Fanged Love - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,1
into the kitchen, and I am hit with blinding lights.
Instinctively, I hiss and throw my arms over my face. It takes only a moment to realize that these lights are not from the sun. If they were, I would be charred by now.
Slowly, I lower my arms and take in the strange objects before me. Large shiny metal boxes that hum like a swarm of bees. Lights that give no real heat. Floors made from polished stones I have never seen.
What sorcery is this? “Neli!”
Suddenly, the door from the connecting parlor flies open.
“Boz?” Neli’s green eyes are wide with shock. “OMG! You’re awake?”
“Yes, girl. Plain to see! Now tell me what the hell is going on. What are these—” I sweep my hand toward the tallest of the shiny metal boxes making all sorts of unnatural noises off in the corner “—objects? And do not tell me you have once again traded my gold for Gypsy trinkets and black magic, or I will skin you alive!”
Neli stands there dumbfounded in her odd-looking clothing—extra-long dark blue breeches and some white shirt that hugs her form, but provides no support. Very indecent. Her long red hair is still the same, however.
“Where is your corset? And, woman, what is on your feet? Put on proper attire this instant!” She appears to be standing on pieces of toasted bread, her toenails painted red and hanging out in the open air. I never!
Neli blinks at me and clears her throat, but words do not leave her mouth.
“Well, girl, do not simply stand there like a speechless Carpathian boar. What do you have to say for yourself?” I cross my arms over my chest. That is when I notice something frightful. My arms are thinner than I recall. I glance down at the rest of my body. I resemble a weathered scarecrow.
I whip my gaze to hers, silently demanding an explanation.
“Sir, welcome back.”
“Wha-where have I been, Cornelia?”
“Asleep, sir. For five hundred years.”
CHAPTER TWO
Boz
Five hundred years? I am in no mood for Cornelia and her silly little games. “Cease with the theatrics, girl, and bring me my supper. I will take it in my quarters.” I march from the kitchen, heading for my bedchamber upstairs. While I prefer to slumber somewhere hidden and windowless, I find the luxury of coffins and cellars to be lacking. My chamber is a lavishly appointed suite with two fireplaces, fine tapestries, and oil paintings of my master, his master before him, and some of my own artistic creations. For example, a peach that I am quite proud of. The fuzz is sublime. “And tell Bogdana to bring up the water for my bath!” I yell over my shoulder as I enter the parlor and come to a halt.
“What the devil?” I mutter. Who gave permission to redecorate this room? My red velvet chairs have been replaced with disgusting beige things with sharp angles and no wood. I poke at one. Hmm…soft. I pivot and take in the room, noticing that my fruity artwork has been replaced by enormous paintings of wine bottles. The tall ceiling and fireplace are the only things that remain the same. “Neli!”
“Stop yelling. I’m right behind you.”
I startle and jump. “Do not sneak up on me like that. How many times have I told you to…” I notice a flat-looking object behind her on the wall. A man and woman are trapped inside. “What is that? How did they get inside?” I point with a shaking finger.
Neli groans and walks over to the thing.
I hold out my hand. “Do not touch it! You do not know what sort of witchcraft those tiny people are capable of.”
She ignores me, presses something on the side of the box, and the people disappear.
Where did they go?
“It’s not witchcraft.” Neli faces me. “It’s called a TV, one of many inventions you’ve missed out on—” she raises her voice and continues “—while you’ve been asleep for five hundred years!”
I stare at her, wondering where my sword is hidden. Clearly, Cornelia has gone mad. I must put her out of her misery and remove her head.
“OMG. What’s it going to take for you to believe me?”
“Why do you keep calling me OMG? That is not my title. I am Prince Bozhidar, same as yesterday, girl.”
“Ugh. Fine.” She marches over to the wall and grabs a beveled mirror that has been placed there for some odd reason. Mirrors belong in the dressing chamber, not in the parlor. She marches back and holds it up