A Tale of Two Vampires (24 page)

He looked at me as if I were the one being out of the ordinary. “Of course not. And yes, I discovered soon after Benedikt was born that I could alter my appearance to show age if I so chose. When my wife died, it changed back without me being aware of it until one day Imogen pointed out that I looked younger.”

“Why did you get younger?”

He gave a little shrug. “It wasn’t something I consciously controlled. I assume it was just how I was comfortable appearing to others.”

“Wow. That’s…wow. I guess it must be so you guys don’t stand out in a crowd,” I said, musing on the idea. “I mean, a person who never ages would attract attention. But what did your servants think when you started to go back to Nikola Prime?”

“We were living in Vienna when she died. Following that, I went back to England for a few years, then returned here with the servants, and opened up Andras Castle again.”

“Clever. So, can you do it right now?”

He looked startled. “Do what?”

“Change so you look older? I wouldn’t make such a big fuss about it, but my cousin is going to bring my things to the hotel, and I don’t want her thinking I’m cradle robbing.”

He stopped in the middle of one of the little squares that were satellites to the center of town. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he looked at me, the irises darkening to sapphire. I watched him closely, holding my breath, not knowing what to expect.

His face shifted slightly, blurring a little, then sharpening until faint lines fanned out from his eyes. A few strands of silver appeared at his temples, barely visible, but there if you looked close enough.

“That’s amazing! How do you do that?”

He smiled, his new laugh lines crinkling in a way that made my knees want to melt. Nikola looking like he was thirty was utterly gorgeous. Nikola looking fifteen years older was mind-numbingly irresistible. I just wanted to rip off his clothes and molest him. “It’s a matter of shifting my mental age.”

“Huh?”

We resumed walking. “I did some thinking about this when my wife complained that I would continue to look young while she aged—and the day that she noticed I no longer looked as young—and came to the conclusion that I could alter my appearance if I felt older or younger. I call it a mental age. It is the age that I feel I am, despite the number of years that I carry.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then I’m mentally twenty-five, which is a really scary thought, since I was a mess at twenty-five. Nikola…” I stopped him with a hand on his chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bitched at you and made you change how you look. That wasn’t fair of me. I honestly liked you the way you were, even if I will be letting myself in for some cradle-robbing jokes. Go back to the way you are comfortable looking.”

“If you insist,” he said, pulling me forward into a kiss despite the fact that we were clearly visible by everyone walking or driving through the square. His mouth was as hot as sin, and twice as delicious, and I came seriously close to just throwing caution to the wind and tackling him right then and there, but luckily, Nikola had more presence of mind than me, and managed to break off the kiss before I did so.

Not more presence of mind, sweetling. I’ve just had longer to learn to control my desires. Although if we do not find a private place in the next hour, that control will be severely tested, and I will not answer for my actions.

Don’t worry, we’ll have a hotel room to…er…feed you. Um. I hate to tell you this, Nikola, but you didn’t change back. You still have laugh lines and a tiny bit of silver in your hair.

“You told me to appear as I was comfortable. I have done so,” he said blithely, his hand on my back as we continued through the square.

“To the left,” I said, pointing and looking at him from the corner of my eye. I wanted to protest that he didn’t need to stay looking older than me just to make me happy, but damn. He really was beyond sexy like this.

He smiled, and I damned my inability to keep my thoughts to myself.

“Why are we going to a hotel to meet your cousin? You said earlier that we would stay with her.”

“Yes, well…” I coughed. “The bed in the room where I’m staying squeaks, and I thought we’d be more comfortable at a hotel.”

“It squeaks?” His eyes widened, turning to pale blue that shimmered with heat. “Just so. A hotel would be better.”

I ignored the fact that I was blushing like crazy, and concentrated instead on walking the next three blocks without once thinking about licking Nikola.

Or touching him.

Or rubbing myself against his naked flesh.

Sweetling, if you do not cease thinking about those things, I will bed you right here in the street, and there is not even a verge in which we might disport ourselves.

Sorry. I’ll try not to think about how much I want to touch your chest, and stomach, and legs, and…and…dear god, Nikola! Stop thinking about that! It’s too much! Wait…with a strap?

Yes. It holds you up at the correct angle. I’m told that the sensation of such an angle is quite pleasing for the female.

My legs felt like rubber as his erotic thoughts—and they were far, far more erotic than my own musings—filled my brain, but we made it to the hotel without either of us embarrassing ourselves.

I left Nikola in the shade of a bookstore while I ran across the street to the hotel, and inquired of the woman at the desk if she knew of somewhere we could stable Thor.

“A horse?” she asked without batting so much as one eyelash. “There is a small stable to the rear of the building that my husband uses for a car he is rebuilding, but if you like, your horse could stay in one of the empty stalls.”

“That would be perfect. I’m happy to pay for his board, if you know of someone who can feed him and clean out his stall, and that sort of thing. I’m sure my friend will make more permanent arrangements as soon as he can, but that might take a couple of days.”

The middle-aged woman smiled. “Do not distress yourself with worry. It unbalances your aura.”

“Um. OK. Can we take Thor back to the stable now?”

“If you like. I will show you the way.”

The woman accompanied us around the side of the hotel (thankfully the side that had shade), to a small outbuilding that was mercifully shaded by a giant chestnut tree. She hauled open the large door to reveal four stalls, two of which were taken up by a car that was in pieces, while a third held a number of wooden crates. The fourth stall also held a couple of crates, which we moved out before settling Thor into the stall’s confines.

“I will call a friend at a local riding stable,” the hotel woman said as she pulled out a cell phone. “She will bring hay and grain for your horse.”

“Some brushes and currycombs would be welcome,” Nikola told her. “He will need grooming, and I am loath to leave him unbrushed.”

The woman nodded, and waved us back toward the hotel as she spoke rapidly in German.

The hotel lobby was small and what travel agents would call “eclectic.” The owners, Gretl had told me when she was showing me around town, were aging hippies who had moved to Austria from Canada, and were heavily active in the arts and crafts community. I stood next to a zebra-striped love seat, eyeing a tall lamp topped with a yellow satin fringed lampshade, while Nikola stood considering a red and pink heart-print sofa. I was in full agreement with Gretl’s assessment that the hotel was an acquired taste.

“This furniture,” Nikola said, his gaze moving over to a spotted green beanbag chair. He checked himself. “It is furniture, is it not?”

“Yes.” I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that the hotel owner wasn’t within earshot. “Very odd furniture, but it’s meant to be sat on.”

“It is quite unique. I like the colors on that chest.”

A purple, green, and teal standing chest of drawers in the corner had been painted with various African animals. The squat legs of the chest were done in purple and white stripes.

“It’s…special. Thank god, there’s Gretl.”

I ran to the (yellow polka-dot) door to hug Gretl when she came in hauling my duffel bag. “Gretl! Oh my god, you don’t know how happy I am to see you again!”

She dropped the bag and hugged me back, immediately going into full scold mode. “Where have you been? Why did you not call me if you decided to go somewhere on your own? Do you know how worried I’ve been? The police, they said they could not find proof that you traveled anywhere, but I was sure that you had been abducted, and they would not do anything. Oh, Io! I have been so worried!”

It took a good five minutes to calm her down to the point where she listened to my repeated apologies, and the (admittedly flimsy) story I made up about falling asleep in the forest and waking up to find my things stolen, followed by a brief spate of mental confusion (which she had no trouble believing, drat her) that led me to wander the area until I was given succor by a kindly individual in the person of Nikola.

She took one look at Nikola, and the objections to the likeliness of my spending a few days with a stranger evaporated on her lips. After considering him for a few seconds, she spoke to him in German.

He answered in English. “I have family who live in this area, and was visiting them when I found Io lost. She seemed rather dazed and confused about where she was—”

I like the fact that you’re telling the absolute truth, and yet it’s coming out in a way that won’t have her calling the police.

It is a gift,
he said modestly.

“—so naturally, I did what I could to provide a safe haven for her.”

After insisting I was a prostitute.

It seemed likely that you were, given your ensemble and the circumstances. I will point out that I have apologized for that mistaken belief a number of times.

Once. You apologized once. Once does not a number of times make. And don’t you dare tell me that I’m nitpicking, because I know I am. I just felt it was important to mention that you thought I was a hooker long before I molested you.

Why would I wish to pick a nit?
he asked, genuinely confused.

We’ll have that colloquial chat soon,
I promised, and turned my attention back to Gretl, who was now saying polite things about him taking me in, while gently chastising me for not calling.

“I’m sorry, I forgot your phone number, and I didn’t have my cell phone,” I lied, thanking heaven that her number was unlisted. “Nikola brought me back here as soon as possible, and by then, I had remembered what your phone number was, and so here we are.”

“Yes,” she said slowly, her gaze shifting from Nikola to me. I don’t think she believed my story, but luckily, she was distracted by him, and didn’t grill me further about the missing things. “You are going to stay here?”

The unspoken question was whether Nikola was going to stay with me.

I smiled, and tried to not look like the sort of a woman who hooks up with a man after a few hours’ acquaintanceship. “Yes, Nikola thought he’d like to see the fair while it’s still here, and he’s happy to show me around the area, so I thought we’d stay at the hotel so as not to disturb you if we come in late at night.”

“How very thoughtful of you,” she said, her lips twitching a little. She glanced back at Nikola, a faint line between her brows. “Have we met before? You seem familiar to me, but I can’t quite remember where it was we met.”

Nikola made a courtly bow that made my stomach go all wobbly. “I cannot say that I’ve had the honor.”

“Um…as it happens, Nikola is related to Imogen.”

“He is?” Gretl looked delighted. Nikola looked surprised. “Imogen is a very old friend of mine. How are you related to her?”

“He’s her…er…cousin.”

I most certainly am not.

No, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to try to explain that you are Imogen’s dad when you look younger than Gretl does. You’re just going to have to be Imogen’s cousin to the folks who don’t understand about vampires and immortality.

“He looks like Imogen’s brother, so that’s probably where you see the resemblance.”

“Benedikt resembles
me
,” Nikola said firmly, with a pointed look at me.

I smiled, and took my things from Gretl, tucking away my passport and credit cards. “Shall we meet for dinner? I’m going to get a room and go take a proper bath…er…take a bath, but if you’d like to meet for dinner, that would be great.”

She demurred, her eyes on Nikola before giving me a look that let me know she wanted to say something in private.

“I’ll walk you out to your car,” I said, dropping the duffel bag at Nikola’s feet. “Be right back.”

“I’m not going to tell you to be careful,” Gretl said as soon as we were out of earshot. “Because you are old enough to know what you are doing.”

“Thank you. I realize this is a bit unexpected and certainly out of character for me, but Nikola is a very nice guy, and he…uh… I promised to help him with a little research problem, so I’m going to be busy with that for some time.”

“Research problem? He is a scientist?”

“In a manner of speaking. More freelance than official,” I said, hedging wildly, but luckily, Gretl didn’t seem to notice.

“I would have thought he was an actor. Why is he in period costume if he is not?”

“Reenactors,” I said quickly. “He belongs to a reenactor group that…uh…reenacts.” I winced at just how stupid I sounded.

“I do not know of any historical reenactment groups in this area,” she said, her brow furrowed in thought. “Is he perhaps from Vienna?”

“Yes, that’s it. You don’t mind if I stay with him, do you? I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings, especially after you invited me to come and stay with you for the summer—”

She patted my hand and stopped my pathetic apology. “My dear, if you have found a man with whom you have a future to share, then I am very happy for you. It is my fondest wish, you know. No, I am not hurt, and I do not mind that you should wish to stay with him, although I do warn you to be careful. We know nothing about him, about who he is, what he has done in the past.”