How to Seduce a Vampire (Without Really Trying)

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  But then the leopard’s warning would slice through his memory like a knife, ripping it to shreds. Then he would recall how she’d attacked him at first. He’d been unarmed, but she’d shown no mercy. No hesitation. A killer.

  With a groan, he tossed the report on his desk. Innocent or killer? Which was she? Who were the women of Beyul-La? Was it a convent? But he’d never heard of nuns who went around ravishing and killing men. Maybe they were a man-hating cult? Why did they have arrows similar to the one that had killed his father? Were they descendants of the ones who had murdered him and destroyed the village? It seemed crazy, but he might have discovered a centuries-old cult of female assassins living in a place called Beyul-La.

  Had Neona attacked him because he’d ventured too close to their home? The leopard had said men weren’t allowed there. They would kill him if they found him there.

  He did a search on his computer for Beyul-La, but just as he expected, nothing came up. The word beyul existed, though, and it meant “hidden valley in the Himalayas.” The example cited was called Barun Valley, and the photo looked similar to the valley he’d seen. Green and lush, surrounded by snow-peaked mountains. The local people, the Sherpa, called such a place sacred. Paradise on earth. Fantasies were told of hidden valleys like Shangri-La, where the people never aged and lived forever in peace and harmony.

  Zoltan snorted. There was nothing peaceful or harmonious about Neona. He’d turned his back on her once, trying to protect her, and she’d clobbered him. At least all the injuries he’d incurred had completely healed during his death-sleep.

  Should he see her again? God, he wanted to. He’d enjoyed talking to her. He’d really enjoyed kissing her. But would she be glad to see him or try to kill him?

  He’d never know if he stayed here in Budapest. Unfortunately, he had a full schedule of meetings until midnight, and then he had to return to his townhouse, where the ballroom was used twice a month for Coven Court.

  As Coven Master of Eastern Europe, he had to preside over the proceedings, pass judgments, and generally keep the peace among his constituents. Occasionally, some Malcontents would get out of hand and he’d have to borrow some employees from Angus to go after them. For centuries, he’d been keeping law and order. And building a successful business. He owned the old castle and surrounding area in Transylvania and a great deal of real estate in Budapest, Hungary, and Sofia, Romania.

  Business was good. Work kept him busy. So busy that he could usually forget that he was alone. He solved other people’s problems, protected them from Malcontents, Communists, Nazis, Ottoman Turks, Mongols. On and on, for centuries.

  He leaned back, closing his eyes. He was tired. Tired of the same activities stretching on into eternity. It was times like this when he sorely missed his old friend Istvan.

  As the local vampire, Istvan was already old and wise when Zoltan had met him as a child. And when Zoltan had suddenly become the new Count of Czakvar at the age of fourteen, Istvan had lent him advice and wealth in order to rebuild the castle and village. At the age of twenty-nine, Zoltan had despaired that he would grow old and die without discovering the truth surrounding the deaths of his parents, and he’d begged Istvan to change him. Since Istvan had been a friend of his father’s and was also keen to solve the mystery, he’d agreed to become Zoltan’s sire.

  Over the years, Istvan became a second father to Zoltan. The old vampire warned him that acquiring wealth was important, even necessary, for a Vamp. It meant security and freedom. So Zoltan had amassed a small fortune. He felt secure enough these days, in spite of Howard’s fussing, but he didn’t feel free. He just felt . . . tired.

  Istvan had died in the Great Vampire War of 1710, killed by the evil Casimir. Zoltan had tried his best to step into the shoes of his mentor, volunteering to take over Istvan’s job as Coven Master of Eastern Europe. Zoltan had been reelected in 1750, then again in 1850 and 1950. Apparently, no one else wanted the responsibility.

  Istvan had also taught Zoltan that time spent protecting mortals would give his life meaning. Zoltan had accepted that as his noble purpose. But the longer he lived, the more mortals he saw grow old and die. He couldn’t really protect them from death. Was his noble purpose nothing more than vanity to make himself feel better?

  With a sigh, he opened his eyes, and his gaze fell on the computer screen and the photo of Barun Valley. Paradise on earth. Similar to Beyul-La, but the ridges around Beyul-La had seemed impenetrable, so that the valley was completely cut off from the rest of the world. Beautiful, but so isolated. What would cause a handful of women to live alone in such a place? Why were they willing to kill to keep it secret?

  Zoltan sat up. This was what he needed. A new quest. He would discover the secrets of Beyul-La and win the heart of Neona. If she didn’t kill him first. And he might also solve the mystery of his first quest and find out what had happened that fateful day in 1241. Because of the arrow, he had a strong feeling it was all connected.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Milan peeked in. “Sir, I’m sorry to say this, but your meeting in five minutes has to be postponed. They just called, and they’re running late. They don’t expect to be here for thirty minutes—”

  “That’s fine.” Zoltan’s heart started pounding. In thirty minutes he could teleport to Tibet and back. “Oh, Milan,” he said when his assistant started to shut the door.

  “Yes, sir?” Milan looked back in.

  “Clear my schedule for tomorrow. In fact, clear it for a week.”

  Milan’s mouth dropped open. “You’re taking a vacation?”

  “Yes.” Zoltan grabbed a pen and some paper.

  “But you never take a vacation. Not in the five years that I’ve worked for you.”

  “You’ve been with me five years?”

  “Yes, sir.” Milan blushed slightly and adjusted his glasses. “You hired me after I graduated from college.”

  “Oh.” Zoltan thought back. Milan’s grandfather had been the steward at his castle for years. And Milan’s father, the head gardener, had turned the gardens into one of the highlights of the castle tour. They were always there, every night, just like Milan. “I don’t recall you ever taking a vacation.”

  Milan’s blush deepened. “You-you never gave me one. Not that I’m complaining. You’ve taken care of my family for more generations than we can remember. It is an honor to be working for you.”

  Zoltan groaned inwardly. He’d been so obsessed with work that he hadn’t noticed what was happening to the mortals around him. And he prided himself as their protector? “Good God, Milan, you should have told me what a terrible boss I am.”

  “That’s not usually wise for an employee, sir.”

  “You’re taking a vacation. Now.”

  “I am? But should we both be gone at the same time, sir?”

  “Oh, right. You have to stay.”

  Milan’s shoulders drooped. “Yes, sir.”

  “But you’re promoted. You know everything that’s going on, right? You know all the building managers and business contacts?” When Milan nodded, Zoltan made a decision. “Very well. You’re in charge now. Double, no, triple your salary. And when I get back, you go on vacation. Okay?”

  Milan stared at him, his blue eyes wide.

  All of a sudden, Zoltan felt fifty pounds lighter. And much more energetic. Free. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes, Vice President.”

  Milan nodded. “Yes, sir.” He closed the door.

  With Zoltan’s superior hearing, he heard a victorious whoop on the other side of the door. Smiling, he wrote a note in English.

  Dear Neona,

  I’d like to see you again. Please meet me here at midnight.

  Zoltan

  He grabbed the note and teleported back to the clearing where he’d fought and kissed Neona the night before. From the top of the rocky outcropping, he retrieved the arrow he�
��d taken from Russell. Then, using his vampire strength, he rammed the arrow into an oak tree, pinning the note.

  But what if one of the other women saw it? Would Neona be in trouble? He pulled the arrow out, then levitated up to the branch where the leopard had lounged the night before. He pinned the note there. It was too high to be noticeable by most, but hopefully, the leopard would find it and tear the note off to give it to Neona. It was a long shot, but what else could he do? He couldn’t waltz into Beyul-La, where he was forbidden. Unless he managed to remain hidden.

  He wandered down to the stream, watching and listening, but no one was around. He eyed the rock wall where water gushed out. That water had to be coming from Beyul-La. He teleported to the top of the ridge, then across the top branches of trees till he had a good view of the village.

  Only glowing embers remained in the central fire pit. The houses were dark. The women had probably retired for the night. He spotted the leopard trotting up a hillside toward a series of mounds. Burial mounds? There were five of them. No, six. The sixth one was grown over with grass and harder to see in the dark. The other five were brown with newly piled dirt, topped with large rocks that gleamed silver in the moonlight.

  Something moved next to a mound. One of the women? He teleported closer. Yes, a woman, dressed in green and brown linen that blended into the hillside so well she was scarcely visible.

  He teleported to a tree close to her. Was it Neona? It was hard to tell when all the women had long black hair and slim bodies.

  She sat very still, her hand resting on a dirt mound, her head bowed. With her other hand, she wiped her cheeks. She was crying.

  Zoltan winced. Five of the graves were new. As far as he knew, only six women remained. Russell had said they’d been taking heavy losses when he’d joined the battle. Why was Lord Liao fighting these women?

  The leopard approached her, bumping his head against her leg. She gave him a pat, then lay back on the grass, staring up at the sky. Neona.

  Whom was she crying for in the middle of the night? A family member or close friend? His heart squeezed as he watched her. He knew how it felt to lose all his family and his closest friend.

  He would have to be careful with her heart. It was already raw with pain. And he’d have to make sure Lord Liao didn’t kill any more of these women. An inner voice warned him that once again he was taking on the responsibility of protecting mortals, but he ignored it. Neona was special. He couldn’t let anyone harm her.

  The next time Russell came for supplies, he’d have to answer some questions. Who were the women of Beyul-La? And why was Lord Liao and Master Han’s soldiers attacking them?

  Cat, he mentally nudged the leopard.

  Zhan looked around, its golden eyes gleaming, till it spotted him in the tree. You fool. If they catch you here, they will kill you.

  I left a note on the tree branch where you sat while Neona and I were talking.

  You did more than talk. The cat glared at him. Hurt her and I’ll gnaw your foot off.

  Zoltan ignored the threat. Help her find the note tomorrow. I want to see her again.

  The cat thumped its tail on the ground. Why should I help you?

  Because she’s sad. And I want her to be happy.

  The cat blinked slowly. Maybe I’ll help. Maybe I won’t.

  Fair enough, Zoltan conceded. Watch over her, okay?

  Zhan didn’t respond, but rested a paw on Neona’s leg.

  Zoltan took one last look at her, then teleported back to his office. Three minutes till the meeting. He smiled to himself, straightening his tie. If all went well, he’d be with Neona tomorrow night.

  Chapter Six

  “You smell rabbits around here?” Neona asked her pet leopard. “I haven’t seen any tracks.”

  Zhan trotted ahead of her, presumably following the scent of some sort of prey. According to Tashi, who could communicate with him, the cat wanted his favorite meal again. So Neona had taken him hunting at dawn.

  She stopped, recognizing the clearing they were in. This was where she’d met Zoltan. The rising sun shot fractured rays through the trees, causing the morning dew to sparkle on the grass. It was a beautiful place, the perfect setting for a memory that continued to haunt her. Who would have known a man could be that strong, yet kiss that sweetly?

  A deep sense of longing enveloped her heart. God help her, she wanted to be special to someone. She was surrounded by friends in Beyul-La, but with her sister gone, she felt so alone. There was no one to open her heart to, no one to hold her when she ached inside. Of course, as a warrior woman, she wasn’t supposed to need comforting. She certainly wasn’t supposed to seek comfort from a man. Even an exceptional man like Zoltan.

  Where did he come from? He didn’t look like any villager she’d ever seen. Had he truly wanted to kiss her? Or had he merely tricked her into closing her eyes so he could escape? Why did he run away? Did he not enjoy the kiss? Maybe he didn’t like her.

  She shook her head. Why would he like her when she’d clobbered him? She exhaled slowly, reminding herself once again that his disappearance was for the best. She couldn’t fall for a man and shirk her sacred duty. Especially now, when they were at the beginning of a new cycle.

  But why did she have to keep reminding herself? Even now she found herself peering carefully into the forest, hoping for a glimpse of him.

  The leopard drew her attention when he suddenly scrambled up a tree.

  “What are you doing? You won’t find a rabbit up there.” Her breath caught when she noticed a piece of paper stuck to the branch with an arrow. “What is that?”

  Zhan ripped at the paper with his claws.

  “Don’t destroy it!” Could it be a note from Zoltan?

  A piece of the paper floated down, and she grabbed it.

  Dear Neona,

  I’d like to see you again. Please meet me here at midnight.

  Zoltan

  Her heart leaped into her throat. “He wants to see me!”

  Zhan made an annoyed huffing noise and jumped down to the ground.

  “How clever of you to find the note.” She hugged the leopard, then rubbed his ears. “You must have recognized his scent.”

  Zhan butted his head against her.

  “Good kitty.” Her heart thudded as she folded the letter and slipped it into her tunic pocket. Did she dare meet Zoltan? And the even bigger question, did she dare take his seed?

  She swallowed hard. Why not? He had agreed to mate with her. It would be cowardly to run away from such a golden opportunity. Still, she needed to think this through. “Let’s find something for dinner.” She could make her plans while they hunted.

  She strode down the hill toward the stream. It was easier to spot tracks in the muddy areas there. Her heart pounded with each step. She could see Zoltan tonight! An inner voice warned her that it might be unwise, but she shoved it aside. She wasn’t shirking her duty. If she had a daughter, she would be fulfilling it.

  Should she take him to Frederic’s old cabin? It wasn’t far from here. The women had used the cabin two weeks ago to house the vampire, Russell, when he was injured. They had felt honor-bound to take care of him after he’d saved Queen Nima’s life during battle.

  Neona figured the cabin was a more suitable place for mating than the woods. She would have to take fresh sheets and some supplies from Beyul-La without anyone noticing. And she would need to bathe and wash her hair.

  She pressed a hand against her chest, where her heart continued to pound. This was exciting! Be careful, an inner voice warned her. You could lose your heart to him. She pushed those thoughts away. She’d lived with gloom and despair for two weeks. It was time to think more positively. This had to be for the best. Because for the first time since losing her sister, she felt alive.

  After waking from his death-sleep in the bedroom of hi
s castle, Zoltan’s thoughts immediately turned to Neona. Would she be waiting for him at their meeting place? Had the leopard helped her find the note?

  His excitement grew as he showered and dressed. This time he wore more suitable clothes—jeans, brown T-shirt, hiking boots, and a green hooded jacket with zippered compartments. He teleported down to the kitchen for a quick meal.

  “There you are,” Howard said as he materialized.

  “Good evening.” Zoltan nodded at the were-bear and his wife, who were seated at the kitchen table, sharing a bowl of ice cream.

  “We thought we’d find you here after sunset,” Howard said, his gaze drifting down to Zoltan’s hiking boots. “Going somewhere?”

  Ignoring him, Zoltan took a bottle of AB negative out of the fridge, twisted off the top, and set it in the microwave.

  “We heard you were taking a vacation,” Elsa said.

  “Yes.” Zoltan rummaged through the fridge till he found some bagged blood. He zipped it into one of the large pockets on his jacket. Emergency rations, just in case.

  “Milan is in shock,” Elsa continued. “He said you haven’t taken a night off in five years.”

  “Guess I’m overdue.” The microwave dinged, so Zoltan removed the bottle and poured the warmed-up blood into a glass.

  Howard spooned some ice cream into his mouth. “Let’s get to the point, okay? I need to know where you’re going.”

  Zoltan gave him an annoyed look. “I’ll take a sat phone with me this time.”

  “So you’re going back to Tibet?” Howard set down his spoon. “You’re going to see the Amazon warrior again?”

  “Maybe.” Zoltan upended his glass, guzzling down the blood.

  “Why do you want to see a woman who beat the crap out of you?”

  Zoltan swallowed so hard that his eyes watered. “She didn’t beat the— Look. Whomever I choose to see is none of your business.”