Die for Her A Die for Me Novella

trying to protect Vincent and you . . . and all of us. Now that it’s too late for that, well, please accept my apology.”
    She watches me quizzically, as if she’s trying to decide whether I’m serious or not. And then she picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder. “I totally understand,” she says. And she gives me a lips-closed smile with a teasing sparkle in her eye. “I’m a mere mortal. What else could you do?”
    This girl is oozing with graceful charisma, like a teenage Audrey Hepburn, and I totally get what Vincent sees in her. Knowing she’ll probably be around a lot, I really pour on the charm.
    I press my hand to my chest. “Whew—she forgave me.” And I step toward her so that only a few inches of space separate us. “You’re sure you don’t need me to walk you home?” I say, lifting an eyebrow and giving her my most flirtatious smile.
    She refuses, but blushes deeply—hot pink spreading across her cheeks. As usual, I feel a wild rush of success. I love flirting more than food. Or even fighting. And evoking a blush is one of the most satisfying results I can hope for.
    I like this girl , I find myself thinking. I’m actually looking forward to her being around.
    The next week Vincent comes home two days in a row with this grin on his face that’s got to mean he’s been hanging with Kate.
    “So you’re going to keep her to yourself,” I joke with him as we jog down the stairs to the armory. “Finally we’re allowed to have a pretty girl in the house and you’re hoarding her.”
    “No, I’m not,” he insists. “Ambrose is going as Kate’s sister’s date with us this Saturday.”
    “Um, excuse me,” I say, grabbing a pair of short swords off the wall. “Best friend, here? The guy who is always offering to set you up with hot babes, and you leave me out ?”
    “Jules. Saturday. You’re volant,” he reminds me as he chooses his own weapon: a Japanese katana.
    “Oh, right,” I admit. “But that still doesn’t mean I can’t tag along. You guys could use some ghostly backup if you’re going to be out on the town with two very distracting ladies on your arms.”
    Vincent laughs and faces me in a two-handed assault pose. “I knew you’d want to come. I was just waiting for you to ask. You know . . . grovel a bit after treating Kate so rudely.”
    I lift my swords. “Dude, I’m done with the groveling, and fair Kate agreed to forgive me my misdeeds.”
    “Did she, now?” Vincent asks, looking amused. “I can only imagine the way that you apologized.” And he launches toward me, swinging his sword downward to strike my crossed blades. I pull the short swords apart in an upward thrust, sending Vincent back a step.
    “Hey, pouring on the charm is what I do best,” I say between breaths, and ready my stance for his next lunge. “What can I do? The ladies can’t resist me.”
    When we meet Kate and Georgia at the Métro station, I immediately see a kindred flirtatious spirit in the sister as she coos over Vincent and Ambrose in turn. The sisters couldn’t be more different in looks, but there’s still something there that says, We share genes. However, it’s Kate who attracts my attention. She’s glowing. Radiant. No trace of Sad Girl left.
    Georgia answers her phone, and Vince and Ambrose start talking about whether or not they should go to the place Georgia suggested, which happens to be in a numa-frequented neighborhood.
    Hey, Ambrose , I say, interrupting, tell Kate ‘Hi, beautiful’ from her ghostly lothario . He laughs and tells Kate what I said, winning me my second blush in one week.
    “Hey, watch it,” Vincent jokes.
    Tell her it’s a shame she had to fall for someone as boring as you. Being an older, more experienced man, I know how to treat a lady. Vincent roars with laughter. “Looks like someone’s got a crush,” he says, and then relays my message.
    Kate gives this flattered smile as Vincent reminds me that even though I’m technically twenty-seven years older than he is, at the moment, we’re both nineteen.
    We take the Métro to Denfert, then walk a few minutes down a pedestrian street to Georgia’s restaurant, only to find a large crowd outside waiting for tables. While Georgia goes in to cajole one of her friends into getting us in, I decide to take a quick spin around the neighborhood. And within seconds I feel that disturbing, about-to-be-sucked-into-a-black-hole feeling that I always get when numa are around. I move