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Authors: Jennifer Rardin
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woman.” Long pause.
Cole: “Oh.”
Vayl: “One of the smal paintings you showed me… I was captivated. I have been unable to turn my mind from her in these days since.”
Me: You fucker. I’m going to kill you. Right here. Right now.
Granny May: He doesn’t know about you yet. You’d be murdering an innocent man.
Me: Like hell! Kyphas was right. I turned to go upstairs.
Maybe I will just—
Cole: “Which one was it?”
Vayl: “I cannot remember her name. She was a green-eyed beauty with flaming red hair. You told me she was biding in Marrakech with her lover, a vampire named Vayl.” I shoved my palm against my mouth. Two fat tears tracked down my cheeks.
Cole said, “Her name is Jasmine.” Bless him, he pronounced it just like Vayl would have.
I turned back. My sverhamin stood on the bal s of his feet, his entire body tight with anticipation. “Yes! Can you arrange a rendezvous?”
“Sir.” Cole pushed his hands into his hair, pul ed his palms down his face. “Although I’m fairly sure she’s unhappy with her current situation, uh, I don’t think a face-to-face is going to be that easy. Vayl is the jealous type.”
“We shal start with a letter, then. I wil dictate and you wil pen and deliver it, yes?”
Cole nodded, but slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe the conversation. “I guess I could.”
“Excel ent!” Vayl clapped him on the shoulder. Which was when I realized his next move would probably be to bound up the steps and rush to his room on the third floor, next to mine, where he could have the privacy he needed to write his fantasy girl a love letter.
I grabbed my skirt, hiked it up to my thighs, and ran toward my room. My mouth was open the whole way, pul ing in big breaths of air to fuel my race, pushing out gusts of silent laughter. Because 1777 Vayl wanted me too.
Yeehaw!
CHAPTER SIX
Vayl never talked much about his childhood. But I always suspected it included lots of hand-me-downs and skipped meals. Because he’d reached the end of his second century with a wel -developed appreciation for the finest clothes, food, and accommodations.
I could see instances where spending extra dough got you better quality, but to me a room was pretty much just a place to crash unless you lost so many stars you began to see mold and bugs. Yeah, I appreciated my sunset-striped king-size with its wal -length headboard and the silk-cushioned bench at its foot. But Vayl would’ve wanted me to ooh and aah over my yel ow and red bathroom (egad, was there no end to the tile?) and the metalwork decorating the windows and the door that led to my balcony. No dice. I saved that kind of reaction for, say, people who could eat entire lemons without puckering. Now, that’s impressive!
For lack of a better place to put it, I’d set my trunk against the wal between the bench and the bathroom. I opened the lid, dug through a couple weeks’ worth of clothing, most of which Monique had sent out to be cleaned for me the day before. Vayl’s cane nestled between a pair of jeans and a pile of silky lingerie that threatened to depress me al over again. So I concentrated on the item that had been his companion so long that he’d added a metal tip to its base and then replaced that twice. Even if he hadn’t recognized me, he should’ve known his cane. But even it had gotten a REJECT stamp.
Which was, maybe, why I spent time with it every day, curled up on the bench with the cane across my knees, my fingers trailing along the whole length of the black wooden sheath that held a sword Vayl had once wielded like it was part of his arm. Now I wasn’t sure he knew how. I turned the cane on my lap, watching the carved tigers spiral down its length while the blue gem at the top glittered in the light of my wal sconces.
Maybe he’ll ask for it tomorrow , I told myself, as I had every night since we’d arrived. My new mantra. The one I repeated right before I cal ed Cassandra.
Who, once again, had nothing
Cole: “Oh.”
Vayl: “One of the smal paintings you showed me… I was captivated. I have been unable to turn my mind from her in these days since.”
Me: You fucker. I’m going to kill you. Right here. Right now.
Granny May: He doesn’t know about you yet. You’d be murdering an innocent man.
Me: Like hell! Kyphas was right. I turned to go upstairs.
Maybe I will just—
Cole: “Which one was it?”
Vayl: “I cannot remember her name. She was a green-eyed beauty with flaming red hair. You told me she was biding in Marrakech with her lover, a vampire named Vayl.” I shoved my palm against my mouth. Two fat tears tracked down my cheeks.
Cole said, “Her name is Jasmine.” Bless him, he pronounced it just like Vayl would have.
I turned back. My sverhamin stood on the bal s of his feet, his entire body tight with anticipation. “Yes! Can you arrange a rendezvous?”
“Sir.” Cole pushed his hands into his hair, pul ed his palms down his face. “Although I’m fairly sure she’s unhappy with her current situation, uh, I don’t think a face-to-face is going to be that easy. Vayl is the jealous type.”
“We shal start with a letter, then. I wil dictate and you wil pen and deliver it, yes?”
Cole nodded, but slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe the conversation. “I guess I could.”
“Excel ent!” Vayl clapped him on the shoulder. Which was when I realized his next move would probably be to bound up the steps and rush to his room on the third floor, next to mine, where he could have the privacy he needed to write his fantasy girl a love letter.
I grabbed my skirt, hiked it up to my thighs, and ran toward my room. My mouth was open the whole way, pul ing in big breaths of air to fuel my race, pushing out gusts of silent laughter. Because 1777 Vayl wanted me too.
Yeehaw!
CHAPTER SIX
Vayl never talked much about his childhood. But I always suspected it included lots of hand-me-downs and skipped meals. Because he’d reached the end of his second century with a wel -developed appreciation for the finest clothes, food, and accommodations.
I could see instances where spending extra dough got you better quality, but to me a room was pretty much just a place to crash unless you lost so many stars you began to see mold and bugs. Yeah, I appreciated my sunset-striped king-size with its wal -length headboard and the silk-cushioned bench at its foot. But Vayl would’ve wanted me to ooh and aah over my yel ow and red bathroom (egad, was there no end to the tile?) and the metalwork decorating the windows and the door that led to my balcony. No dice. I saved that kind of reaction for, say, people who could eat entire lemons without puckering. Now, that’s impressive!
For lack of a better place to put it, I’d set my trunk against the wal between the bench and the bathroom. I opened the lid, dug through a couple weeks’ worth of clothing, most of which Monique had sent out to be cleaned for me the day before. Vayl’s cane nestled between a pair of jeans and a pile of silky lingerie that threatened to depress me al over again. So I concentrated on the item that had been his companion so long that he’d added a metal tip to its base and then replaced that twice. Even if he hadn’t recognized me, he should’ve known his cane. But even it had gotten a REJECT stamp.
Which was, maybe, why I spent time with it every day, curled up on the bench with the cane across my knees, my fingers trailing along the whole length of the black wooden sheath that held a sword Vayl had once wielded like it was part of his arm. Now I wasn’t sure he knew how. I turned the cane on my lap, watching the carved tigers spiral down its length while the blue gem at the top glittered in the light of my wal sconces.
Maybe he’ll ask for it tomorrow , I told myself, as I had every night since we’d arrived. My new mantra. The one I repeated right before I cal ed Cassandra.
Who, once again, had nothing
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