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.
Those simple words of care left Dili in a stupor. Coming from someone close, like her best friend Vanessa, such sweet words would have made Dili grin and feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Coming from a vampire, those four words meant so much more, even without the influence of blood magic.
And coming from the man she wanted to kiss again, those four sweet, simple words left her breathless and blinking without even a hint of magic.
Hadrian’s grin widened, but instead of pulling Dili back in close and cupping her chin to bring her lips to his like in her wanton wishes, he let her go, though his intrigued eyes lingered on her befuddled expression for a second longer. The vampire’s body might have been barely healed, but he still moved with far more agility and speed than Dili could ever manage. He’d fetched two rough-hewn bowls and was dragging a pelt from inside the hut toward the riverbank by the time she came back to her senses.
“There’s no need for that,” she said, waving him to put the pelt back. “We can go inside.”
Hadrian frowned, then jerked his head back toward the hut. “Won’t we wake them?”
Dili shook her head. “No. They don’t perceive us.”
The vampire’s frown deepened. “That seems odd.” Instead of questioning her, though, he shrugged. “If it’s all the same to you, I prefer it out here.”
Dili didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath as she let it out long. Fear flickered in her subconscious, reminding her that while those humans did not react to Hadrian or her, others in her memories could. She cleared her throat, pushing back against the niggling worry with the reassurance that there by that river, they were safe.
She nodded and gestured Hadrian forward. His smile returned as he placed the pelt near the riverbank. They sat down together, facing each other once more. He handed her a bowl with a sizeable chunk of bread. A whiff of the long-cold bread made Dili drool. She bit into it hungrily. Hadrian smiled bigger, spinning the other empty bowl in his palm as he watched her devour the bread in just a few bites.
“I’d bring you the rest of the loaf, but I’d hate to take the rest of their breakfast, even if they can’t see me,” Hadrian said with a trace of humor.
Dili didn’t answer with her mouth still mostly full. She may not have looked—or smelled—her best, but crumby gums were never acceptable. Or attractive. She held a finger up in a bid for patience, then rummaged through her right pocket one-handed. She retrieved a mason jar full of the gruel she’d made earlier, followed by the baby bottle, full with hours-old solution.
Hadrian’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the baby bottle, but he was neither insecure nor immature, so he didn’t make a comment to preserve his masculinity and he didn’t refuse when she held it out to him. He did unscrew the bottle tip off as quickly as his nimble fingers could, though.
The vampire closed his eyes as he chugged from the glass cup. It was Dili’s turn to watch him. The moonlight adorned him with silver, a sheen over smooth skin and a shimmer in his long hair. The way his pink lips pulled and his Adam’s apple bobbed mesmerized her. He let out a throaty moan in between gulps, and the sound imprinted on Dili’ssubconscious to be reexamined in sultry dreams.
Hadrian finished the solution before Dili had bothered to refill her empty bowl. A flush burned across her cheeks when his eyes blinked open and locked onto the still-sealed jar in her limp hand. Flustered by the flash of warm surprise across his face, she twisted the lid loose and drank from the jar, ignoring the bowl. An arrogant glint filled Hadrian’s eyes, but no teasing remark came. Instead, to her slight disappointment, the vampire turned his green eyes out across the river.
“You asked if I remember,” he began in a soft voice. “I think I remember everything until… well. I remember your cottage. I remember drinking the best synthetic I’ve ever tasted, and Nile, and that Toad and I were too slow.” He stopped for a long moment, and when he spoke again, tremulous fear wobbled his tone. “W-what happened to my disciple?”
The weight of Hadrian’s worry enveloped Dili like a warm blanket. Genuine care couldn’t be forged through magic alone. No matter that their time together had been short, Hadrian’s commitment to Toad already went beyond their contractual obligations. It made Dili’s heart soar, even though she hesitated to answer him.
“He’s safe—” she hoped, “—but it’s complicated. When you fell, the only thing I was certain of was that I would follow, but that I would follow alone. You’ve seen firsthand that it is not safe.”
Hadrian’s brow dropped low over his eyes, but he did not turn away from the view, nor did he interrupt her explanation.
“With you gone, Toad charmed into sleep, and Naddahdat invading my home, I only had so many options. So… I swore Naddahdat to a blood oath to protect and serve Toad and all his descendants until the end of time before I came after you.”
Dili clenched her fingers, expecting a less than enthused response, but to her surprise, a cackle as bitter as it was loud burst from Hadrian. It wracked his wiry frame, his chest heaving, his body falling back onto the pelt. He laced his fingers behind his head and offered the sky a venomous smile.
“Did you know she fears cats before you did that?” he asked.
Dili hadn’t, and suddenly she felt very, very hot. That personal detail combined with the spite in Hadrian’s tone made Dili reconsider the half-baked assumptions she’d made about the vampire’s association with the half-siren.
Hadrian glanced over at her when she stayed silent.
“I hope you don’t regret it,” he said in a rush. “I think Nile will benefit significantly from collaborating with cats, though it is a terrible burden to put on Toad.”
The vampire gave her a teasing smile, the long curve of his fang tempting distraction, and Dili offered her own polite chuckle in return. She didn’t find it that amusing, but was grateful he had misread her twinge of jealousy as a flare of guilt.
“All the more reason for us to return as quickly as possible. Though, knowing my familiar, I am sure he will manage just fine,” she said.
Hadrian twisted his neck to look at her past his elbow. “Well then, what are we waiting for?”
“Y-you.” Dili stammered. “You need to heal. Your body needs food, and rest, and time. You can’t just—”
The vampire grunted, then sprang to his feet. His body made a silver arc through the air, his long hair whipping round and then swinging behind him. Not so quickly that he blurred, but fast enough that Dili yelped. The startled sound pierced the calm night, sending birds squawking and frogs squeaking. She clapped a hand over her mouth.
Hadrian, crouched down in profile, one hand braced on the ground, the other on his knee, turned toward her. A wolfish grin stretched across his face.
“You make cute noises,” he rumbled.
The gravelly tone made his innocuous words sear through her thoughts. Then, he stood, stretching tall over her, and extended his hand down to her. Dashing emerald eyes full of confidence held hers.
“Come, First witch. See what I’m made of.”
Next chapter on Friday, January 16.