House Of Vampires (The Lorena Quinn Trilogy Book 1)

by Samantha Snow

  “I was much the same,” he promised. “I had this unquenchable thirst for knowledge. I wanted to understand everything. If the sun was in the sky, I wanted to understand why. If the fish were biting, I wanted to know what made them do so.”

  “Me too!” I gushed, shifting around in my seat to face him better, “I remember this one time in kindergarten I found a book about dinosaurs, which was pretty much brand spanking new for me, so there I was, curled up in a corner, reading about giant flying lizard-birds and I just...I had so many questions. So, I walked right up to my teacher, who was in the middle of something else entirely, and I just started to ask one thing after another.”

  “Do you still read about dinosaurs?” he asked.

  “I did until I started reading about dragons.” I knew how I sounded, but I couldn't stop myself. “I remember the first time I heard about dragons. It was in this book. A girl finds this big egg in her backyard, and tries to hatch it, and it turns out to be a dragon and like...I must have read that book a zillion times. One of the apartments that we lived in had these great big trees out front. I wasn't supposed to climb on them, but one of the branches looked like a dragon neck. I couldn't help myself. I'd go up there and daydream about having a dragon friend of my own.”

  His hand gripped mine. “I am aware of your feelings on the subject, but I feel it is my place to tell you that there could be dragons again, should magic return to the world.”

  I swallowed so suddenly it very nearly hurt my throat. “Are. You. Serious?”

  “I'd never lie about dragons.”

  I frowned at him. “Lemme guess, this is tied in with the magic-baby prophecy?”

  He shrugged. “Dragons are great beings of magic. They cannot exist without a reawakening of the Weave.”

  He gripped my hand once more and then let it go. Maybe he sensed that I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, or maybe he felt that we had touched for far too long. Either way, I was happy for the space and the quiet to figure a few things out.

  For as long as I had known about them, I had been fascinated by the idea of dragons. Giant flying lizards who could spit fire and carry me into the sky? Yes, please. Sign me up. And that daydream, born from the mind of the lonely girl I had been, could very well be mine if I would just, you know, fulfill the prophecy.

  No pressure or anything.

  ~~

  The restaurant was small, but classy. It sat on a hill overlooking the ocean and the apparently famous city of Marseille. I didn't speak a word of French, so I left it to Alan, who seemed more than happy to order everything for us. There were four different types of wine (apparently, the drinking age in France is 16) and crusty bread flavored with herbs. But the real centerpiece was the soup.

  “Okay, what is this?” I asked after the third course had been removed from the table and replaced with a reddish-orange soup that had seafood bobbing around in it. I lifted my spoon and pushed a shrimp around in the broth. The scent coming off of it was the definition of mouthwatering as far as I was concerned.

  “Bouillabaisse,” he purred.

  “Gesundheit.” I brought a single spoonful of broth to my lips and took a sip. “Holy crap.”

  “Do you like it?”

  Like it? It was the best thing I had ever tasted. What had I been missing all of my life? Oh, right. The money to afford fantastic food. Goodbye, chicken nuggets. “Oh, yes.”

  He nodded and swirled his own spoon through the broth. His lips were tilted into a somber line like he was remembering something that hurt. “This soup tastes like home, more than anything else for me. Since my father was a fisherman, we always had something to eat, so long as there were fish to be caught. My mother would make bouillabaisse frequently.”

  “Did you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked. It was clear that something was bugging him, and I didn't want to just ask him right out what was up, but I wanted to give him an opening to talk about it if he wanted to. That's me. Lorena Quinn, master of beating around the bush and creating awkward moments for all.

  He shifted in his seat as if he was uncomfortable. I didn't think that was the case. The chairs were plush enough, and I don't think there was any actual blood flow to make his backside get tingly from being in the same position for that long.

  Wait...if the dude didn't have any blood flow...uhhh...how was I supposed to...well...get pregnant? I might not have been a whiz in high school, but I passed sex ed. I decided to save that question for another time. Maybe Jenny would know.

  “I had seven of them, and each of them was more tedious than the last.” He picked up his glass, swirling the liquid around inside until it made a pale pink wave in the cup.

  “Tell me about them.” I took a sip of my own drink. I've gotta be honest. At first, I didn't like the flavor, but it kind of grew on me.

  “Why?”

  “First dates are all about getting to know one another,” I explained. “At least, in the modern era.”

  He sighed softly. “Forgive me, ma cher. It has been some time since I have attempted to court a lady.”

  “Really?” I did my best not to sound surprised, really I did.

  He gave me that humorless smile that I now knew meant he was hiding something. “Contrary to popular belief, Lorena, I do not have women in my room every night. In truth, I have not been on a date since my current ensemble was fashionable.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “For what?”

  I shrugged my shoulders, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle in my skirt. “For making assumptions. I pretty much hate it when people make those about me. I mean, the moment that I tell people that I like comic books and video games, they automatically think that I'm awkward and socially impaired and don't integrate well with reality. The fact that they are right means absolutely nothing.”

  His laugh was a shock of sound. Yeah, I thought to myself, I'd do a lot of things to get Alan to laugh. Damn. I liked him, too.

  “Now, how about you tell me about those siblings?”

  He did, in as much detail as he could remember, and despite being undead for the past zillion years, he could remember a lot. Maybe vampires had good memories, or maybe it was just a quirk of his. I liked hearing about them. I didn't have any siblings of my own and had always been pretty much fascinated with the idea of them.

  “Genevieve?” I asked as dessert was brought to our table, “Like the vampire?”

  His lips took on a wistful curl. “My sister, both in life and as a vampire. She was seven years my senior and I adored her. Despite her lowly birth, or maybe because of it, she caught the attention of Vlad first. We were very close, and when he chose her to be one of his brides, she begged him to bring me along. I was eleven at the time, and he would not turn me for another ten years. But that, I think, is a story for another time.”

  “Are we going home?” I asked.

  He gave me a long look. His emotions were hidden behind that mask again, and I knew that they were hiding something. Hope? Or something else?

  “Do you want to go home?” he asked. His voice was careful, even neutral.

  “How long do we have until sunrise?”

  A look glimmered through his achingly pretty eyes. “A few hours.”

  “Then show me more.”

  We walked down the road on the edge of the beach, my arm linked through his. He showed me the buildings that had been in the village since he was alive, and the ones that had been added since then. As he talked, I began to understand the way he thought, the way he connected one memory to the next like some kind of stitch work. He was smart and suave and incredibly attractive. I noticed the way that other people noticed us. No one sneered, but I got the feeling that if it had been anyone but Alan wearing antique finery, they might have.

  Eventually, we made it down to the waterfront to the very spot where his home used to be. It was long gone, but a small house stood where it had been. It was quiet, and the moon was this massive disc of silver in the sky.

  “I could
live there,” I said, eyeing the sea cottage. “I'd keep the windows open all day, just listening to the water and the wind.”

  “Were you to choose me, Lorena, I'd give it to you as a thank you gift.”

  I blinked at him. “What? Are you trying to bribe me?”

  “Perhaps a little. I do not have Dmitri's creative charm, nor do I have Wei's power, but I would treat you like a princess, a goddess, or more if you would choose me.”

  For a moment, I couldn't breathe. I have never thought of myself as a greedy or superficial person, but it was really tempting to say yes to the super-hot dude who was offering my own house by the sea.

  “Before I think too much of this...can I ask a question?” When he nodded, I continued. “If you weren't born noble, why all the fancy clothes?”

  He eyed me. “Would you like to see me without them?”

  I blushed, but bumped him with my hip. “I would have to be ten years dead not to want to see you naked, and even then, I am pretty sure my ghost would crawl back out of whatever afterlife she was cruising around in if you offered to do a nude shimmy on my grave.”

  “High praise.” He ran his tongue across his teeth again. This time, I could see the elegant, slightly curved, points of his teeth.

  “I call it like I see it.” I shrugged. “It's true enough.”

  He paused at the end of the street. There were less lights here, and the ocean echoed around us. “All you have to do is ask.”

  I am smooth. So smooth. It's why I have a lot of dates. My mouth went dry. I swallowed hard enough that I was pretty sure I made that 'gulp' sound that you hear in cheesy Saturday morning cartoons. “Uhhh...what?” Yup, that's exactly how smooth I can be.

  His hand slid up my very exposed arm, the tips of his fingers skimming over my bare shoulder, my neck, and then my chin. I had never been so aware of something as simple as a touch. Tingles shot from the places his fingers lingered to the parts of my body that started to ache.

  “If you want to see me naked, Lorena, all you have to do is tell me what you want me to take off.”

  His thumb skimmed ever so lightly over my chin, the tip of his nail outlined the fullness of my lower lip. His fingers were electricity, guiding sensations with his touch. There was a part of me, dark and unexplored, that very much wanted to tell him to start taking off of his clothes. But I wasn't ready for that...and we were totally in public.

  “Kiss me.”

  His lips parted ever so slightly. “Do you mean it?”

  “It's been a fantastic date. I think it ought to end with a kiss.”

  “As you wish, ma Cher.”

  His arms slid around me, pulling me gently closer. The ruffled edges of his shirt were not half as soft as they looked, but I liked the way they felt against my skin. I had never been so aware of my body as his palms skimmed along my cheeks, one staying there, the other dipping into the locks of my hair. For a moment we just stood there, his eyes looking into mine. Then, he dipped his head, and the moment our lips touched, I swear I stopped feeling my legs.

  His lips were soft, softer than satin or silk or any fabric I could think of. They pressed easily at first and then harder until I was pretty sure fireworks were going off behind the eyes that I belatedly remembered to close. His tongue dipped against mine, and I felt my body go heavy with lust.

  When he pulled back, I was surprised that I could breathe again. I was surprised that I wasn't a ball of mush puddling on the rocky beach, too, so there's that.

  “Will that do, Lorena?”

  I nodded slowly, not entirely trusting myself to speak.

  “Come along then,” he said, taking my hand in his, “We'll have to fly back soon.”

  It took me a moment to remember that I wasn't already flying, and I dimly wondered if that single kiss had ruined me forever.

  CHAPTER TEN

  It was her voice that woke me, even though I didn't realize it at first. Instead, I thought it was my phone. I ‘d drank a little more wine on the plane trip home, and I was sleeping the deep and drool-filled sleep of the girl who was going to be experiencing her very first hangover in the morning. As I glanced at the clock on my phone, the light glared up at me with enough power that I thought I might be experiencing the hangover anyway. Since it was just shy of three thirty, I knew I had only been in bed for an hour. I also knew that I had no missed messages or phone calls or any alarm, and therefore, the phone could not be what woke me up.

  “Uuugh,” I said, rolling over. I think my head kept going. I brought one hand to my forehead to keep it from falling off the pillow.

  “Lorena,” the voice said, and it was right around then that I realized that I had heard it before.

  I sat up in my big ol' princess bed, and through the bleary gaze of the not quite awake, I saw her. She looked pretty much the same as she had when she'd shown up at Ms. Marquesa's store, at least before she'd looked creepy. The gray robes large enough to mask the face beneath them, the elegant hand with the fingers of moonlight. Her presence didn't pack the same punch as it had that first night. I got the feeling she'd toned it all down, just for me. How nice. Yeah...

  “What the heck are you doing here?” I asked. I didn't sound particularly polite. I really hate being woken up.

  “I came to see you.”

  “Why?” It seemed like the right thing to ask, even though what I really wanted to do was pass back out and sleep through the headache I could already feel pressing behind my eyes.

  “I'm allowed to see my daughter if I want to.”

  For a full minute, I didn't say anything. I was pretty sure I had fallen back asleep and was dreaming all of this. Better yet, maybe I had never woken up in the first place. This was all a dream. There was no way the woman in the gray robe was my mom. Right?

  “You wanna run that by me again?” I asked. I pulled the blanket tighter around myself.

  “I think you heard me the first time. Lorena, goodness, you have grown up so beautiful.”

  She pushed her hood back, and I felt my throat close.

  My dad had kept almost nothing from his life before I was born. There were no pictures of my grandmother, no yearbooks with stupid “have a great summer” messages, or even prom snapshots. I remember this wild fantasy my overactive imagination had come up with, telling me that my dad was actually part of the witness protection program. When I asked him about it, he rolled his eyes and told me that I daydreamed too much. So much for that.

  He hadn't kept much...but there was a single Polaroid of my mother. She wasn't much older than nineteen or twenty, her belly was swollen with itty-bitty me. She was laying out in a hammock, wearing a dress I would have called BoHo with a flower tucked into her blonde hair. I remember looking at it for hours, memorizing all of her features, wondering where I was in them. Because, despite the fact that she was my mom, I didn't look much like her.

  The woman standing in my room, gray robes floating around her body like mist, totally did. A little older, with lines around her eyes and lips. Pretty, that much was true, but I had no desire to run to her arms and call her mommy.

  “Okay, Vader, start talking.”

  Her eyes lit up with amusement. “You're funny, too.”

  “That's me.” I drew my legs up, wrapping my arms around my knees beneath the blanket. “But I was asking about you.”

  She didn't move, but the image of her flickered. I should have known she wasn't really there. I mean, how many people could break into a house full of vampires...at night...while wearing floaty cosmic robes?

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, let's start with something easy. What the hell are you doing here?”

  She gave me that kind of smile that I always pictured a mother might give her kid when they did something both idiotic and cute. “Sweetheart, I already told you. I wanted to see you. I haven't seen you in a very long time.”

  “Yeah?” I asked. Maybe it was the headache, maybe it was the surge of conflicting feelings, and maybe it
was the fact that she was calling me some cheesy pet name; either way, I was feeling pretty grumpy. “Then where the heck have you been the past eighteen years?”

  “Sweetheart...”

  I held up a hand. “Stop. Listen. I don't mean to be a bitch here, but it's going to happen. If you are my mom, and I am reserving believing that one, by the way, then where have you been, and why are you showing up now?”

  “I left, because your father and I disagreed about how we were going to raise you. I am here now, because you seem like you want to make your own choice, and I'm hoping you will hear my side of things.”

  It was the first thing so far that had made any sense. My dad was all about deciding things for me. “What's your side?”