“We’re going outside to the storeroom now. Do you want to lie down? You don’t look so good.” She puts the back of her hand on my forehead. “And you feel a little warm.”
I hear the faintest growl, and my head whips toward Mr. Bozhidar instinctively. His eyes gleam, the silver in them seeming to glow. I can barely breathe as I rise from the sofa, lost in those eyes. What is happening?
“I-I’m fine. Let’s do the tour,” I say, trying to shake it off.
My sisters stay behind, whispering to each other, uninterested in the business part of the evening.
Neli hooks her arm through mine and ushers me quickly from the room. “Can’t wait to see how you’re set up over here. Your mom had this great idea about you guys hosting private tasting parties on your patio using our wine. We never host. Way too busy. You can take a percent of the profits for the hassle, and we’ll probably sell more wine. Already I feel good about this collaboration.”
I snap out of it and focus fully on Neli. Somehow I missed the entire conversation. “I love that idea. You saw our patio the last time you were here. It’s a nice covered space with a view of the vineyards and your castle too. If you’re happy with the arrangement down the line, I could host special events in your barrel room, as well. I think a masquerade would be perfect for the ancient-looking space.”
“You’re full of great ideas,” she says, pulling me along even faster.
The front door opens ahead of us. Mr. Bozhidar moved so quickly I didn’t even hear him approach from behind.
I smile up at him as I pass, and he leans toward me, breathing deep.
Did he just smell me? I shiver as I step out into the warm night air. Neli appears by my side, chattering away, but this time I’m fully conscious of Mr. Bozhidar’s powerful presence behind me. Where are my parents?
I glance over my shoulder. They’re trailing behind, talking quietly to each other. Guess I’ll have to be the one to show off Stellariva.
After a brief tour of our manufacturing facility on the east side of the property, which thankfully my dad took the time to explain, my mom offers our guests tastes of different wines to help narrow down the best option for mixing with theirs.
I watch Mr. Bozhidar closely for telltale signs of disgust, but there aren’t any. I’m not sure he’s even sipping the wine. He draws it to his mouth, tips the glass, and then licks his lips, his glowing black eyes smoldering into mine. I want to know what he thinks of it, if he’s even tasting it, but at the same time all I want is to feel those lips tasting me.
This is crazy. I lift my hair off the back of my neck, suddenly fever hot. I can only pray I’m coming down with something. I can’t even consider getting involved with the man who’s the key to keeping our business afloat. What if things went bad between us? That would really be the end of Stellariva.
The rest of the evening passes by in a strange fog until he says his goodbye to my parents and then takes my hand, murmuring in a deep hypnotic voice, “Until we meet again.” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it, and then he turns my hand, palm up, and places something cool and heavy there, gently closing my fingers around it. “A gift for you.”
My breath comes faster, my cheeks flushing. I open my palm to find a darling gold charm bracelet with several tiny charms. I’m floored by the sweet gesture. “Thank you, Mr. Bozhidar,” I whisper.
His voice is silky. “Please, call me Boz.”
He leaves, and I’m suddenly deflated, as if he took all the energy out of the room with him. Still, there’s a lingering tingle in my stomach, like some strange afterglow. Whatever happened tonight, I can honestly say that I’ve never experienced anything like it. Don’t be silly, I tell myself. You can’t risk getting involved with this guy.
A moment later, my parents and I are standing in the foyer alone. I slip the bracelet on, admiring it.
“What’s that?” Mom asks.
I return to myself with a start. “It’s from Mr. Bozhidar. A gift.”
“He must really want to work with us,” she chirps. “A promising beginning.”
“I didn’t like the way he was looking at Stella with a hungry look in his eyes,” Dad says, scowling. “And he gave her jewelry!”
“Oh, you,” Mom says. “It’s not like it’s a ring. Overprotective dad, step down. So maybe he admired Stella. Any man would. Our daughter is beautiful.” She strokes my hair back over my shoulder, smiling.
“Something is off with that guy,” Dad grumbles. “Sadie went crazy. I haven’t heard her howl like that in a long time.”
I stiffen, suddenly feeling defensive. “He might be a little eccentric, but that’s only worked in his favor. We can’t turn our backs on this opportunity. This could be the answer to all of our problems. We might even win an award with a mixed varietal under our label. That could open doors everywhere.”
“She’s right,” Mom says.
My dad crosses his arms and glares at the door our guests just exited. “I still don’t like it. I think we need to be sure Stella’s not alone with him.”
“Dad! I’m not a kid anymore.”
He shakes his head. “I’m telling you, Stella, something’s not right with that man.”
“Well, too bad,” I say, “because he’s our way out of this financial situation, and I’m not going to mess it up by insulting him.”
My dad gives me a stern look. “I’m going to bring Sadie downstairs. Let’s see if she’s still acting strange about our eccentric visitor.”
The moment Sadie returns, she follows her nose, sniffing everywhere Boz has been, all the way up to my charm bracelet. She growls low in her throat.
“See?” Dad says.
“She’s just confused. Mom says she’s getting senile in her old age.”
My mom tilts her head, watching Sadie return to where Boz was sitting, sniffing again.
Maybe something about Boz is off, but the strange thing is, it doesn’t scare me. To the contrary, I’m excited by him. Maybe more than I should be. I need to remember my priorities, and nothing is more important than saving my family’s winery.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Boz
“Well, I’d say that went rather well other than that lowly bloodhound sniffing around.” I remove my black polo shirt—so soft, it’s annoying, or maybe it’s the golden dye coating my skin?—and toss it on the couch in the parlor. Now gloriously shirtless, I pour myself a glass of red wine. I rarely drink it, blood is my thing, but after inhaling horse piss and pretending to drink it, I need something to cleanse my palate so I can mentally savor my victory.
“Oh no. Don’t you dare, Boz.” Neli marches into the parlor behind me. “You do not get to toast yourself after that—that—”
“What?” I say, inhaling the fragrant glass of our vineyard’s finest in my hand.
“You gave her the whammy.” Neli glares with her green eyes.
“Whatever do you mean, girl?”
“I saw the way she was looking at you.”
“So?” I shrug.
“So…that wasn’t just a reaction to your haircut and clothes.”
“Ah.” I point my index finger toward the ceiling. “But the tan.”
Neli marches over, steals my glass, throws it back, and then stares up at me. “Cut the crap. You went to her room, hypnotized her, and now she’s all into you.”
I ignore my wench, because she has no understanding of what it is like to live hundreds of years, life growing stale and redundant with every passing day. I have seen the glimmer of a fading sunset and the spark of a new day, but the sunlight itself has eluded me for eight hundred years. “When you’ve lived as long as I, give me a call on your tiny phell cone.”
“Cell phone. And I have lived as long as you, Boz. Longer, actually, because you were asleep for the last five hundred years, which means I’ve technically lived about two centuries more.”
I pivot and hiss. “How dare you? Everyone knows that vampire years are like dog years. My one year equals
your seven.”
“Uh, where the hell did you hear that?”
“On the internet. I hear she is quite reliable.”
Neli rolls her eyes.
“Do that again, and I shall pluck one of your eyeballs from your skull and wear it as my codpiece.” I grab my discarded shirt and march upstairs to my dressing chamber to change.
“About the right size too,” she mumbles at my back.
“I heard that! And we both know I am hung like an elephant. Many o’ woman has run screaming from my bedchamber for fear of being impaled.”
Neli follows me. “That was because you showed them your fangs.”
“Perhaps, but do not discount the intimidating nature of my large phallus.” I chuck my dirty shirt in a large white plastic bin that Neli calls a “hamper.” You simply put the soiled clothes inside, and they magically reappear a few days later neatly folded and stored in their proper place. Modern marvels truly are impressive.
“That’s not the point!” Neli stomps her foot.
“Then what is?” I turn and snarl down at her. “That I cannot pursue the girl across the road because you, a lowly servant who is bound to me, do not approve?”
Neli groans in frustration and presses the heels of her palms to her face. “I’m sick of this, Boz. I’m sick of you not listening to what I have to say. I’m sick of you treating me like a second-class citizen—”
“Third class. Second class would be my valet, whom you allowed to die of old age, apparently.” Pure laziness.
“Fine!” Neli throws her fists to her sides. “Third! But that doesn’t change the facts.”
“Which are?” I cock a brow.
“That you and I are all we have. I can’t survive without you, and you can’t survive without me.”
“Have you been licking toads again, girl? I’ve warned you to stay away from those.”
Neli stares at me, and then, like a candle that’s been snuffed out, the fight leaves her. She leaves my chamber and goes over to the long padded armchair called a couch, where she plops down. Her lackluster aura sends a wave of dark chills through me.
I follow, feeling genuinely concerned. She lives to fight with me. “Neli? What is the matter, girl?” I take the place next to her on the couch. A stream of tears runs down her pale cheeks. I won’t ever admit it, but I cannot stand to see a woman cry. It feels like nature herself is weeping, and who doesn’t care about nature? “Why are you upset? Is it your moon cycle? Have I not given you enough bread and cheese in your daily ration?”
She covers her face and sobs with even more gusto. I want to cringe, but I hold it in.
“I can’t do this anymore, Boz. I can’t.”
“What?”
“I can’t babysit a grown man, who also happens to be a powerful vampire that refuses to change.”
“What are you saying? I am the prime example of adaptation. Have you not witnessed my very impressive transformation these last few days?” I watched the friends, I used a credit card, and I cut my hair. I even stopped demanding that Neli launder my clothes. The hamper does it for me now.
Neli pushes back a lock of red hair behind her ear, her teary green eyes meeting mine. “Release me.”
“What?” I jerk my head back.
“You heard me.”
“But if I did that, you would turn into a pile of ash and dishonor your name, your family.”
“I don’t care! I want out.”
I lean back into the couch, feeling this odd sensation in my chest. Pain. “I-I do not understand, Cornelia. Why would you choose death over being my major-peon?” I refer to her official title as the head of the servants, a proud moniker from our time long ago. She came up with the idea herself after tiring of being called my slave.
“It’s majordomo! Not major-peon!” She inhales sharply and whooshes out a breath. “For the last five centuries, I’ve been free. Okay, with the exception of having to keep you alive. And figuring out how to move a dormant vampire halfway across the world. And move his castle brick by brick, then have the entire thing put back together because I knew he would never accept anything but the exact castle he inherited from his maker, and I would never hear the end of it if I let it be destroyed. But despite all those challenges, I built a life, Boz. I went to school, I learned about the world and different cultures. I worked hard to give us what you see, and even if I still suck at dating because the world keeps moving faster and faster and I can’t keep up, I’ve learned one thing.” She holds up a pale finger. “I don’t want to be your slave anymore.”
I thought she loved being my slave. This news is shocking. “Then what do you want?”
“I want to find love and live a normal human life.” She bows her head and shakes it with a sigh. “But it’s just not in the cards for me, so I’ll take freedom.”
She wants freedom. I allow that to sink in. “But you know there’s only one way to make that happen.”
She nods. “Yes.”
“Become a vampire.”
“God no!” Her eyes go wide. “I said I want you to release me. I want a swift and painless death.”
Death? “No. I will not allow it!” The ache in my chest grows stronger.
“Why?”
“Because…because…you are like family and…” I look away. I might be a vampire, but I am a man first, and it is a well-known fact that men do not discuss their feelings. It is a sign of great weakness. Also, the other men tease you, and nobody likes that.
“What, Boz?” Neli pushes. “Tell me, dammit! I’m like family and what?”
“Fine.” I meet her teary gaze. “If you wish to hear that I would miss you, then I will say it, but only if you promise to never leave. And bring me virgins when I ask.”
She shakes her head again, this time with disgust.
I sense that she’s back to wishing for that swift death. “Very well. If it is what you truly desire, Neli, I will release you, but I ask that you find me a replacement companion first. Stella.”
I see the wheels churning in her weak female mouse brain. “If I do that,” she says, “do I have your word that you will release me?”
Ha. Hahaha… Never. “Of course.”
Her eyes twitch. “I don’t believe you.”
“Too bad. It is either that or you can take your own life.”
“You know I’ll just become a vampire if I do that.”
Yes. Only one’s master can deliver the true death. It is a safety catch. Otherwise, a vampire’s human slave could leave at any moment. Death is a gift only I can bring her. Otherwise, she can become like me, though I’m fairly certain that the glamour of becoming a vampire died long ago. She knows this life isn’t for everyone. Being the fastest, smartest, deadliest, and above all, best looking is no simple task.
Neli takes my hand and squeezes. “Boz, I need you to promise that if I do this for you, you’ll let me die.”
I stare into Neli’s eyes. I hate to lie to her, but telling the truth is far too demeaning: I would be lost without my Neli. She is like a sister. Who waits on me. And helps me kill people.
“I promise.” I hold up my hand. “Now, let us get on with the business at hand.”
“You have to remove the whammy.”
“Why?” I clear my throat. “Not that there is one.” Because it’s unsportsmanlike to hypnotize a woman whom you desire in your bed, though, I must give myself credit; I merely hypnotized Stella so that she would want to spend time with me. All right, and I may have told her to think me handsome. So what? It’s just that I saw her lying there and couldn’t help myself. “Fine. I gave her the whammy, but in my own defense, I never intended to bed her while she remained under my spell. I merely wanted a taste of her attention.” It was sweeter than I imagined.
“Good. Because you and I both know you won’t be satisfied with winning her if it isn’t real.”
“Agreed. So what do you suggest is the next step?” I ask.
“First off, remove the whammy. Then get to kno
w her. Spend time together. Show her who you really are. If she still wants you, then maybe she’s the one you’ve been searching for all these years. Your forever companion.”
My bride? My forever love? Could Stella truly be the one I’ve been searching for all these centuries? (At least I was before my forced nap.) I had given up all hope of finding my mate. It’s why I decided I wasn’t meant to be a one-neck vampire. Lack of hope will do that to your tender immortal soul.
Who wouldn’t give up hope after the years dragged on and on with no signs such a woman existed? I was forced to give up any ridiculous notions of finding my bride and embrace my bachelorhood. I accepted that Neli would be my companion and that my manly sexual needs would be met in other ways.
But now, this notion of Stella perhaps being the one excites me. Could she be my soul mate?
I heard rumors that a vampire knows his forever mate by the intoxicating scent and the taste of their mate’s blood. The flavor is said to drive a vampire mad with lust. Stella is the first woman who meets both requirements. “You are right. I must spend time with her to see if she could be the one. And I will go to her room tonight to remove the whammy.” I need to be sure her affections are genuine.
“Okay, but no more hanky-panky, Boz. I saw the huge hickey on her neck.”
“It was a tiny scratch,” I argue. “Only about the size of a chicken egg. With holes in it.” I shrug. “And a tad purple. All right, fine. It was a massive hickey, but can you blame me? She is very desirable.”
“Boz, she’s a good girl. And I believe, in my heart, that you are a good man, capable of extreme kindness—when you want. So please don’t ruin her life. Find some salty old crow to mess with if Stella isn’t the one.”
“I am not into birds, but I do not judge.”
“I—never mind. Just promise, okay?”
I groan. “Very well. If it will make you happy, I promise I will not ruin her life.” Ah…but a nibble, that is fair game.
Later that night, dressed in black, I go to Stella’s house. I stop briefly to “rabbit” her bloodhound into slumber before entering Stella’s room. Her sweet scent fills my lungs, and my body tenses instantly. I’m beginning to notice that my reactions to her are uncommonly strong. Tonight was no exception. Every time our gazes clashed, it felt like my heart might start beating again, almost like a strange tickle.
Fanged Love, Book 1 Page 9