Boz
I excuse myself from the after-dinner drinks for two reasons: One, I am quite thirsty, and being around Stella this evening is proving more difficult than I thought. All throughout dinner, as I pretended to eat a very rare steak—just about the only solid food I can tolerate chewing before discreetly spitting it out—I felt something in my chest. An odd sensation. A tightening or squeezing brought on every time I gazed into Stella’s warm brown eyes. Then a loud pulsing sound began, as if I were listening to her heart pumping inside my own chest.
She is my mate? It cannot be. It simply cannot. But what other explanation is there? I have heard many tales of a vampire’s heart beating anew when they find their one true love, but since I have never personally witnessed it or known a vampire who experienced the phenomenon, I simply dismissed it as legend or wishful thinking from inexperienced new vampires who are unfamiliar with the process of feeding. There is a moment when the victim’s pulse begins to quicken and their blood courses through your veins with a pulsing heat. The sensation can be so engrossing, so utterly hypnotic that one loses themselves in it.
Which results in snack time becoming hide-the-body time. Bad vampire. However, that was not what I experienced tonight.
Christ. I run my hand over the top of my now short hair while walking casually along a narrow street, attempting to deal with reason number two for not joining Stella and Neli for a nightcap: one of those damned vampire hunters followed us here! He must’ve seen the itinerary in Neli’s office back at the castle. Or perhaps he overheard one of our conversations. If the team of mercenaries back home are as good as Neli claims, they are setting up and cleaning house, including Stella’s attic, this very evening while the employees are away; however, that does not help us here in France.
Now I will have to deal with two problems: Keeping my hands off Stella, and killing this pesky hunter myself. Unfortunately, I have come to learn that Neli was right to warn me about the technologenie, which I now understand is simply a term for a very large system of intrusive electronics. Perhaps calling it a genie makes humans feel more at ease with being spied on by their leaders, because these watchful electronic eyes, called cameras, are everywhere—stuck on the sides of buildings, inside those Beemer storage buildings, and even married to those lights that direct traffic. Why do modern humans permit such a lack of privacy? Makes it very difficult to be a vampire. The only thing in my favor is that this city has many old neighborhoods, where the streets are dark and the buildings are free of these electronic eyes.
I plan to take a nice long stroll and hopefully lure the vampire hunter. After he is dealt with, I must decide what to do with Stella. I am only one heartbeat away from losing control and making her mine.
Her father would be very cranky with me.
Several hours later, despite circling back toward the hotel multiple times, in hopes the hunter would see me and follow, I abandon the plan and turn my focus on dinner. I cannot deny that the women in this town are very yummy—they drink such good wine—but I am left with a hunger I cannot sate. It is a hunger for a woman I do not wish to harm. I can only hope the warm Bordeaux-infused blood flowing through my veins is enough to keep my other urges in check.
In any case, it is nearly one in the morning now, and Stella should be asleep. She and her family will attend the competition with Neli tomorrow, and I will meet everyone after sunset to congratulate them on their win. I am confident that our entry will be given very high praise. Afterward, I will excuse myself and try once more to find this hunter and turn him into potting soil. Perhaps, while I slumber, Neli can find out where he is staying.
I enter the grand lobby of the Argent de Doigt d’Hôtel with its oversized indoor trees, vaulted stained-glass ceilings, and elegant crystal chandeliers. The man behind the counter greets me with a nod. I am almost to the elevator, a very ingenious closet that moves one from floor to floor, when I catch the most exquisite scent of roses. Stella…she is near.
I turn my head and spot her through the open doorway just off the lobby, sitting at a table near the bar, one leg crossed over the other in a way that exposes one bare leg from knee to ankle. Do not go to her, Boz. Do not do it. I cannot seem to leave. The soft lighting in the wood-paneled space bathes her skin in a radiant glow, and her long dark hair shines as it cascades over the back of her pale pink floral dress. I clench my fists and shut my eyes. If the witch’s curse is real, giving in to my desire will result in my destruction. Not to mention, the very real possibility of Stella’s. If she is truly my mate, then I will be driven to turn her. And to destroy such a precious creature is not my wish. I know this is what Neli wants. She likely ensured Stella would be here for me to find. I quickly pull out the Summoner and send a note:
Prince Bozhidar: You and I will have words tomorrow, little matchmaker devil.
I notice the squiggling dots indicating that she is responding. I turn and quickly make my way toward the elevator while she likely composes an apologetic reply.
Neli: Don’t look at me, dude. Destiny is all. Can’t outrun it.
Prince Bozhidar: Don’t you dare quote Uhtred. He is a great warrior!
Uhtred is that fellow we were watching on the tiny portable theater during the aeroplane ride here. I rather enjoyed the way he beheaded his enemies in his Last Kingdom. It was also nice to escape to the gritty, filthy warmth and simplicity of the medieval era. Ah, nothing like home.
Neli: And you were once a great warlord. So stop being such a wuss, and go claim your woman! She’s waiting for you in the hotel bar. Chicken. Bock. Bock. Bock.
I growl. I knew it! Neli is my trusted ally, but like any female, she cannot be discouraged from her goals once she sets her sights on something. It is very annoying.
Prince Bozhidar: Your fowl words do not sway me. Now, please try to find out where our hunter is staying so that I may address the issue properly tomorrow evening. Good night!
The elevator chimes, and I am about to step inside when I hear Stella’s voice. “Boz! Hey.”
I groan, feeling the push and pull. I should go to my room. I should break into the Musée d’Aquitaine to see the Venus of Laussel—a stone carving of an ancient woman scratching herself. I should find a café table in the plaza, sip wine, and compliment the fashionable American tourists passing by and showing off their Must Have Tees. I should do anything but go to her.
“Boz?” she calls out again.
Against my will, I feel a smile curl on my lips, and my body turns. “Stella, you are awake.” What am I doing? Dammit, man. No!
Stella makes a little wave, and her face lights up with a smile. I am done for.
I stroll over, my resolve melting away like a piece of ice on a hot, sunny sidewalk.
“I think I slept too much on the plane, and now I’m wide awake. Join me?” She glances at the chair directly to her left. The ambiance is dark, cozy, and romantic. A couple sits closely in the corner, whispering very erotic words between them—vampire ears hear all. Three women and a man, wearing formal clothing, sit at the long mahogany bar, sipping a fine red port with notes of caramel and currants. I can smell it from here. But nothing is more delicious than the woman before me. Roses. Purity. My little virgin…
I take a seat next to her, and our eyes lock. My heart jars inside my chest. Dear gods. The beating in my chest feels even stronger now. It must be true that a vampire’s heart beats anew when they are with their one true love. She is my lobster, to quote my wise friend Phoebe.
But I cannot dine on my lobster.
“So, where did you come in from?” she asks. “I thought you were going to bed early.”
“I meant to, yes; however, I could not sleep. Went out for a stroll.”
“Oh. Maybe I should have done that. It’s just, I’m so nervous about tomorrow. Everything’s riding on this competition.”
Why must she say the word “riding”? An image of her doing just that hits me like a spike to the brain and lodges there: Her creamy soft skin glowing with the light of a crackling fireplace, her hair wild and loose down her back, her pert young breasts bobbing as her hips rock while she rides my cock and—
I clear my throat, feeling my shaft press uncomfortably against my trousers. “I am confident our wine will do well in the competition.”
“You’re just saying that to be nice.”
“I would not put my eight hundred years of winemaking reputation on the line if I did not feel it was worthy.”
Stella tilts her head to one side. “Eight hundred years?”
“I meant my family’s reputation. I come from a very long line of Romanian winemakers.”
“Oh wow. Is that where your family is originally from?”
The beating sound in my chest is so loud I can hardly hear her words, and the stiffness in my cock is not helping my listening abilities.
I nod. “Yes. We are from Romania, as is our wine. The vines we grow today are from the same seeds I planted—I mean my great-grandfather-many-times-over planted.”
“That’s fascinating. And it explains why your wines are so delicious.” She reaches out and sets her hand over mine, her lips dancing with a seductive smile. “Just like the winemaker.”
A jolt of electricity surges through me, and I jerk my hand away.
The look of shame on her face is instant. “Oh God. I’m so sorry. It’s just that Neli said—I just thought that—never mind.”
“No. Please do not misunderstand me.” I lower my voice so only she can hear. “You are a very beautiful woman. But I am a very complicated man with a very complicated life. I do not wish to embroil you in it.”
Stella gazes down at her nearly empty glass of wine. Why she is drinking the house wine, I do not know. “Allow me to get you another glass of wine, and then I shall see you to your—”
“No. I’m good.” She smiles, but I see the corners of her lips struggle to remain lifted. She is upset. “I should go.”
I catch her wrist as she stands, and the electricity that was just now buzzing through me gives her a jolt.
Her eyes go wide. “Ohmygod, Boz. What was that?”
My face contorts awkwardly. “Static electricity?”
I think my secret is out. She knows there is magic between us.