Fanged Love - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,79
expect an answ—”
The curtain flies back, and naked Neli is in full shampoo mode, her hair covered in bubbles. “I am not your servant to command any longer!” She closes the curtain.
“No,” I mutter to myself, “I suppose you are not.” And then the realization hits me; what will I do without her? A problem to resolve another time, I suppose. At the moment, Neli needs my superior vampire guidance. And, possibly, vengeance. “But you are still family, and I demand to know who harmed you. Who is responsible for killing you?”
The water shuts off. She opens the curtain, and I hand her a towel from the rod on the wall. I have seen Neli’s birthday suit many times, and it is of no consequence to me; however, the paleness of her skin is like a dagger to the heart.
She is a vampire. I never wanted this for her. Correction, she never wanted this and, therefore, I am saddened by this turn of events.
She wraps the towel around her petite frame and then looks up at me. “I did it. It’s my fault.”
“How so?” I frown with confusion.
“Before I left France, I knew our mercenaries were still here, trying to catch the last hunter. They said they’d almost cornered him, but he slipped away. Then you and I spoke at the convention center and talked about Stella leaving France early. I rushed outside and immediately tried to call them so they wouldn’t be surprised and accidentally hurt her—they weren’t expecting any of us home until yesterday. But when I called, no one answered. I worried that something was wrong and caught the first plane here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you failed to make contact with the mercenaries? You only said you went to check on Stella in case any hunters were at her home.” I let out a groan. I hate that Neli did not trust me with this information, but part of me wonders if it is not my fault. I am not so forgiving when it comes to mistakes.
“What could you have done that I couldn’t? Also”—Neli blinks, tears forming in her eyes—“I didn’t want to disappoint you. You’re always saying how inferior I am, which is a total crock, but I knew you would never let me live this down. I’d be hearing about it for the next three centuries.”
She is correct, but that is still no excuse. “Stella could have been harmed. You were harmed. And that is more important than pride.”
“I know.” She sighs remorsefully. “I did manage to call in a favor with Vincente and ensure Stella encountered a few travel delays.”
“Vincente is still alive?” He is an old acquaintance from my Transylvania days, and as any vampire knows, there really is no such thing as immortality. Just ask Kylgorii. Sunshine happens.
“Yeah. He works for Homeland Security now. The night shift. He’s apparently very skilled at sniffing out bombs, and the benefits are really great—medical, dental, 401k.”
“So, in other words, he is still batshit crazy.” Vampires do not require such “benefits.”
“Exactly. Anyway, I got home early in the morning and wasn’t sure what to expect, so I snuck in through the secret tunnel in the wine cellar. Someone attacked me from behind, and then I woke up buried in a grave the next night.”
“So you do not know who killed you?”
“No. But I’m guessing it was one of our private security guys. They probably realized I wasn’t the hunter and tried to cover it up. There’s been no sign of them.”
“Or perhaps it was the vampire hunter who killed you.”
“No. He wouldn’t have bothered with burying me. I’d be charcoal dust right now.”
I am not so convinced. If they thought she was human, they would not have burned the body.
“Either way, I caught that last hunter. He was my first meal, and I’m afraid I forgot to question him before I dined.” Neli turns and heads into her bedroom. I follow. “I just wish I’d been more careful. I knew the mercenary guys were setting traps all over the place.”
Our own security did the deed? I will have their heads! “Oh, Neli. I am so very sorry that you will no longer be my major-dorko. I know it must distress you greatly; however, I assure you that you can continue to launder my shirts and run my winery.”
“Are you for real, Boz? My life is over! I’m a freakin’ vampire! And you’re talking about your shirts?”
“And running my winery,” I point out.
She huffs and