I’d felt it. That weird drugged feeling, not as strong as he did it now but I felt it. I always thought it was the oppressive heat of Aunt Fiona’s kitchen. She had bad ventilation and frying chicken for seventy-five guests heated up a kitchen, believe you me.
“Why would you do that? There were no vampires there.”
“Yes there were.”
Wow. I didn’t know that. I’d been in the presence of vampires before.
“Really?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Did Aunt Fiona tell you about me?”
“As much as she knew. She liked talking about you. She’s very fond of you, thinks you have spirit. She also kept an eye on you for me.”
Holy crap!
What on earth did that mean?
“An eye on me?” I prompted.
He nodded again.
“What does that mean?”
“She told me what you were up to,” his face grew dark, “and who you were with when you were up to it.”
He didn’t look happy.
I figured I was less happy.
“Are you saying Aunt Fiona informed on me?” My voice was pitching higher.
“Yes.” He was back to seeming unperturbed.
This was unreal!
“So, essentially, she spied on me.”
“Not with that, no. Fiona listened, she watched and she told me. She’d also tell me where you were. Then I spied on you.”
My body jerked again.
“What?”
“It wasn’t exactly spying,” he continued casually, “more like watching. It was highly enjoyable. You’d get up to practically anything and you’ve a very expressive face, pet.”
I couldn’t take this in. The Mighty Vampire Lucien was a stalker!
“Why…” I spluttered. “Why would you do that?”
“It amused me. You amused me.” He studied my face and muttered, “Most of the time, you still do.”
“You stalked me!” It wasn’t a shout. Cousin Myrna wouldn’t shout. But it was pretty damn close.
“You can’t stalk what’s yours,” he returned.
I looked at his shirt. “Yes, I suspect that’s what all the stalkers say.”