior was becoming ever more possessive. He seemed nervous to me, grabbing a glass of champagne every time a waiter passed, and quickly downing the contents. Something was obviously eating at him—I just didn't know what it was.

When the last of the guests departed, well after midnight, I was happy. After thanking Douglas and Fiona for the wonderful evening, I led Vance gently by the hand up the stairs to our room.

"What is going on?" I asked once we were safely inside with the door locked behind us.

"Portia, I'm losing my mind." Sinking to sit on the tufted bench at the foot of the bed, he looked completely dejected. Kneeling in front of him, I placed my hands gently on his knees.

"Can I help you somehow?" I asked, truly concerned by his attitude.

Staring deeply into my eyes for several long moments, not replying, his gaze never wavered. I waited, not pressuring him or trying to read the thoughts in his head, letting him decide when he was ready to speak.

"Something is wrong. I've felt funny ever since we stayed the first night here. Temperamentally, I get irritated by the smallest things, and I just have this constant itch to be with you. Physically, I mean. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, but something's different. It's almost an overwhelming need to be with you . . . all the time." He rubbed his hand through his hair in frustration. "I know I'm not making any sense. I always want to be with you, but this is something really intense. It's almost like the desires I had when I was going through the demon conversion."

That scared me more than anything else he could say.

"You aren't having some type of relapse, are you?" I asked in alarm, looking him over closely, searching for any of the telltale signs that the demon tendencies inside him might once again be rising to the surface. "We did just assume you'd been cured of everything. Could we have missed something?"

"I don't know." Shaking his head, he drew a hand lovingly over my cheek. "I'm not really noticing anything like withdrawal, and I haven't noticed any red eyes or anything."

Rising, he walked around me to go to the table where a new bottle of champagne was chilling in the room. He popped the cork and poured himself a large glass before turning to me.

"Do you want some?"

"No, thank you," I replied. "It doesn't settle well with me."

Quickly downing the entire contents of the glass, he poured himself another one.

Concern flooded me as I watched him. I'd never seen him drink like this. We both stayed pretty far away from alcohol in our lives, except for the small sip of wine here and there when performing rituals. I didn't say anything about it, though, figuring he needed it to calm his nerves.

He drank in silence, and I noticed after a few minutes he did seem a bit less antsy. I went and wrapped my arms around him.

"Do you feel better now?" I asked, hugging him.