Read Online How to Seduce a Vampire (Without Really Trying) (Love at Stake) by Kerrelyn Sparks - Free Book Online
Authors: Kerrelyn Sparks
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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
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
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