Fashionably Dead (23 page)

To complicate matters further, their Prince was a-courtin’ me, so even if a Vampyre found me attractive he wouldn’t dare show it. No one would challenge the Prince. He was revered, adored and feared. That made it a little difficult to date. I debated whether or not Ethan had forbidden any male to come near me. They all ignored me, except one—Heathcliff. His attraction was mixed with frustration and anger that made me sad and uncomfortable. He refused to spar during training and went out of his way not to touch me, but I could feel his eyes on me constantly.

It was very difficult for a Vampyre to hide attraction due to scent. His lust was easily detectable and it wasn’t one-sided. I was attracted to him too, but it was so confusing and complicated. If I was meant to be Ethan’s mate, why did I feel this connection to Heathcliff? Not only did I feel this for him, it extended to his sister Cathy. I wanted her to like me. I wanted to be friends. Of course, nailing her in the head with a dagger last week didn’t help matters. She wanted nothing to do with me. She, unlike her brother, sparred with me every chance she got. I found myself going easy on her. This, of course, infuriated her.

Heathcliff was a beautiful fighter. He was strong, precise and deadly. He was a superb mind reader and could also fly. I couldn’t fly, but I could transport. None of them could do that. Vampyres were not supposed to be able to do that. Then again, I wasn’t just any Vampyre—although God knows I wished I were.

Ethan hadn’t been participating in training. This was good on several levels, the most relevant being I couldn’t think straight around him. As far as fighters go, there was none better. He was the strongest, fastest, most deadly Vampyre of them all. No one wanted to tangle with him. He fought like a force of nature. He was a force of nature. I didn’t think he would have reacted well to the Heathcliff situation. To top it all off, I had guessed it correctly—way back when, they were best friends. Couldn’t get much worse.

The car pulled up, a sleek Mercedes sedan. I got into the front seat. They could pick me up all they wanted, but I refused to ride in the back seat. I refused to behave as if I was better than whoever they’d chosen to drive me that day.

“Hello, Astrid,” Heathcliff said. My stomach dropped.
Why in the hell didn’t I get in the back? Shit, shit, shit.

“Heathcliff,” I nodded and stared straight ahead. My voice sounded tiny.

“How are you tonight, Astrid?” he asked.

“I’m okay. How are you?” Small talk was going to suck.

“I’m not so good, Astrid. Do you know why I’m not so good?” he asked.

“No,” I whispered.
Oh help me, God. This was not something I could handle right now.

“I’m not good because you’re very close to mating with my best friend who also happens to be my Prince, and I want you for myself. That puts me in a rather bad situation, don’t you think?”

He certainly got right to the point.

“Um . . . yes.” I wanted to be anywhere but stuck in close quarters with him. I could transport home but that would make me a chickenshit. I was not a chickenshit.

“Astrid, look at me.”

I slowly turned my head and looked into his killer blue eyes.

He pulled the sedan over and stared at me.

He was absolutely beautiful. Where Ethan made me feel out of control, without the ability to reason, Heathcliff made me feel calm and happy. I knew I was safe with both of them, but I began to panic. I was attracted to two men. Really attracted. This was so not good. I felt a little lightheaded, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to giggle uncontrollably or cry.

“Sometimes,” he continued, “if a fire starts with an explosion, it burns out quickly. Everything in its path gets destroyed, turned to ash. Then it is gone . . . forever.” He watched me closely. “If it starts out with a spark, even a small one, and slowly picks up heat it can develop into something beautiful and meaningful. A healthy fire, full of warmth and love . . . and it will last.”

Kill. Me. Now.
He was making sense. Did it matter that I didn’t feel the sexual attraction to Heathcliff that I did to Ethan? I did find Heathcliff attractive. My God, who wouldn’t? Was it even real what I felt for Ethan? Would we crash and burn? Did I really want to be part of the Royal Family? It was hard enough to make friends just being the Chosen One. Heathcliff was attracted to me before he knew I was the Chosen One, but his motives could be suspect too.

“Is this about your sister?” I asked, praying it wasn’t.

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you trying to take me out of the running so Cathy can still be with him?”

“Again,” he said, looking at me like I was nuts, “what are you talking about?”

“Don’t your sister and Ethan . . . ” I trailed off.

“Do my sister and Ethan have sex? Is that what you’re asking?” I could feel him staring at me. I looked at the floor. “The answer is yes, occasionally, from what I understand . . . ” He stopped, debating whether to go on. He went on, “ . . . with the knowledge that when they find their true mates, their relationship is over and they will become friends.” I knew he didn’t want to tell me any of that. “My sister can look out for herself. Trust me, my intentions toward you have nothing to do with my sister. My intentions have everything to do with me and how I feel about you.”

“Are you asking me to mate with you?” I whispered.

“No,” he said, taking my hands in his, “not yet. I’m asking you to give me a chance. I’m asking you not to mate with anyone yet.” His eyes burned a shimmering green. “We have a connection. It may not be as crazy as the other one, but it’s real and it cannot be ignored. I just want you to give me a chance.”

Damn Vampyres, they were so beautiful it was hard to deny them anything. This one was making too much sense.

“I’m . . . I wish . . . ”
What in the hell was I trying to say?

He smiled gently at me. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother.”

“Thank you,” I murmured. He was probably the sweetest man I’d ever met, apart from The Kev. Kind, gentle, good and so pretty . . . I think he’s prettier than me.

“That’s not possible,” he smiled with those dimples. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Shitfire. Mind readers.

“Heathcliff, that’s not fair,” I laughed and quickly closed the doors in my head. His spicy, brown-sugary scent was making me feel a little slaphappy.

He chuckled, “I love how you say my name, and just so you know, I’m not always nice.” He smiled a killer sexy smile and I was glad I was sitting, because I felt my knees go a little weak. “Anyway, all’s fair in love and war.”

“How old were you when your mom died?” I asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“I was eight and Cathy was three,” he told me, pulling back a bit at the unexpected detour.

“Do you remember her?”

“Yes, I remember her well. She was beautiful inside and out. She had wild, dark curly hair and sky blue eyes. She had a lovely mouth, kissed us constantly, and she sang like the angels in Heaven.”

“She reminds me of my Nana,” I said wistfully.

“Your Nana?”

“My mom’s mom,” I sighed. “I adored her. She raised me. Not my mom. My mother was . . . um . . . .well, not so much into being a mother. Your mom sounds a lot like my Nana, right down to the singing voice of an angel.”

“Where is she? I’d love to meet her,” Heathcliff said.

“She died last fall.” I looked down and fiddled with my yoga pants. When I looked up he was staring at me so intently, if I still had breath it would have caught in my throat.

“You’ve had quite a few changes this year,” he said, reaching out to touch my face. If that wasn’t the understatement of the century.

I laid my hand over his as he placed it on my cheek. “Heathcliff, why do women die during the change if they’ve borne a child?”

“We don’t know. It may have something to do with the fact that a mother is from the light. She has created life and we are from the dark,” he said slowly, “but it’s a bad death . . . very prolonged and very painful.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Vampyres were not organized for thousands of years. It’s only in the last three hundred years or so that we have become internationally connected. We didn’t share information. We lived in hiding for the most part and our government, The Royal Family, was only accepted as law by some.”

He slid his hand down my face and arm and gently took my hand in his. “Many Vampyres tried to change their mortal wives only to have devastatingly tragic results, but they didn’t know. Many Vampyres . . . ” he paused, debating how much to say. “Many Vampyres who inadvertently killed their wives harbor a great resentment to our King.”

“Why?” I wasn’t following.

“Because he knew about this, yet he never spoke of it. The King’s first wife was Queen Paloma. She’s the mother of Princess Lelia, the Monarch of Africa.”
The gorgeous Betsy Johnson wearing Vamp who wanted to kill me in the graveyard.
“He loved her above all the others. She was strong and fun-loving as the stories go. She could hold her spirits well and trade stories with the men that would make them blush. She wanted the King to change her. She loved him so fiercely that she wanted to spend eternity with him, and he with her. They did it in secrecy. Her death was horrific and went on for several weeks . . . weeks filled with excruciating agony. The King wanted to kill himself, but she would not hear of it. She made him promise to go on, vowing to come back to him someday.”

“Has she come back?”

“Not yet,” Heathcliff said sadly. “He still waits for her. After her death, the King was so devastated he told no one for one hundred years what they had done or how it turned out. He never tried to change another one of his wives.”

“He had multiple wives?”
Holy shit, did Ethan have a bunch of wives too?

“Yes, that was an acceptable practice then, but most Vampyres practice monogamy, and when they find their true mate the point of multiple lovers is moot anyway.”

Thank you, Jesus.
“Did any of them know why he wouldn’t change them?” I was fascinated.

“No, and some were filled with great anger because of this. He changed all eleven of his children, but none of his wives. One of his wives in particular tried repeatedly to get him to change her. She resorted to begging, then eventually blackmail and attempts on his life.”

“Oh my God.” This was better than Jerry Springer. “What happened to her?” I asked.

“She was banished, and died after a while. It was her child who was supposedly killed,” he said.

“Do you think the King did it?” I loved me some Jerry Springer behavior.

“No, absolutely not,” Heathcliff said. “He loves all of his children to distraction. He searched for over a hundred years for Juliet. He still holds out hope that she is alive.”

“God, that’s sad . . . and weird,” I said.

“I’ve always found it odd that we have never found proof of her death,” he said.

God, he smelled good
. “Well, it would be awfully difficult to hide for five hundred years, dontcha think?”

“That would depend on your gifts.” He tilted his head to the side and looked me up and down slowly. “Someone like you could get away with a lot.” His eyes twinkled.

“Whatever do you mean?” Was I flirting? Yep, I was flirting.

“Well,” he said and moved toward me, “if you didn’t want to be somewhere, you could transport.” He kept moving closer. His scent was making me giddy. “For example,” he inched forward, “if you didn’t want to be here, with me . . . right now . . . in this car . . . wearing very little . . . ” His eyes flashed green as they roamed my body. “You could disappear,” he whispered.

Our lips were mere inches apart.

He was right. I could disappear, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to be here in this moment with him. The gorgeous green of his eyes was almost making me forget about Ethan. Almost. I’m not sure a tsunami would make me forget about Ethan. I felt a bit like I was cheating, but Heathcliff was right. We did have a connection and it was strong. I owed it to myself and to him to find out what it meant.

“I want to give you a chance,” I whispered. I felt my eyes go green. He grinned at me with those killer dimples. Those dimples could make a girl faint.

We leaned into each other very slowly, eyes locked, and we kissed. His lips were warm and soft and sweet. He cradled my head in his hands and deepened the kiss. He definitely knew what he was doing. I kissed him back, but . . .

We pulled apart and looked at each other in surprise.

“Let me try that again,” he said, trying to mask his confusion.

“Okay,” I agreed, re-situating myself so our bodies were closer. Maybe that was the problem. He leaned in and I let my lips part underneath his. I wrapped my arms around him and tried pressing my body into his.

Oh. My. God. Who was laughing? What the fu . . . ? It was me. I was laughing? Wait . . . he was laughing. Thank God it wasn’t me. Wait . . . Why in the hell is he laughing? Did I kiss funny? Shit, I was laughing. We were both laughing.

Clearly this is not working.

“What in the hell was that?” Heathcliff leaned back in his seat, still laughing and put his hands over his eyes.