Fangs and Fur- Beta Read Along
All rights reserved. Copyright © 2025 by LA Magill. All distribution rights reserved for the exclusive use of Wicked Women LLC.
Hadrian paused before the threshold of Dili’s cottage, and this time, she couldn’t tow him forward as she pleased. She turned around and appraised the way he braced against her hold, his eyes on the door instead of her.
“Please come in, Hadrian,” she said. He couldn’t deny it.
His lips parted, and Dili couldn’t help her gaze darting down from his conflicted green eyes. The moonlight painted those soft lips and gleamed on his white teeth. Even though the tips of his fangs didn’t emerge, she could see them so clearly. Curiosity bloomed within her desire at the sight of them.
“Dili, I….”
Hadrian stared at her helplessly. His dark eyes grew wide and wary when moments before they’d shone with overwhelming power.
“Things were always complicated. That won’t change inside by the fire,” she said calmly.
Hadrian gulped, but she felt the hesitation melt from his grip, so she drew the vampire into her home. Naturally, Toad appeared from the shadows of the garden without a single sound and slipped in through the door just behind Dili’s legs, and a step in front of Hadrian. It was her familiar’s home first, even if he approved of his vampiric master.
Dili didn’t hold on when Hadrian’s hand went limp and fell from her grasp. He turned and shut the door behind them, then stood awkwardly next to it. A smug satisfaction came over her at seeing him so nervous. The first time he’d barged into her home, he’d oozed enough arrogance to sop the floors. She didn’t want to rub his face in his newfound sense of decency, but she wouldn’t make it easy for him, either. He’d have to earn his next kiss, and following up on breaking one of Dili’s spells was already a high bar to top.
She watched him observing her as she woke the kitchen up a few hours earlier than usual. First, reminding the embers from the previous evening’s fire how to flame. Second, fluffing up Toad’s blanket on the chair as close to the hearth as Dili allowed. Third, the kettle.
“Do you prefer tea or coffee?” she asked without turning around.
“I’m not fond of either.” He sounded dazed.
Dili paused rummaging around in her right pocket and glanced at him over her shoulder. She frowned. His skin had turned a sallow color with the warm light splashing across his cheeks. Cheeks that were too hollow considering how much he’d fed from her bloodbag. It had been hours since, but surely not enough to drain his magic supply after overindulging. She supposed he could have used up a considerable amount of magic up against Zef’s bolts.
“More synthetic?” she asked.
His focus snapped to hers, and then he blurred. Only for a fraction of a second, and so fast that she didn’t know how far he’d made it across the room toward her before he’d returned to the same spot by the door.
She sniffed, and narrowed her eyes at him. “At least you’ve recovered a hint of some manners. Take a seat.”
Hadrian obeyed. Thankfully, Dili hadn’t put away Vanessa’s chair from the night before. Usually, only her chair stood at the small table. The space looked so much smaller with Hadrian’s long legs and larger frame filling the other seat, but cozy instead of cramped.
The witch suddenly realized that she wouldn’t have to put that chair away. Not for a long time, if she didn’t want to, and if Hadrian wanted…
She didn’t chase the end of that thought, because one kiss was enough to spiral into silly dreams. That wasn’t a bad thing, and Dili delighted in the fact that there was still a part of her that fantasized with silliness, but she’d lived long enough to know those thoughts weren’t worth chasing. It was better to enjoy the living.
Serenity settled in her body, grounding her bones and easing her mind, as she retrieved the fresh batch of synthetic blood. The intensity of his stare bored into her back as she poured a large horn full. She placed both on the small table, and Hadrian practically shook in his chair.
“Enjoy,” she said.
The vampire downed Dili’s brew like it was ambrosia. Of course, ambrosia was poisonous to vampires, but Hadrian’s visible euphoria reminded her of how humans worshipped the nectar of the gods with each gulp, rather than how she’d seen gluttony overcome a hungry vampire.
Dili made herself an herbal tea with ginger and turmeric to warm against the chill outside. She’d need caffeine later. She sat down opposite Hadrian, but the vampire didn’t react. As she sipped her tea, he drained the horn over and over, refilling the vessel quickly each time it ran dry. Dili appreciated the restraint—she’d didn’t want to mend more shredded leather.
She still had half a cup left when the bag ran dry. Hadrian’s eyes dimmed for a moment when he realized he’d finished it. He cradled the empty horn in both hands, staring into the bottom as if it held a treasure he couldn’t reach.
“This is…” the vampire paused, his voice rough. “Your synthetic blood is the best I’ve ever tasted.”
Warmth seeped from the cup into her palms, but it wasn’t the same heat that made her blush. “I’m glad it helps.”
Dili didn’t probe further. She suspected her brew probably was the best in the world—eons of practice had its advantages—but talking about her powers would only lead back to questions about her identity. Questions she had no answers for, even if part of her whispered that she should.
Hadrian set the horn down with a soft clink. His gaze lifted to hers, and the weight in those green eyes made her chest tighten.
“Dili, I need to tell you something.” He swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I can’t shake the last thing Nile said to me.”
Her mouth went dry even though she’d just taken a sip. She waited instead of replying. Hadrian appraised her silence, his mouth twisting with discomfort, but he didn’t drop her gaze.
“She said you have something. A key.” His hands curled into claws around the horn. “To the first witch’s grave.”
Dili blinked. “What?”
“In your left pocket,” he said.
Her left…? She glanced down at her dress, her hand instinctively brushing her right hip where her pocket bulged with supplies. Her left side felt… flat. Empty. There was nothing—
“I don’t have a left pocket,” she said slowly.
Hadrian’s jaw tightened. “Nile was very specific.”
“Then Nile is wrong.” Dili’s voice sharpened. “Or lying. Probably both.”
Toad, who’d been dozing on his blanket by the hearth, suddenly lifted his head. His ears swiveled toward Hadrian, then he stood, stretched, and padded over to leap into the vampire’s lap. Hadrian barely seemed to notice, but his eyes unfocused slightly—that telltale glaze of a conversation Dili couldn’t hear.
Her anxiety spiked. “What is he saying?”
Hadrian didn’t answer. His brow furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. Toad’s tail swished once, twice, then stilled.
“Hadrian—”
“May I?” Hadrian’s voice came out hoarse. “May I reach into your left pocket? Just to check?”
“No.” The word came out harder than Dili intended, but her heart pounded against her ribs. Something about the request felt… wrong. Not because she distrusted Toad, not because she couldn’t trust Hadrian, but because the question itself scraped against a part of her mind that recoiled.
Hadrian closed his eyes. Toad mewled softly, kneading his paws into the vampire’s thigh. Another mute conversation passed between the vampires, and the exclusion riled her worry as it jabbed her sensitivity.
When Hadrian finally opened his eyes again, his expression had softened. “You’re right. We can’t trust Nile. Not completely.” He exhaled slowly, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. “Maybe it’s in your right pocket?”
Dili hesitated. “No, I don’t keep any keys in there because they get jumbled up with everything else too quickly. It’s… just storage. Magical storage.”
Hadrian squinted at her. “Storage for what?”
“Supplies and ingredients. I never know if I’m going to need a rope or a scalpel or a fertilizer, so I just bring it all with me.”
“Any divine relics or ancient treasures or cursed objects?” he asked.
“Certainly. I have lots of magical supplies, but I have never heard of the first witch’s grave, let alone a key,” she said, growing impatient.
“How much does that pocket hold?” he asked.
“Enough.”
“Dili—”
“Why does it matter?” She set her cup down with more force than necessary. The last of her tea sloshed over the rim. “What are you really asking me?”
Hadrian opened his mouth, then closed it. For a long moment, he just stared at her, a nameless need pulsing behind his eyes. Then his shoulders sagged.
“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t know what I’m asking. I just… I need—”
*Chapters 20-22 have been modified to blend the end of volume 1 and the start of volume 2 together. The final publication will read differently, though the general plot points will remain the same. Learn more on my blog.
Next chapter on Friday, December 5.