Tempest in a Teapot by Amy Cissell

Author:Amy Cissell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Broken World Publishing

eighteen

Donovan pulled into the parking lot of the small apartment building where he was staying, and Morgana’s nerves chose that minute to show up.

What was she doing? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d jumped into bed with someone, much less after such a brief acquaintance.

“Second thoughts?” Donovan asked.

“At least,” Morgana replied. “Although it is unlikely, it is still possible that you’re the murderer in all this, and I am about to place myself in a very vulnerable position.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m not going to hold you to it. If you want to watch some Wrestlemania and drink a Budweiser, we can do that as well.” Donovan opened the door, slid out, then walked around the pickup to open the door for Morgana.

“I would almost rather be a victim of blood magic than take you up on that offer. Wrestling and American lager are not particular interests of mine.” Morgana grinned tightly and accepted the hand he offered to help her out of the pickup.

“You’re nervous, though,” Donovan said.

“Not nervous, just cautious,” she corrected.

“Nope. You’re nervous. Your speech gets even more formal when you’re uncomfortable. When you’re around your friends, you almost relax. And earlier, when we were in the pickup together, you were downright casual.” Donovan took her hand and tucked it through his arm, leading her towards his apartment.

“My speech patterns do not change based on my mental state,” Morgana retorted. “I have a more formal mode of speech because I have lived for centuries, and I don’t choose to pick up the various slangs that come and go.”

Donovan smiled down at her. “Okay, sweetheart. Maybe after I make that lasting impression I promised, I’ll teach you some of the good slang.”

Almost against her will, Morgana found herself smiling back up at him. “You can try, but I think you’re a little young to be teaching me anything. It’ll probably be the other way around.”

“Whatever tricks you can teach me are welcome.” Donovan unlocked the front door of the complex, then ushered her inside.

His apartment was on the third floor of the three-story building, and she looked around curiously while he sorted through his mail. It was sparsely furnished, and what furniture there was looked worn but comfortable.

“I’ll have to find my own place,” Donovan said. “And get my own furniture. A fully furnished apartment sounded like a good idea until about five hours ago when I realized I’d have company.”

“It is only stuff. The appearance and wear doesn’t matter. As long as you are comfortable. And clean, of course.” Morgana sat on the overstuffed couch and tucked her legs underneath herself. A loud rip accompanied the movement. “Dammit. I forgot about this horrible skirt. I cannot wait until I can get rid of it.”

“You can take it off whenever you want,” Donovan said with a friendly leer, then continued with a more serious tone. “Would you like a robe and a glass of wine? That way you can get out of those clothes and relax a bit while we talk about the investigation.

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