by Lisa Olsen
“I think Margaret Thatcher or Oprah might disagree with you there,” Anja frowned, but Carys waved her objection away.
“I agree, the Oprah is a formidable woman, but Marilyn captured the hearts of men the world over. That is why they had her killed.”
“Shénme?” Anja turned to Bishop in puzzlement. “What kind of history have you been teaching her?”
Bishop cleared his throat. “She’s been watching the Oxygen network.” The documentary there had been more lurid than factual.
“Ah, ’nough said.” Anja nodded in understanding. “Well, you look great. That style really suits you, and who doesn’t look great in diamonds, right?”
“Thank you. I do quite like these clothes.” Carys smoothed her hands over her curves with a smug smile. “Do you think I should always dress like this, Ulrik?”
No matter that Carys knew she was gorgeous, it amused Bishop that she still craved his approval. He realized that maybe he’d been paying Anja too many compliments and he felt a pang of guilt. It made him lean in and kiss Carys’ bare shoulder for an extra gesture of validation. “It’s a little fancy for my tastes, but I love you no matter what you’re wearing.
“Or not wearing?” she added with an arch smile.
“Amunet, you’re looking shiny this evening,” Anja said suddenly, her smile overly bright. “That’s a killer costume.”
“Thank you.” Amunet inclined her head gracefully. “Your dress truly is stunning as well. And you’re looking fine this evening, Rob,” she added with a predatory smile.
“Thank you, Highness, you look lovely as always,” Rob said with a respectful bow of the head.
If Amunet noticed that neither of the men were particularly receptive to her overtures, she gave no sign of it, her face as serene as always. “Ulrik was regaling us with the tale of your heroism in Lodinn’s demise.”
Anja’s eyes widened, and she shot Bishop an accusatory stare that made him back up a step. “I just told the truth.”
“The truth is, Jakob killed him, I only helped set the stage for it,” Anja said in a low voice.
“And saved Jakob’s life in the bargain,” Rob spoke up.
Carys’ smile became brittle. “Is there anything you can’t do, my dear?”
“That wasn’t me, it was Maeja’s gift. It’s not like I have the ability to heal anyone on my own,” Anja insisted, changing the subject. “Rob, why don’t you ask Amunet to dance?”
“I… would love to,” Rob responded after a beat, offering her his hand. “Amunet, would you like to…”
“Anywhere you care to lead me,” she replied, slipping her hand into his.
“Such a handsome couple they make,” Carys smiled, but before he could say anything, Anja grabbed Bishop by the elbow and dragged him about twenty feet away while Carys stared after them. He was going to have to pay for that later.
“Hey, what’s the big idea making me out to be some kind of a hero?” Anja demanded in a harsh whisper.
Was that what was bothering her? “I was only telling it like it is. It’s not my fault you kept doing heroic stuff.”
“You didn’t have to go on and on about it though. Can’t you tell you’re ticking Carys off?”
“Carys?” His eyes flicked up to see she was still watching them intently. “What would she have to be mad about? Lodinn’s dead because of you.”
“That doesn’t mean she wants it rubbed in her face. She’s the kind of girl who doesn’t like owing anything to anyone. You get that, right? Any kind of praise you give me is going to make her hate me more.”
She had a point. “Okay, I’m sorry. We’ll go back and I’ll talk about how you drool in your sleep, is that better?”
“Don’t you dare!” Anja’s dainty fist punched him in the shoulder in outrage, but it only made him laugh. She was so adorable.
“Okay, okay, I’ll be good, I promise,” he pledged, trying to reign in his amusement.
Macallister James butted into the conversation, his southern drawl even more pronounced than normal in his cowboy hat and spurs. The look suited his unshaven jaw and the messy blonde hair falling deep over his eyes. “Well, lookee here. There’s somebody looks almost like kin in that rig. How they hangin’, Bishop?” he asked, offering a hand, which Bishop readily accepted.
“Hello, Mac. Nice of you to come all this way for the party.”
“Ain’t never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I wasn’t about to miss this shindig and a chance to meet the new Elder.”
Carys wandered up and attached herself to Bishop’s arm. “I’d begun to think you’d forgotten about me.”
“Sorry,” Bishop flushed, feeling the sting of her punishing grip.
“Ain’t you a pretty little thing. Howdy, ma’am.” Mac tipped his hat politely to Carys, but turned to Anja in the same breath. “And how’s my favorite Elder?”
Anja’s smile was genuine as she curtseyed to him. “I’m doing great, Mac. How are you?”
“Fine as a frogs hair split four ways,” he grinned, until he heard Carys snort under her breath.
“Favorite Elder indeed.”
“What was that, honeybunch?”
Instead of replying, Carys deliberately looked away, giving him the cold shoulder. Bishop had seen her use the ploy before, it was designed to make him feel embarrassed and beneath her notice. Mac was more intrigued than annoyed though.
“What’s the matter, darlin’, cat got your tongue?”
She shot him the briefest of glances. “We haven’t been properly introduced.”
“Where are my manners?” He removed his hat and made a sweeping bow, giving her a flash of his dimples. “Macallister James, ma’am, at your service.”
Bishop stepped up to give Carys some context. “He’s the delegate from Texas, they’re one of the newer Houses.”
That seemed to peak her interest. “Oh, in the Americas? And what are you dressed as, Mr. James?”
“Ain’t you never seen a cowboy?”
“No,” she admitted without embarrassment, there was much she still had to assimilate. “Do you fancy cows then?”
Mac gave a whoop of laughter. “Ain’t never been that lonely myself, but I ain’t vouchin’ for all of ’em,” he winked. “Sounds like you need an education in some of the rough and tumble ways of the west.”
Carys’ lips curved into a speculative smile. “And do you think you’re the right man to give it to me?”
Bishop cleared his throat. He’d seen her flirt with other men right in front of him too many times for him to count. It used to bother him, but he’d long ago given up on thinking she’d change to please him. In public though, he felt like he should at least pretend that it did. “Cool it, Mac, this filly’s taken.”
The cowboy instantly backed off, his healthy respect for Bishop’s abilities lending a wary touch to his eyes. “Sorry, didn’t know she was your gal. No disrespect meant, friend.”
“None taken,” Bishop replied. “I suppose it’s my fault for not completing the introductions. Mac, this is Lady Carys, Elder of Vetis, and my Sire.”
“Naw, you?” Mac’s mouth twisted in charm masquerading as disbelief. “You’re way too pretty to be an Elder.”
“Hey…” Anja scowled, annoyed by the slight from the look on her face.
“Oops, guess I put my boot in my mouth with that one,” Mac said with a sheepish grin. “How about a dance to make it up to you?”
“No thanks, I think I’ll sit this one out,” Anja replied politely enough, but Bishop could tell Mac wasn’t her favorite person at the moment.
Mac took the rejection in stride, turning to Carys next. “How about you let me take you for a spin on the dance floor, honeybunch?”
“I’d be delighted, Mr. James,” she smiled prettily, and Bishop wondered if he was going to have to sleep alone tonight. Was it bad that he almost looked forward to the peace and quiet of it?
“Call me Mac, everbody does,” he grinned. “If that’s okay with
you, of course.” He looked to Bishop for permission.
“Sure, of course.” He leaned in to kiss Carys’ cheek, careful to avoid the beauty mark drawn there. “Have fun.”
“I always do,” Carys replied, throwing him a sultry air kiss before she sashayed out onto the dance floor with the cowboy.
Bishop let out a long breath as he watched them together, Mac saying something that made her head tip back in laughter. So it looked like that was happening.
“I’m sure it’s just a dance, Bishop,” Anja said quietly beside him.
“Right.” Just a dance. It always started that way, but it never lasted. He’d almost thought Carys would change when Jakob’d undone the compulsion on her and she professed to love him and only him – but he’d found out long ago that sex and love were two very different things to Carys.
“Come on, let’s go show them how it’s done.”
He looked down to find her hand outstretched, the corner of her mouth tugged up into a mischievous grin. The last thing he should do was dance with Anja, given the strong swirl of emotions he’d felt for her, but Bishop found himself taking her hand. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter Thirty-One
I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what Bishop saw in Carys. She seemed just as man crazy as she’d been before, and she didn’t appear to notice or care what it was doing to him. And he accepted it, like it was normal. What happened to the guy who’d gotten jealous if I drank from a hunky human? Not that I approved of jealousy, but at least you knew where you stood with a guy.
That was part of the problem. I had no idea where I stood with Bishop either. He’d start out making cow eyes at Carys and want to be buddy-buddy friends with me, and then he’d look at me like he was looking at me right then and… it was almost as if we’d gone back in time. As he twirled me around the dance floor with expert skill, I caught him making a few cow eyes in my direction, and I wasn’t sure what to do with that. Especially since I’m pretty sure I caught myself lusting for more than his shiny pistol.
I couldn’t believe he’d dressed up as Mal and I had to wonder – had he done it to please me? He caught me staring, and I passed it off as costume envy. “Boy, am I jealous of that coat. I’ve been putting Riona and Briony to terrible use so far, I could’ve had them working on cosplay this whole time!” I resolved to fix that as soon as I had time to make up a list of ideas. Comic-Con here I come!
“I happen to like how you’re dressed.”
“You would,” I snorted. “This must be more up your alley, I’m guessing.” I hadn’t thought about it much at the time, but he probably preferred women all cinched up within an inch of their lives.
“It’s a later style than when I was alive, but this is actually more flattering than what women wore back then. I admit, I do miss seeing women dressed up like this. It leaves more to the imagination.”
He had to be kidding, my boobs were up on display far more than they ever were with a push-up bra. “More to the imagination? It feels like if I bend over at any point my girls are going to pop out and say howdy.”
“That just adds to the imagining,” he smiled.
Hell’s bells, was he flirting with me? “It’s a good thing I don’t need to breathe. I don’t know how the women in your time used to get around in one of these rigs.”
“It suits you.”
I waved him off. “Being corseted within an inch of your life suits anyone’s figure.”
“You need to learn how to take a compliment, Anja. You look like a dream.”
His dreams? “Oh… um, thank you.” Guiltily, I looked around to find Rob chatting with Amunet and Aubrey, who was dressed as Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, bleached blond hair and all. Nice. “I have to say, space pirate looks good on you too, Bishop. Or do I have to call you Ulrik now?”
“No, I’m more Bishop than I ever was Ulrik.” He sobered at that and I tilted my head in Carys’ direction.
“Does she know that?”
His head swiveled to watch Carys laughing in Mac’s arms. The Texan lacked Bishop’s skill on the dance floor, but he made up for it with enthusiastic charm. “She’s still adjusting to this time. I think she’s doing an amazing job.”
“Yep, she’s a real trooper,” I muttered before pressing my lips tightly together. I was being a b.i.t.c.h. and Bishop didn’t deserve that from me, he got enough of it from her. “I hope you find what you’re looking for with her, Bishop. I really do.”
“I hope so too,” he replied, his attention still riveted to the dancing couple. “It’s harder than I’d thought it would be to step back into Ulrik’s shoes.”
“Maybe they don’t fit anymore. Three hundred years is a long time. Heck, I’m not the same person I was last year.”
“You’ve come a long way,” he smiled, pulling his gaze away from them and I smiled back.
“So have you. Who would’ve thought a hard as nails vampire cop could be so light on his feet on the dance floor.” We’d danced in the past, but the way he moved was like an art, more of a performance than the simple swaying we’d done before.
“It’s all Carys. I haven’t danced like this in years. Lots of things are coming back to me that I thought were buried forever. It’s strange trying to fit my old life with this one,” he considered aloud, growing more introspective as we danced. “Like I can only be either Bishop or Ulrik at one time, not blend them together.”
“We’re all a work in progress, trying to cobble together the old with the new. You just have a lot more old to fit into the mix than most. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. The important thing is not to change too much to please her.”
“Carys is everything I’ve ever wanted and more. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy.”
That sounded an awful lot like what he’d said before, and I started to wonder if Carys’ compulsion had something to do with Bishop’s quest to keep her happy – while she still treated him like dirt. “What about what you want?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is she making you happy?”
“Well, of course I…” His words fell away, brows knit together as he searched his feelings. “We belong together, I’ve never felt so sure of anything before in my life. I love Carys, she’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“I’m sure she’s three times a lady. But… why do you love her, Bishop?”
“Why?” he stared at me in confusion.
“Yes. What is it about her that makes your heart go pitter pat and you go all weak in the knees? I know she’s beautiful, but do you honestly like the way she talks to you, or the way she treats you? What about the way she treats other people? What is it about her that made you fall in love with her in the first place?”
“I…” A deep furrow appeared on his brow, as if I’d asked him to find the square root of pi. “I just do.”
The song ended and I clapped politely, while Bishop stood there, deep in thought.
“Thank you for the dance,” I smiled, sinking into a Regency bob, and Bishop automatically inclined his head in kind, his manners kicking in absentmindedly. He squired me off the dance floor to where a small group of other Elders stood around talking with Amunet, Rob, and Aubrey. Not two seconds after we arrived, Carys and Mac showed up and Carys stopped flirting with him long enough to glom onto Bishop’s arm.
We all exchanged pleasantries and small talk, complimenting each other on our costumes while we sipped on champagne. Reindert Faust, Elder of Belonoc, approached with a stunning platinum blonde on his arm, dressed as Grace Kelly from Rear Window. I couldn’t tell what Rein was supposed to be – he wore a simple, but elegant tuxedo.
“Permit me to present Liesa Brahms, my Warden. I’ve been promising to introduce you to her all night,” he smiled, looking at me, but it was Carys who replied.
“Charmed I’m sure,” she said, not at all impressed by meeting the statuesque blonde.
I ignored her, excited to finally get a chance to meet another woman in powe
r in vampire society. “I’m so glad to meet you! I was hoping you’d make it to the last Gathering. Oh, I’m Anja, by the way. From the West.”
“Yes, I know. I wanted to meet you too,” she smiled graciously, just a hint of a German accent to her voice. “Rein’s been singing your praises since the last Gathering, I think he might even have the tiniest crush on you,” she leaned forward to say in a conspiratorial whisper, a teasing gleam coming into her eyes as she watched Rein to see how he took her ribbing.
Rein narrowed his eyes and he shook his fist at her, but there was a smile on his face. “I merely said I was pleased to find such a strong, positive voice for change in the West.”
I smiled over the exchange, taking it as a good sign of their working relationship. She never would’ve busted his chops in public like that if he was a tyrant, like some of the rumors I’d heard. “There’s nothing wrong with that, as long as you admire me for my politics and not my posterior.”
Rein raised his glass to me in a toast. “Can’t I do both?” he said, and we all laughed politely. “You’ll have to come and stay with us in Berlin soon and we can have a nice long visit together.”
“I’d like that very much, thanks.” I was dying to see how other Houses were run apart from Vetis, especially a progressive one like his.
Carys spoke up, deciding she wanted to be a part of the conversation after all. “I think it’s perfectly sweet of you to bring your Warden to my ball. One does need to connect with other females from time to time,” she said with a saccharine smile. “And I for one am glad to see you’ve survived the years, Reindert,” she added, laying a gloved hand to his arm.
“And I you, dear lady,” Rein smiled, acknowledging her with a bow. “The world is a much brighter place with your beauty and charm in it.” Carys ate that last part up, but I caught Liesa hiding a smirk behind her champagne glass. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised that Rein and Carys knew each other. I’d suspected he was one of the older ones, but it was good to know he wasn’t stuck in the past and ready to embrace change.
Given those pretty compliments by Rein, Carys decided not to be so snooty to Liesa. “I love your dress,” she gushed. “Did you have it especially made for the party?”