The Reinvented Miss Bluebeard (London Paranormal 03)

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Authors: Minda Webber
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you achieved this miraculous recovery?"
    Adam was about to answer when Eve interrupted. "I'm sure that Dr. Griffin"—she seemed to almost choke on the name—"can share that information with you tomorrow, or another day, after he is rested from his long journey."
    "But to cure a vampire of bloodlust is startling!" the count remarked, lifting his bejeweled monocle up to view Adam suspiciously.
    After some moments, Dr. Sigmund nodded, the myriad lines around his eyes crinkling. "That is true, and this could be an important discovery. Most especially with any of the Dracul lineage, since their bad blood often leads to displays of excessive violence. They cannot seem to control their drive to continue drinking every last drop, long after their bloodthirst is quenched. It is due to the strength of their libidos and their oral fixation—a fixation most likely begun in the oral stage of their development as Nosferatu."
    "Yes, tell us more, Dr. Griffin, and don't mince words," Count Caligari demanded, spinning his monocle on its chain. "I am agog and shocked. Yes, shocked that such a vampire lineage, which included kings and queens from more than one country, should be so depraved and
abbandono
. Appalling, really, when you think about it, but all vampires crave power. The type of bloody messes the Dracul lineage leave behind are more in keeping with a primitive heritage, however, such as the common riffraff that flood the crowded London streets at night."
    Eve wanted to roll her eyes at the count's obvious disdain for anyone not born with a silver spoon between his teeth or the bluest of blood. What would he think if he knew his hostess was the daughter of one of the most notorious pirates in English history—and Irish, for that matter? She would bet her last sextant that the count's horror would be almost worth the disclosure. Almost.
    "Go on, Dr. Griffin. I too am agog at how you single-handedly managed to subdue such a ferocious Nosferatu," Dr. Crane urged, his amber eyes gleaming with mocking intent.
    Sparing him only a haughty glance, Adam ignored the scholarly doctor's attempt to disconcert him. His motive was quite obvious, as Adam could smell the lust on Dr. Crane even as the owlish man smiled suggestively at Eve again. Obviously Dr. Crane wanted himself and Eve to do more than just flock together.
    That thought had Adam repressing a very primitive urge to plant a boot in the addlepated doctor's arse, but before he could utter a setdown to the wereowl, Dr. Sigmund remarked with some asperity, "Dr. Griffin, I have been wondering if this vampire had difficulties in his potty training? Fear of the chamber pot can cause an adult vampire or a human immense problems in their adult lives."
    Eyes flashing fire, Eve gave a slight shake of her head. She was clearly warning him to be silent. If he opened his big mouth and spouted nonsense, she could find herself with the committee's censure and no funding. She broke in: "Adam told me he didn't."
    "Now, my dear, I know you love to stick that pretty little nose of yours into my business. And you are a great help—so much imagination and passion. And I will be the first to admit that your inventiveness has been my salvation, almost like a birth, leaving me a… new man. But I would like to tell this particular tale myself." Nonplussed, he held out a piece of sliced apple, which Eve declined less than graciously.
    Slanting his gaze away from her infuriated and fearful one, Adam looked over at the other doctors. Oozing breezy confidence, he finished his early remarks: "My wife is… correct. The vampire had no chamber pot fears. Although he did fear certain chambers and what he would do when he first rose from his crypt at sunset."
    Glancing at the rapt faces all around, the angry female face to his side, and the scowling, owlish face across the table, Adam began his tale. Sounding knowledgeable and pompous was just one of the many skills he had recently acquired. Some minutes later, Dr.

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