The Real Werewives of Vampire County - By Alexandra Ivy Page 0,51
bimbo nearly trampled her on the way to go see a vampire.
“Why did Bliss cancel?” I asked. “I really wanted to meet her.” And her little dog, too.
Nina shrugged. “Why does Bliss do anything?”
I’d like to find out.
“Wait.” I needed to talk to Nina, too. My brain felt like cotton.
“Why are you cringing?” Nina asked, as I prepared to draw my powers out once again.
My head felt like it was going to split in half. I rubbed at my temples as I used all of my strength to draw a line between us.
“Mmm,” she said, bringing the fruity wine to her lips. “That tickles.”
At least her mind was open. It felt like walking through a soap bubble.
Even so, I knew I wouldn’t last long. I hadn’t even found a private place to question her. “Francine said Sunny was blackmailing you.”
“I’ll say. She was taking me for five thousand dollars a month.”
No way would I get deep enough to ask if she was the killer. I was surprised I’d gotten into her mind in the first place.
“Why was Sunny blackmailing you?”
Nina took a sip of wine, holding her glass to the side with two fingers. “She caught me giving my personal chef a bonus.”
“That doesn’t seem so bad.”
“On the dining room table.”
My brain was fuzzy, yet another side effect. “Well, he is a chef.”
“We weren’t eating, babe.”
Oy. I didn’t need that mental picture.
She noticed my discomfort and answered it with a sultry smile. “Oh, don’t be a prude. My husband doesn’t eat. I don’t eat. Our personal chef has to do something.”
“Just shoot me now.” These people were all nuts.
She tilted her head and studied me. “No. If I was going to kill you, I’d maul you.” She grinned. “Or just smack you with a chandelier, right?”
“What?” I demanded. But it was no use. The connection fizzled out. I had nothing left. Nina didn’t even notice.
She bent closer. “You don’t look so good.” She shook her wine goblet, the half-melted ice at the bottom sloshing from side to side. “You’d better lay off the hooch.”
I stumbled backward. I’d never questioned two people in one night and now I knew why. There wouldn’t be a third, that much was certain.
“I gotta go,” I said to no one in particular as I made my way back toward the house. The cool slap of air-conditioning hit me as I slid the glass door open. It felt good in a way, like laying my head on the cool porcelain of a toilet seat after I got sick questioning that Harley-riding witch back in Las Vegas.
She’d been a stubborn cuss.
But at least the biker witch wasn’t evil. I had a feeling there was more to Sunny’s murder than one desperate werewife gone off the deep end.
Francine and her dodgy answers.
Nina and her talk about chandeliers.
A large hand closed around my shoulder and I shouted.
“Heather,” he hissed in my ear.
“Lucien.” I about fell over with relief.
He wore no shirt, which was a total waste because at that moment I knew I wasn’t fully appreciating his fine vampire self. I also liked the concern I saw in his eyes. Sue me. It felt kind of good that someone cared whether or not I passed out next to the fake tiki hut.
“It’s done,” I murmured as he wrapped his arms around me. “I’m wiped.”
Wait. I thought about resisting as he pulled me close against his chest, but then again—I wasn’t crazy.
I supposed I should have been trying to keep my distance from him, but at that moment, I didn’t give a rip.
My cheek rested against Lucien’s chest and something warm pooled inside me.
“Okay, let’s get you out of here,” he said as he drew away and helped me down the hall.
He didn’t ask me any questions. He didn’t push me. He just walked with me. And as soon as we’d cleared the threshold of Francine’s house, he picked me up and carried me home.
“I can stand,” I insisted as Lucien kicked our front door closed.
“Leave it to me,” he said, as we headed for the stairs.
You’re not listening, I protested, or maybe I just thought it as he carried me up the steps like a child, all the way to his room.
His bed was an ornate cherry wood antique with bloodred sheets. “I’m not sleeping in your bed,” I groaned.
“Of course not,” he said, easing me into the soft mattress and stretching out next to me. “Advil?”
My head hurt too much to argue. “Better make it a double.”