I’d been declared – over my loud and sustained protests – Pythia, the chief seer of the supernatural world.
You know, dulceata, there are times when I truly believe you are the most frightening person I know. Thank you?
One day, you will say it to me again. You will be sober. And you will mean it.
More worryingly, my baby fangs were out, which usually happened only when I was perilously close to tipping over into Mr. Hyde territory. I quickly drew them back in. It didn’t help much. I still looked like Dracula’s daughter. Which was completely unfair, since he’d only been an uncle.
It’s about time! It’s supposed to be a ritual, not a marathon.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d relied on his scowls or his shrugs or his grudging looks of approval to help me figure something out-until they weren’t there anymore. Or how I could talk to some people about a lot of things but only to him about everything. And how unbelievably valuable that was.
The most temptation I’d experienced had been with Tomas, the Senate’s spy who had been feeding off me without permission, and Mircea, who was probably plotting some nefarious scheme. I have no taste in men.
But you were Mine. My child. And I would not give you up.
Come and take your seat, Lady Dorina.
To know Pritkin was to want to kill him, but so far I’d resisted temptation.
This was Dante’s. Crazy was what we had for breakfast when we ran out of Corn Flakes.
I leaned back in my chair, stretching luxuriantly, delibrately letting my jacket fall open. Predictably, his eyes moved down my body-some things outlast even the change. I grinned and he looked away, a rueful smile twitching at his lips. I finished breakfast in peace.
I was tops at the Scarlet O’Hara school of emotional distancing. I always thought about the uncomfortable stuff tomorrow, and, as everyone knows, tomorrow never comes.
I barely heard him, I was too busy watching Pritkin, who had slumped over with his head on the sofa arm, shoulders shaking helplessly, and what looked suspiciously like tears leaking out from under his closed eyes. “Not that bad,” he muttered, and then he was off again.
Pritkin muttered something that sounded fairly vicious. “My clothes are warded! Even if I wished to accede to your demand, it would not work on them.” “Then strip.” “I beg your pardon?” He sounded almost polite suddenly, as if he believed he couldn’t possibly have heard right.
Mircea leaned over to refill my wineglass, and a section of his bare chest showed under the robe, along with a hint of dusky nipple. It’s a good thing I’m too stuffed to move, I thought hazily. I would so have jumped that.
I looked up, but had to crane my head back, leaving the features above me wrong-side up. The clear green eyes were the same, and, unfortunately, so was the spiky blond hair. It didn’t look any better from this angle, I decided.
Louis-Cesare. It’s good to finally have you in hand.
Nobody said anything that time. Or maybe I just wasn’t listening. After all, someone had to keep an eye on the fridge.
I thought there was a good chance the fridge was possessed. It was subtle about it, but I had its number. I knew its ways. Oh yes.
The Lord Protector and his hair got off the elevator.