![]() Matthew's hands traveled from neck to shoulders. Eyes the color of a stormy sea looked into mine from a face so pale it could only belong to a vampire. "Open your eyes, Diana, and see for yourself." A feather-light touch of cool lips brushed my cheek, followed by a soft chuckle. There was a tang of wood smoke, too, and I heard the crackle of a fire. Among them was something grassy and sweet, along with a waxen smell that reminded me of summer. Even so, the unfamiliar scents told me I was not in my own time or place. "Are we in the right place?" My eyes were screwed shut in case we were still in Sarah's hop barn in twenty-first-century New York, and not in sixteenth-century Oxfordshire. A large book was squashed between us, and the force of our landing sent the small silver figurine clutched in my hand sailing across the floor. ![]() ![]() Matthew was underneath me, his long limbs bent into an uncharacteristically awkward position. We arrived in an undignified heap of witch and vampire. ![]()
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