Page 8 of The Guardian's Curse

“It’s not your business.”

“If it becomes Auberon business, then it is.”

“And if that happens, you’ll be the first to know,” she said. He glared down at her, and she glared back.

Finally, he shook his head slightly, as if to say suit yourself. After carefully removing the jumper cables, he coiled them up and closed her hood. “Get a new battery, Shoshanna.”

He waited for her to get into her car and shut the door. His crimson eyes followed her as she backed out of the parking spot. She didn’t release her breath until she was around the block from Infinity and cruising toward her apartment across town.

Freaking vampires. She glanced at the clock and groaned. It was already three in the morning, and she had to be up for an early shift at Average Joe’s. Maybe she was doing it all wrong and should have taken up Eduardo on his offer.

The woman in the red dress was probably having a much better night than she was. Two hot vampires devouring her whole and paying her for the privilege. There were much worse ways to make a buck. The Lady in Red was way smarter than she was, that was for damn sure.

“Blame your pride,” she mocked.

Freaking vampires.

3

The scent of the human woman lingered in Alistair’s nose, even as he stood in the luxurious upper lounge overlooking the club. He watched through tinted glass as she followed Dominic through the crowd. A dozen heads turned her way, hungry scarlet eyes sizing her up.

He could hardly blame them. Wrapped in a glittering black dress, her narrow waist and curvy hips were magnetic. Short black curls framed the face of an angel with full cheeks and kissable red lips.

“Has Dominic finally found a girl?” Alistair asked as Paris approached him. He accepted the warm glass placed in his hand, still watching the beautiful woman from above.

Paris scoffed. “Hardly. She put all the protective wards on this place. I would have introduced you if you hadn’t walked off like a brooding cliche.”

“Ah, yes,” Alistair said. “I’m certain that every human woman is dying to meet the hideous monster of the Auberon court. It’s what fairy tales are made of, truly.”

Paris rolled his eyes. There was a quiet knock on the door, and he called, “Come in.”

A woman with short, dark hair bustled through the door. Her petite frame and pixie cut gave her an elfin beauty that was untouched by time. “Alistair!” she exclaimed. The woman bustled past Paris and launched herself at Alistair. He stiffened as her strong arms encircled him, squeezing him tight. When she looked up at him, she flinched for a split second before recovering her bright smile.

“Zephyrine,” he said politely, extricating himself. “You look stunning as always. The hair suits you.”

“Everything suits her,” Paris said.

“Go find us a snack,” Zephyrine said. Paris sighed and left the lounge. Rolling her eyes at the door, she muttered, “Sycophant.”

“He means well,” Alistair said. “And he’s not wrong.”

“Flatterer,” she murmured. She clasped his gloved hand and drew him to the long leather couch, giving him no choice but to follow. He went to pour her a drink from the warming carafe on the low table, but she waved it off. “Alistair Thorne, how long has it been? Ten years? How have you been? Tell me everything.”

He hesitated. Ten years of living alone, hiding from the world. Ten years to stew in his mistakes and to know that all he suffered was his own doing. “To be honest, I’ve done very little. Tell me of yourself.”

“Oh, not much,” she said. “I’ve spent the last few years in Japan. You know I’ve always loved to learn languages, and what better way to learn? And the shopping, Alistair, my God,” she babbled. If there was one thing Zephyrine Lenoir always enjoyed discussing, it was herself. And she was quite an interesting woman, to be fair. Even so, he would have rather avoided her, if only so he didn’t have to see that flinch and the quick fake smile. It was easier decades ago, but the Internet and smartphones had made it much harder to avoid her zealous need to stay connected.

As she detailed the colorful Akihabara shopping district, there was a shuffle of feet at the door. He heard a sharp breath just before the door swung open. A human male, dressed in an expensive but poorly tailored suit, stood in the open doorway. He shifted nervously. “Miss Lenore?”

“Lenoir,” she said, emphasizing the French pronunciation. “Are you here for me?” He nodded. Zephyrine crooked her finger, scooting over to make room between them. Alistair watched hungrily as she stroked his brow. Her eyes were already brightening to a rich red, the venom on her fangs filling the air with a potent sweetness. “Is this your first time?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, averting his eyes from her intense stare.

“What is your name?”

“Thomas,” he said. “Ma’am.”

“Thomas,” she purred, gazing at Alistair as she unbuttoned the top of his shirt. “You’re wonderfully polite. A lost quality these days.” Her graceful fingers traced his throat, then his collarbone. Thomas’s pupils dilated as the first hints of arousal took him, even before her lips touched his skin. One small hand slid over the older man’s belly as she slowly bit into his throat. He gasped, back arching as he let out a quiet sigh. Pain creased his face, but it quickly faded into pleasure. His eyes were glazed as Zephyrine drank from him.

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