The Vampire's Cursed Kiss (Shadowvale Book 2)

by Kristen Painter

  They started walking.

  She leaned in a little. “You want me to lay on the doting-girlfriend stuff? Really sell it?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure what all that entails, but yes.” He blew out a breath. “I want the impossible. I want my brother to be jealous of me.”

  She laughed and patted his arm with her free hand. “My darling Constantin, that’s not even remotely impossible. You just watch and see.”

  Chapter Eight

  There was a lightness in Constantin’s step he’d never experienced before. Was that what confidence felt like? Did Valentino feel like this every day? If so, Andromeda was right. Having her on his arm was a boost.

  That was possibly the most superficial, shallow thought he’d ever had, but he was leaning into it. Hard. And since he needed any kind of lift he could get tonight, he almost didn’t care that it was shallow and superficial.

  Because while he was ready to make this evening a brand-new experience, he was also, deep in his gut, feeling like an absolute impostor.

  Andromeda was not his girlfriend. All it would take was for someone to figure that out, and the gig, as they said, would be up.

  But no one would find out. How could they? No one knew the truth but the two of them, and Andromeda was possibly more into this prevarication than he was. But this was Shadowvale. A town filled with people cursed with all sorts of bothersome abilities. If one of them were to see through this charade…

  He growled in frustration at himself. Already, his confidence was slipping. He had to stop these head games, or this night was going to be a disaster. The kind of disaster Valentino would never let him forget. He slowed a little. Maybe they should turn around now and go home while he still had his dignity.

  His feet kept moving, though. Somewhere within him lived the desire to see this through.

  They were a block from the door when Andromeda put the brakes on.

  He stopped beside her. “Everything all right?”

  “Kiss for good luck,” she whispered.

  That was just what he needed. He bent to meet her, allowing himself to believe the fantasy that this crazy-beautiful creature really was his. And she was—for six days.

  Six days.

  When she’d first mentioned that, it sounded like an eternity.

  Now it seemed like the blink of an eye.

  She leaned in farther. Deepened the kiss. He put his arms around her, sinking into the warmth of her mouth and body and letting each nuanced sensation descend into his bones. The softness of her mouth, the sweetness of her perfume, the little sounds of pleasure she made, the rhythm of her pulse, the velvet of her dress under his hands. All of it. He wanted to imprint this moment—and her—on his memory.

  For when those six days were up.

  When he finally drew back, she looked flushed and breathless. It amused him that she was so deeply committed to pretending that she’d even faked such a response. That deserved a compliment. “You’re very good at this.”

  She grinned. “So are you.”

  He had no choice but to smile back. So help him, he liked her. Just being around her was an ego boost, even if her part was a big put-on. Right now, he didn’t care. Right now, he wanted to be the man she thought he was capable of being.

  Especially in light of who was inside Club 42. And he wasn’t thinking about Valentino.

  They headed for the club’s front door and the large man standing out front. He reached to unhook the rope, but his hand stayed put on the brass end of the thick red velvet. “Evening, folks. Twenty-dollar cover charge. Ladies free.”

  “Outrageous,” Constantin muttered as he reached for his money clip. The bouncer had the low brow, square jaw, and thick chest of a holler troll. He had the requisite piney, earthy scent as well. “No wonder my brother’s raking it in.”

  The man leaned toward them. “You Mr. Thibodeaux’s brother?”

  “Yes.” Constantin flashed his ID before yanking a twenty free of the clip.

  The bouncer finished unhooking the rope and, with a big smile, moved it out of the way. “Y’all go right on in and have a good time.”

  Constantin put his ID away, but stuck the bill into the man’s hand. “Thank you. Have a good night.”

  The man glanced at the money and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Thibodeaux.”

  As they went through the door, Andromeda nodded appreciatively. “That was very nice of you.”

  “You told me to do the opposite of what I’d usually do. My first instinct was to put the money away, so I gave it to him instead.”

  “Good thinking. I guarantee he’ll remember you next time you come here.”

  “If there’s a next time.”

  She nudged him with her elbow. “Think positive, will you?”

  “Right. Yes.” He’d been to the club before, but not in a very long time. It looked pretty much the way he remembered it.

  Brick side walls, brass sconces with glass shades above each intimate, half-circle booth. Posters of great jazz and blues musicians in between the lights. Down the middle of the floor, round tables with chairs in very simple dark wood.

  Lazily spinning fans overhead kept the smoke from accumulating. The fans helped mitigate the smell of booze, too, letting the perfume from the gardenias in the bud vases on each table sweeten the air. Con knew their sister Daniella grew those specifically for Valentino in one of her greenhouses. Next to the vases were thick glass votive holders, the tiny candle flames flickering away inside.

  More sounds reached them as they walked deeper into the club. The clink of glasses, the hum of quiet conversations, and over it all, the music coming from the far stage. In this case, a quartet putting a bluesy twist on some old standards.

  They could have been in some locals-only joint in New Orleans. It was a vibe Valentino loved. Constantin could understand that. The familiarities of home were always a comfort, and the Thibodeaux family as a whole hadn’t strayed far.

  After all, they still lived in a bayou.

  “This place is about as cool as it gets, huh?” Andromeda looked around. “I suppose we should find a table.”

  “I’ve got this.” He approached the hostess stand. “Any chance there’s a booth reserved for Constantin Thibodeaux?”

  Andromeda joined him as the hostess scanned the names scrawled in the book before her. “I don’t see one, sorry. Is that you?”

  “It is. I’m Valentino’s brother.” Constantin produced another twenty. “Can you find us one? Not too close to the stage and on the far wall.”

  The woman smiled as she accepted the tip. “Of course, sir. If you’d like, I can let Mr. Thibodeaux know you’re here.”

  “No need to tell him. He’ll figure it out. He’s a bright boy.”

  “As you wish, Mr. Thibodeaux. Right this way.”

  She led them to a booth that fit his exact description, scooping up the reserved sign and depositing it on the next booth over. “I’m Brin, if you need anything else. Your server will be Zane. Have a wonderful evening.”

  They slid around the table and onto the half-moon banquette, one on each side, meeting in the middle. He nodded at the hostess. “Thank you, Brin. You’ve been a big help.”

  She smiled again and left them.

  Andromeda moved a little closer. “Put your arm around me. We’re supposed to be an item. You have to act like it.”

  “Right.” He looped his arm around her. It was surprisingly comfortable. Ages had passed since he’d been out with a woman who wasn’t one of his sisters. This was, without question, a very different kind of experience. Much more to his liking, frankly. Even if it was a ruse.

  Andromeda reached up to twine her fingers with his hand where it draped the top of her shoulder, then looked up at him. “That was pretty impressive, sliding her a little money for the table. Nicely done.”

  “Thanks.” Her praise filled him with a warm feeling that he instantly knew he could get addicted to. “I just did what you said. The opposite of my usual. I ca
n’t believe how well it works. Apparently, I’ve been doing things wrong most of my life.”

  “No, you haven’t. It’s just that most people don’t understand how going a little outside their comfort zone can work wonders.”

  “Is that what you do? Go outside your comfort zone?”

  She laughed softly. “Not really. I live in my comfort zone, which is outside of everyone else’s. But I’m a rare bird that way.”

  “Yes, you are.” Impulsively, which was definitely not in his comfort zone, he leaned in and kissed her temple.

  She slipped her arm from between them to rest her hand on his thigh.

  Her touch was light as air, but sparks of desire shot through him all the same, tensing his muscles and heating him the way nothing else could. He stretched slightly so that his thigh touched hers.

  “Don’t you two look cozy.” It was only the sound of Valentino’s voice that brought him back to reality. His brother stood at their table. Valentino shook his head. “I can’t believe it. You came.”

  Constantin stopped thinking about Andromeda long enough to greet his brother. “Hello to you, too, Valentino. Yes, we came. Thanks for reserving us a booth.”

  Valentino sighed. “I would have if I’d thought you’d actually show.”

  Constantin lifted one hand. “You’re looking at us.”

  “Yes, I am. And I’m glad you’re here. Miranda will be thrilled.”

  Somehow, Constantin doubted that.

  Valentino smiled at Andromeda. “You look lovely, Andi. Thank you for dragging my brother out.”

  She laughed a little. “It’s the other way around. He dragged me out.” She shot Constantin a smoky gaze. “I would have been very content to spend the night in.”

  New flames ignited inside Constantin. How did she do that with a few words and a glance? He took a breath, hoping to cool himself off enough to respond properly, but when he looked at his brother, Constantin knew he wasn’t the only one affected by Andromeda’s charms.

  Valentino looked positively shocked.

  Constantin barely refrained from barking out a laugh.

  Their server showed up. “Evening, folks. I’m Zane, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. What can I get you?”

  Valentino waved a hand. “Whatever they want is on the house.”

  Zane nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’d love a glass of champagne,” Andromeda said. “Thank you, Valentino. That’s very kind.”

  “Call me Val. Please.” He put his hand to his chest. “And it’s my pleasure.”

  Constantin thought it was more about his brother showing off. “I’ll have a brandy.”

  Zane nodded. “Very good. I’ll be right back with those.”

  Valentino gave Constantin a closer look. “Miranda is backstage, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you popped in to say hi.”

  Constantin matched his brother’s penetrating gaze. “She might not, but that wouldn’t be very kind to Andromeda, would it?”

  For the briefest of moments, surprise overtook Valentino’s cool demeanor. Then he smiled. “No, I suppose not.” He stood there without saying another word for a spell, then brightened his smile a little. “I should go check on the rest of the club. I hope you enjoy the show.”

  Then he disappeared into the growing crowd.

  Andromeda squeezed Constantin’s thigh. “I don’t think he knows what to do with the new Constantin.”

  “Good,” Constantin said. “Because I like this new me.”

  “Having fun, then?”

  He didn’t even have to think about his answer. “More than I ever thought possible.”

  Chapter Nine

  Andi was happy for a host of reasons. The club was fun, they were getting free drinks, Con was really loosening up, but most of all, he seemed the happiest he’d been since she’d arrived.

  That was great, and not just because it boded well for her and her situation.

  His consideration of her feelings when Valentino had tempted him to visit Miranda backstage had been unexpected—and had given her the sweetest thrill, even if it was all for show on his part. Maybe it wasn’t, though. Maybe he would have been that way without their sidewalk conversation. That was more likely, considering his general bent toward respectability.

  Constantin, for all his proclaimed shortcomings, had known that very few women would appreciate their boyfriends going to an ex’s dressing room alone. And he had treated Andi with respect and courtesy. Even calling his brother out for suggesting it.

  To say she’d been flattered by Con’s consideration of her was an understatement. Most, if not all, of the men she’d spent time with probably would have been back in that dressing room as quick as you could blink.

  What did that say about her choice of men? Not a lot. It said even less about how she allowed herself to be treated.

  What did it say about Con? Did it mean he was getting better at playing pretend, or that he was thinking of Andi as a girlfriend? Hard to tell. Either way, it was a step in the direction Andi needed him to go.

  But all that consideration was making her like him, too. She was back to wishing he wasn’t so nice to look at. Because spending time with a gorgeous man who was also sort of a jerk meant never getting her heart involved.

  She’d thought that’s who she’d ended up with.

  Now that wasn’t the case at all. For whatever reason, Con was becoming the gorgeous man who was also a prince on the inside. Maybe a reluctant prince, but his past made that understandable.

  Had she caused this change with her sidewalk pep talk? Had she unleashed something in him with the confidence boost of being able to pretend in front of his brother? Or was this who he’d been all along, and he’d just been afraid to show it because of past hurts?

  She had a feeling it was the latter and not at all due to her. Which was good. She didn’t want to be responsible for such a turnaround.

  But not being responsible didn’t change the fact that she was starting to like him in a way she hadn’t counted on.

  Zane returned with their drinks—a bottle of good champagne, along with two glasses and an ice bucket on a stand, which he set up next to their table, and a large brandy in a snifter for Con.

  A second server followed with platters of assorted cheeses, crackers, cold shrimp, a bowl of caviar with some accompaniments, and fruit.

  When they were all done setting things up and had left Con and Andi alone again, she raised her brows at Con. “Look at your brother trying to impress you.”

  Con laughed. “Pretty sure you’re the one he’s trying to impress, but I don’t care. If it makes you happy, then I like it, too.”

  “Snazzy finger food, good champagne, and the most eligible bachelor in the room at my side? I’m very happy.”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m the most eligible—”

  “Hush now. Don’t argue with your girlfriend.”

  With a soft chuckle, he lifted his snifter. “Then let me toast to the most beautiful woman here.” His expression turned more serious, but no less warm. “Thank you for helping me with all this. I know your current situation isn’t ideal, but we’re going to get you through it.”

  “Thank you.” And just like that, they’d become a team. She picked up her champagne flute and clinked it gently against his glass. She smiled as she sipped the golden bubbles, but inside she was cracking into pieces.

  Being a team was great, but he was falling for her. And fast. She could sense it. That wasn’t supposed to happen. It needed to happen to break the curse, but it came with a horrible side effect. If he fell in love with her, he’d expect her to stay.

  And as soon as the curse was broken, she was headed back to Paris and her sister. She had to. Sure, she’d thank Con for everything he’d done for her, but she was definitely leaving. For one thing, if her wings didn’t return with the curse being lifted, she had to get them back. But she also had to explain to her sister what had really happened.

&nb
sp; Cassi deserved to know the truth. Even if it was going to hurt.

  The quartet onstage took a break, and Valentino walked on, preening in the spotlight. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Club 42.”

  She’d been so distracted with Con and her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed how packed the room had become. Definitely the place to be in Shadowvale tonight.

  Valentino continued, “As you know, I’ve brought in a very special guest this evening. A singer whose incredible beauty is only surpassed by the angelic qualities of her voice. She’s serenaded supernaturals and humans alike. Kings and queens, heads of state, dignitaries, and celebrities, but tonight she graces us with her voice.” He put his hand on his heart as though he was deeply touched.

  An appropriate murmur of appreciation went through the crowd.

  Andi rolled her eyes. That was quite a buildup.

  “Please welcome the incomparable Miranda Moore.” He gestured to the right of the stage as he exited left.

  The spotlight narrowed. And Miranda walked out.

  Her black dress, which was tight enough that it might have been mistaken for body paint, was covered in sequins that made her glitter like a diamond bracelet. Her makeup—a sleek cat eye and a red lip—was magazine flawless.

  She was curvy, a textbook hourglass, and just tall enough not to be considered short. She oozed feminine charm and sex appeal. If Marilyn Monroe had been a brunette, she would have been Miranda Moore.

  Hmm. The stage must be a nod to the late blonde superstar, meant to conjure up her appealing image.

  Then Miranda opened her mouth, fangs fully on display, and the clearest, sweetest sound came forth as she began to sing.

  She was perfection, in vampire form, from the top of her impeccably coiffed head to the bottom of her undoubtedly manicured toes.

  Andi hated her.

  * * *

  Constantin’s gut felt like it had just taken the full-force blow of a cannonball. Miranda was unchanged from the last time he’d seen her, but somehow he’d forgotten just how beautiful she was.

  Maybe that had been time being kind to him by allowing the sharp details of her perfection to blur. But there was nothing kind or blurred about the ache in his heart.