Fanged Love - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,56
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