Fanged Love - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,55

never be the reason a couple breaks up, but I can’t shut off my feelings. I can only try to hide them.

My mom turns to us the moment Boz and I step outside to join everyone. “Neli just told us the hotel we’re staying at is supposed to be haunted. They have a tour of the suite where they say you can feel the chill of the old widow pass through you.”

I cross my arms, rubbing the goosebumps. “No, thank you. Bad enough I hear creaks in our old house at night. I might not believe in ghosts, but I could still have nightmares.”

My dad wags his finger at me. “Remember when Stella used to have that recurring vampire nightmare after Kevin snuck up on her the day before Halloween—”

“Wearing his fake vampire teeth!” Mom finishes. “Oh, Lord, it took forever to convince her it was just Kevin. And even longer for the nightmares to stop.”

I sigh. “I’m fine as long as I stay away from creepy stuff.”

My parents shake their head over the memory. The twins are busy whispering to each other, shooting glances over at Boz, their new crush. Boz gazes into my eyes somberly. He already knew about my childish nightmares, but clearly he feels bad that I’m being reminded of it now.

“We’ll skip the ghost tour,” Neli says. “Let’s head back for a nightcap at the hotel lounge. It’s a beautiful space.” We’re all staying at the same historic hotel.

“I’ll take the twins on the tour and back to bed,” Mom says as we head toward the hotel.

“I’m beat,” Dad says. “Jet lag’s catching up to me.”

“I could go for a drink,” I say. “I napped this afternoon, and I’m wide awake.”

“Perfect!” Neli says.

Boz gives me a sideways look that almost seems sad. “I too have the jet lag. You and Neli should go discuss whatever women discuss.”

“Mostly we talk about men,” I say casually before catching up to Neli. I don’t miss his dropped jaw.

That’s right, Boz. I’m about to get the dirt on you.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

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