Page 63 of The Hunter’s Affection

“How did you manage to get her out in public?” Toni nodded to Charlotte. “Like this?”

Putting his drink on the bar, he grabbed Charlotte and pulled her toward him, right between his legs. “Cute, right?”

Toni laughed. Laria’s eyes widened. And Charlotte’s lips parted just enough to make it necessary for him to shift uncomfortably on the barstool.

Lawrence, thankfully, was behind him. The last thing he wanted to see right now was his brother’s obvious disapproval of the situation.

“So what do you guys think we should do with the vault?” Toni asked.

Everyone turned toward the south end of the room where the large steel vault remained closed along the wall.

“Are you still thinking of putting a table in there?” Laria asked.

“I love that idea. Like a special seat,” Charlotte said.

“Exactly!” Toni’s excitement made him smile. His brother was a pain in the ass, but this had been his dream for many years. And he had someone to share it with.

A prospect that sounded slightly less terrifying to him than it once might have.

“Have you thought of that as a name?” he asked.

They’d been tossing about names for weeks, but so far nothing had stuck. “The Vault. If you’re going to make that space usable—”

“I love it. Oh my God, Lawrence! What do you think?” Toni darted behind the bar and grabbed both of Lawrence’s hands. He turned to look at them, awed by the love and reverence he saw in their eyes.

A vampire and a human. So messy and complicated, possibly even doomed. And yet he sat here contemplating the same thing for himself. A shiver ran down his spine and he looked at Charlotte, who winked at him as he often did to her.

Was he seriously considering . . .

“It’s perfect,” Lawrence answered. “The Vault.”

Apparently their argument was over, for now. Lawrence had already reached under the bar and produced five shot glasses. He filled them with vodka and sambuca, and each of them grabbed one of the celebratory drinks.

“To The Vault,” Lawrence said.

Clinking glasses, they all drank, differences temporarily put aside.

He and his siblings heard the shuffling at the same time. The front door of the bar was about to be opened. A barely discernible click had all three of them turning to the door, waiting for the inevitable. When it did open, Torr didn’t know what to think. Toni’s aunt and uncle walked in, Jim holding a scarred brown book. Could it be?