Fanged Love, Book 1 Page 3

  Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I notice a tall man staring directly at me from a large window on the second floor of the castle. The vineyard manager is Neli, a petite red-haired woman. Is this the reclusive billionaire owner of the vineyard no one’s ever seen?

  I squint. It kind of looks like he’s wearing a top hat. Do people still wear those? Eccentric all right. Just the kind of guy who would build a medieval castle in the middle of Napa Valley. It must be him. He may be a little eccentric, but there’s no denying he knows how to run a successful winery.

  That’s it! I’m going over for a neighborly chat. Who knows how long he’ll be around before he jets off to whatever other properties he owns?

  I blink, and he’s gone.

  I square my shoulders and head back to my house, a new plan forming. I’ll bring some of the twins’ cupcakes as a neighborly offering. I need some out-of-the-box thinking to come up with a really good plan, and for that, I need to talk to an experienced successful colleague. So what if he spends all his time in hiding, making unusual wardrobe choices? That’s fine by me. It almost guarantees out-of-the-box thinking, right?

  A short time later, plastic container of a half dozen dark chocolate cupcakes in hand, I march determinedly down our long driveway in the cool morning air. Just one positive step forward could start the momentum in the right direction for our vineyard. The alternative is too devastating to consider. If the winery fails, where would my parents go? How would they support themselves? And the twins’ dream of culinary school? Goodbye. I’m not even sure we could get them loans with my parents’ level of debt.

  Still deep in thought, I cross the road. Even if the twins did manage to get loans, my parents would probably feel terrible they couldn’t do for my sisters what they did for me. Not that I asked them to. What a frigging mess.

  Perched up on a sprawling hill, the castle looms in front of me, with its majestic grandeur and old-world-style wealth. This is definitely the place to gain some hint at how to turn things around. It’s obviously a successful venture for them.

  I ignore the goosebumps rising on my arms as I hike up their cobblestone driveway and approach the drawbridge. I ignore the strange sensation that the air is cooler the closer I get to the castle. I am on a mission. I finally reach the large arched wooden double doors flanked by torches on either side—are those real torches?—and reach for the iron door knocker. I freeze and cautiously look around, ready to duck. I could’ve sworn I heard flapping wings nearby.

  Nothing. Strange.

  I turn back and knock twice, eager to meet my neighbor for the very first—and hopefully not last—time. I just know he’s got some pearls of wisdom to share. How could he not with such an award-winning successful winery?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Boz

  After sampling some of our new wines, I slide into my creaky wooden casket, ready to coffin down for the day. I am beat. There is much to learn about this new world that I have woken in. The changes to the winery production alone took me all night to comprehend. Machines now perform the tasks of twenty men, separating fruit from unwanted debris. Enormous steel vats now sit where there were once open wooden mash pits to crush the grapes and initiate fermentation. Neli says humans no longer wish to have “toe jam” with their wine.

  Blasphemy! Where do they think the true flavor comes from? Peasants have very flavorful feet.

  However, I tasted every batch in production and several barrels in the cellar. I must admit that while our new wines lack notes of blue cheese and earth, they are quite good.

  I remove my evening wear. I had been wearing a pair of Neli’s black “sweat pants” (that were very tight and hardly reached my calves) and a top hat and black cape Neli scrounged up from a bag of All Hallows’ Eve garments from her closet. I am pleased that my favorite religious holiday is still observed in these modern times. In any case, my own clothing has long disintegrated, and Neli has promised to bring me an additional outfit for tonight from something called a “thrift store,” as she claims it is the only place to find ruffled shirts and clothing that suits my taste on such short notice. She also mentioned procuring some additional outfits “on line.” I believe she means to steal them from a neighbor’s clothing line. I wonder what sort of leather pants are washed and dried in such a way.

  Now, appropriately naked, I lie down flat on my back, and a splinter pokes me right in my backside. Ouch! I must have Neli procure a new coffin immediately. This thing is about to fall apart. Yet, I almost do not care. I am simply that exhausted from my evening of learning. Oh, and hunting.

  Neli warned me not to venture out alone—too many things have changed, she said—but I am the Great Prince Bozhidar. I fear nothing and no one. Well, except those automobiles. Dear gods of the night, they travel almost as fast as I do! Almost. Which is why I am still with my head. I had been strolling near town, taking in some of the large, oddly rectangular buildings, when one of these vehicles nearly ran me over. Thank the gods for my fast reflexes.

  I then found a tavern where the female patrons dressed in what appeared to be undergarments—trousers with the legs missing and tops that exposed everything but the bosom. So indecent! Especially because they claimed not to be whores.

  I press my hand to my cheek. That blonde woman hit hard. But how was I to know she was not for sale? She also made fun of my “funky getup”—whatever that means. Hungry and weak, I had no choice but to wait around back and grab the first person who walked by: an older woman with a very bad flavor. I loathe dining on grandmothers. Or any sort of woman who is not a virgin.

  I wince and flick my tongue over my upper lip. So bitter. If it were not for that, I would have drained her dead. Instead, I used the age-old trick to wipe her mind of any memory of me, and sent her on her way. Tonight, I shall hunt again and find something sweet and tender to fill my belly.

  My mind quickly wanders to that woman I spotted walking outside moments ago. Her long brown hair was loose and wild, and her sun-kissed skin was concealed by a long dress meant to tease a gentleman’s imagination—sexy little vixen!—but even through the glass, with her at a distance, I could smell the virginal blood pulsing beneath her skin. So sweet.

  I will ask Neli about her when I wake tonight. To be sure, I have many questions about this new world, including how a vampire conceals himself, or more accurately stated, how he conceals his kills. Neli was very clear that in this day and age, my kind is nothing more than a myth. The villagers do not offer slaves or virgins or any of the perks I once enjoyed. Vampires have receded into the shadows, and nothing feels familiar except the constant ache in my belly. A vampire’s hunger is never quelled.

  My eyes start to close as the sun rises over the horizon.

  Gong! Gong!

  My eyes pop open. Someone is at the front door. I am sure Neli will get it. I cross my arms over my chest, which is now back to its gloriously muscular shape along with the rest of me. The silver speckles have returned to my dark eyes too. Even my long black hair has regained its lustrous shine. I am once again the grand stallion of the night, worshiped by every female who lays eyes on—

  Gong! Gong!

  Dammit. What does a prince of the night have to do around here to get his beauty rest? I push on the lid of my wobbly coffin. “Cornelia!”

  Silence answers me. Where is that girl? She has forgotten her place. I am her master, never to be disobeyed or displeased.

  The door gongs for a third time. That does it. Someone must want to be my bedtime snack.

  I hop from my coffin, zip up the stairs, and go to the front door, giving it a hard yank to yell at whatever merchant is peddling their wares at such an ungodly hour. “What the devil do you…” My voice trails off.

  Standing before me is the woman I saw through my window earlier. Her potent, sweet floral scent slams into me like a mallet to the face. It is painfully delicious.

  I step back and pinch my nose. Otherwise, I will have to pull her inside and devo
ur her—not the wisest decision when I am now a stranger in a strange land. Killing so close to home in such unfamiliar surroundings may prove problematic, if I am to heed Neli’s warnings.

  The young beauty with her silky dark hair and wide inquisitive eyes looks up at my face. Her gaze then begins the journey south until she realizes I am in my nightclothes. “Oh! Oh, God! You’re naked!”

  “Yes. As you can see,” I say, still holding my nose, “I am a man, and real men do not wear garments to bed. Now what may I do for you?”

  Cheeks red, she closes her eyes and holds out an odd-looking container of pastries. “I, uh…uh…just came by to introduce myself. I’m your neighbor from across the road, Stella Baker. I brought homemade cupcakes.”

  A baker at a vineyard? “I do not eat sugar, but I thank you all the same.” Suddenly, I realize two things. One, pinching my nose is completely useless. Her sweet, virginal scent is still entering my lungs and calling to me. And second, I am nude, which is normally no concern of mine—I am a man and modesty is for women—but for some odd reason my shaft is beginning to thicken.

  Must be due to my five-century slumber. I have not made love to a woman in a very, very long time. Otherwise, I am always in complete control of my body, including my generous manhood.

  “Very nice to make your acquaintance, but I am a busy man who needs a nap. Good day.” I slam the door in her face and glance down at my firmly standing erection.

  “Who was at the door…” Cornelia appears, her eyes glued to my nether region. “Boz! Seriously? Please tell me you did not answer the door naked with a giant boner.”

  I frown and grumble an ungentlemanly word. “Next time, answer the goddamned door.”

  There is a knock on the door. “Hello? Are you still there?” That persistent baker woman is still outside.

  Neli’s big green eyes go wide. “Who’s that?” she whispers.

  “A neighbor,” I reply, “coming to poke her nose around, under the guise of good tidings and offering baked goods she calls cupcakes.”

  “Oh great. And you just had to answer the door naked before slamming it in her face?”

  I shrug unapologetically. “It is my castle. I will do as I please.”

  Neli narrows her eyes at me. “We need to act like normal people running a normal winery. You don’t understand how quickly rumors spread these days.”

  “Hello?” The woman knocks once again.

  My, my. She is a persistent little thing. “Answer the door,” I whisper to Neli. “Tell her if she wishes to see another sunrise, she must never return.” My growling stomach takes no prisoners, and at the moment, it is painfully aware of the delectable treat just on the other side of that door.

  Neli gives me a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I mouth the word virgin and point to the door.

  Neli’s eyes go wider, and she shakes a pale finger at me. “You keep your fangs off her. I am not picking up this castle and moving again because you can’t keep ’em in your mouth!”

  “Then make her leave,” I say.

  “Fine.” Neli opens the door, and I hide behind it, carefully twisting my body so my still very frisky manhood is not injured. “Oh, it’s you! Great to see you again, Stella.”

  Stella is a name that rolls off the tongue like my beautiful native language. I like it. Wait. No, I hate it. As I hate her.

  I glance down at my groin, which calls my bluff.

  “Neli, right?” Stella asks.

  “Yes. Long time no see, Stella. What can I do for you?”

  Stella goes on to explain that she just returned home from her studies and is now working at her family’s vineyard across the way. This is not good. Avoiding such a tasty treat so close to home will prove challenging.

  “Anyway,” Stella continues, “I just stopped by to see if I could chat with the owner—maybe pick his brain a little on some marketing stuff, but I think I caught him at a bad time.” She adds with a whisper, “He was naked.”

  Neli coughs. “Was he? Darn it. Must be sleepwalking again. He works such long hours during the day, and sometimes at night too, dealing with our distributors overseas. It messes with his sleep patterns. I should go check on him, but thanks for coming by.”

  “These cupcakes are for you guys.”

  Neli takes them. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

  “It’s nothing,” Stella says, “but I was still hoping for that chat. Is there a better time for me to come back?”

  “Um…maybe around seven tonight? Prince Bozhidar has a late meeting, but I’m sure he’d love to help you in any way he can.”

  What the devil? I almost reach for Neli’s neck and slam the door in Stella’s face again. What is Neli up to? As is, I am ready to claw my way through the heavy wooden door just for a nibble of this woman. Why would Neli agree to have me meet with her?

  “Prince Bozhidar? The owner is royalty?” Stella asks.

  “Oh, uh…no, no. His first name is Prince, like the singer—rest in peace.”

  What? I am too a prince! Prince Bozhidar Alexandru of Transylvania.

  “Interesting. Well, tell Prince I said thank you. And please don’t mention the whole naked sleepwalking thing. I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable talking business with me, and it’s not his fault he has a problem.”

  “I won’t say a word,” Neli replies. “And he goes by Mr. Bozhidar. Just letting you know so the meeting goes well. He’s old-school when it comes to manners. I mean really, really old-school.”

  Stella laughs. “I’ll remember to curtsy, then.”

  Yes. And you should also offer me your body to feast on. Wait. No, no. I must remember not to eat the neighbors.

  “All right, well, see you then, Neli,” Stella says.

  “Sure. And thanks again for the treats. He’ll love them.” Neli shuts the door.

  I wait for the footsteps outside to fade into the distance before giving Neli a piece of my mind at full volume. “What has gotten into you, girl?”

  Neli flips her long red hair over her shoulder and folds her arms over her chest. I hate that she is still wearing men’s clothing—snug breeches and a white shirt with buttons down the front. So inappropriate. Women should always wear modest dresses, except when in my bedchamber. Then they should wear nothing.

  “She obviously wasn’t going to leave until I said yes,” Neli explains. “Besides, all you have to do is meet with her for one minute, and she’ll see you don’t know diddly-squat about marketing and go on her way.”

  “I know not what a diddly-squat is,” I snarl under my breath, “but you mean to make me look a fool, and I will not stand for it. I may be out of my element when it comes to living in this new world, but I know people, I know what entices them, and I know how to make the sort of wine that makes a person’s soul weep with joy.”

  Neli rolls her insolent eyes. “Fine. You’re the best, Boz. But we can’t afford to have her poking around, so you’ll have to get rid of her. Also, you need to keep that thing in your trousers.” Neli points to my erection. “I know how much you like virgins and what you do to them.”

  She is referring to the fact that I can never quite stop myself from drinking them to death. They taste too good.

  “First of all, I am not wearing any trousers. Second, you forget who is in charge. It is my castle, and I will do as I please.” I march off toward the kitchen. “And order me a new coffin! I want it delivered before I wake.”

  I return to the cellar and climb into my extremely uncomfortable coffin, forced to lie there for another hour before I can close the damned lid, lest I risk injuring my very stiff, very uncomfortable situation.

  I would take care of it myself, but I am a vampire. I can get any woman I want, and it is far more pleasurable to be serviced.

  Yes, tonight, I shall find someone to sate a different kind of hunger. And I shall stay far away from that baker woman with the pastries. Meeting. Hrrmph! Foolish Neli. It is a ridiculous idea. That human, Stel
la, has no idea how close she came to dying just now, and the last thing I want is to begin killing the town’s peasants. Not yet. Not until I am situated in this new time and place.

  Nevertheless, I drift off to sleep, thinking of Stella’s long flowing dress and sweet delicious scent.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Stella

  Naked hot man is really hard to get past. He was young too, maybe thirty at the most. No, not going there. I need to keep this professional. Stellariva Vineyards is not shutting down on my watch.

  Seeing Prince in all his sexy muscular—stop. He has a condition. A sleepwalking, fully erect condition, but that is beside the point. The only reason I’m thinking about him naked so much is because it was a shock. Yes, that’s why. Any woman would feel the same, even if they weren’t going through a sexual drought. Ahem. At our meeting tonight I’ll pretend I know nothing about his wide rounded shoulders, muscular chest, and impressive…other things. I flush with heat. He must hit the gym hard to get those six-pack abs and the deep V at the waist leading to—

  Business. This is business. I have a plan and a backup plan. I’m determined to get something useful out of this meeting. I can’t afford to be distracted. Not by how much younger he is than I thought he’d be, considering his level of success.

  Not by that body.

  And certainly not by his huge, thick…that!

  I follow my dad to our wine cellar to pick out two of our best vintage bottles—a pinot noir and a cabernet sauvignon—as a gift for my neighbor Prince. I mean Mr. Bozhidar. Neli says it’s important to use formal address because he appreciates old-school manners. No problem. If that’s all it takes to get in with him, I’ll consider myself lucky.