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I notice the bartender adding a double shot to my drink. She slides it across the bar to me. “At least if you’re doused in holy water, you’ll repel any vampires in the vicinity.”
“This drink is excellent. I shall have another. And a plate of something
unhealthy and delicious, ideally with cheese.” “Cheese does make everything better.
My wandering gaze grinds to a halt as I clock the man at the end of the bar. Holy Aragorn, heir of Isildur. My breath stills in my throat.
Instantly, I become a cat protecting my personal territorial bubble – back rigid, hair raised, ready to scratch out some eyeballs if required.
dawns. Hot sulky Aragorn is saving my arse.
But I’m not about to question my knight in period clothing,
Surly Aragorn is a method actor, fully committing himself to the role of my devoted boyfriend.
It’s the kind of kiss that Taylor Swift would write a hit song about.
This man will go back to being a stranger and I’ll go back to being boring Winnie Preston who never does anything spontaneous or wild.
He tugs at my lip with teeth that are a little sharp, and a throaty moan erupts from my throat. Did I just make that noise? Yes. Yes, I did.
He’s just being nice, and I’m ready to climb him like the property ladder.
Luckily, Lord Valerian distracted the woman with his mouth. Very chivalrous. And effective.
but when I pulled her close and that scent rose from her skin, the monster in me took over.
I am sick. All this exposure to humans is turning me mad.
castle. I don’t want to take these trips into the village to “train” myself not to devour their stupid faces.
If you had the sundresses with you, you might be pregnant already.
Of course I moaned like a pornstar in a pub full of people.
a bakery called Glazed and Confused
I may be a hot mess, but at least I’m a fun hot mess, like a runaway train filled with glitter
The relief of order
in the chaos.
– give me all the burly mountain men, clever professors with kinky proclivities, spoiled billionaires, wild motorcycle gangs or sexy vampires, as long as the hero is broody, grumpy and possessive, with a schlong that has to be checked as oversized baggage on aeroplanes,
“It’s the Nevermore Murder Club and Smutty Book Coven.” “The … what?”
And by hitting the gas, I mean, Reginald goes balls out pedal to the metal.
This is a castle that has seen some shit.
If Dracula visited Black Crag, the infamous vampire would step back in disgust and tell the owner: Cool it with the gargoyles, dude. No one’s that goth.
my valet is convinced that my things will develop sentience and devour our guests.”
Their stuff isn’t just stuff – it’s a precious dragon hoard, and my job is to help them protect it from filthy hobbitses.
I stifle a yawn. “I think we should call it a night.” “Of course – your feeble body requires rest.”
Lol imagine having tbis said to you hahahaha
Alaric could talk about paint drying in that deep voice of his and I’d listen.
Actually, he did talk about paint drying for a bit.
“Reginald, I am ready for my nightcap. Ms Preston will be joining me, and she requires sustenance.”
him. He has one of his books open on his knee, those fathomless eyes devouring the page with a hunger that makes me wish I was made of paper and
covered in diagrams of locomotive engines.
Too bad there’s no permanent job out there for organising castles filled with art for eccentric, grumpy, hot AF peerage, because I think I’d nail it.
She smells like sunshine, like strawberries. Like things that are not for me.
treating my distractions as though they are precious, as though I am precious …
Be still my unbeating hEart
I cannot stop thinking about her golden hair and honey eyes, and the laugh she drew unbidden from me. I haven’t laughed in … I’m not certain I’ve ever laughed. I shall ask Reginald.
This is the universe punishing you for moaning against your client’s lips.
He tilts his head to the side, regarding me as I struggle to put out the fire in my ovaries.
searching for a coherent thought. “Why are you damp?”
“Would you like a fancy title?” The corner of his mouth quirks again. “I believe I have the power to bestow them. Would you like to be ‘Empress Winifred, Lady of Light and Laughter and Terrible Music’, or perhaps ‘Her Royal Highness Winifred, Grand Poobah of the Clutter Castle’.”
“The Very Very Reverend Winifred, Mistress of the Storage Containers.”
“Books may be wonderful, magical receptacles of knowledge, but they can’t protect you from a killer.”
‘save me from Alaric the Cantankerous Count’?”
You think I have a retinue of manservants following me around,
Dhampir – the abomination born from the coupling of an Upyr man and a human woman.
try to see my work through her eyes, to feel wonder when I look at these pieces instead of shame.
I want things no vampire should ever want from a human. I want things that will crumble my whole world to ashes.
