Now that was what she’d expect the king of the vampires to look like. The male had long, straight black hair falling from a widow’s peak, black wraparound sunglasses, black leathers and a muscle shirt, and a face that was cruel and handsome by turns. Tattoos ran down the insides of both his huge forearms and a large black stone glinted on one of his fingers. The golden retriever who was curled up at his feet was a little surprising, and sure, that armchair he was parked in wasn’t exactly a George R. R. Martin–worthy throne, but the impression he made was so overwhelming, you could have put him
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