Page 10 of Bad Luck Vampire

“You think too much, bro,” Colle said quietly. “I’ll be fine. I’m happy for you. Besides, if I know Marguerite, she’ll now be actively looking for a life mate for me. Trust me, soon enough, we’ll both be settled with life mates.”

Alasdair turned to peer at him with surprise. “You can read my mind now?”

Colle smiled crookedly and shrugged. “New life mate brain, brother. Every immortal here can now no doubt read you like an open book. Even me.”

Alasdair sank back in his seat at this news. New life mate brain. It was a thing. Even Lucian, one of the oldest and most powerful immortals, who no one had been able to read previously, had temporarily been easily read by everyone after finding his life mate, Leigh.

Alasdair shook his head. Damn. Sophie was definitely his life mate, or a possible life mate at any rate. As Lucian had so kindly pointed out, whether she became his official life mate was up to her. It wasn’t something he could force. He’d have to woo her, charm her, and convince her to—

Dear God, he thought suddenly. Charm was something he was sadly lacking in and knew it. Colle was the twin who had inherited that ability. He himself didn’t have the patience for it, and found the tendency to chatter, flirt, and compliment others somewhat disingenuous. He usually left that up to Colle while he remained silent and alert for trouble and knew that tended to intimidate people. How the hell was he going to woo Sophie?

“Colle, take your brother for a walk,” Lucian said suddenly.

Blinking away his thoughts, Alasdair glanced at the head of the North American Council in question as Colle stood up.

“You’re panicking,” Lucian Argeneau said dryly. “It’s painful to hear. Go for a walk and clear your head.”

Alasdair scowled at the man, but didn’t argue, mostly because he was feeling panicky at the chore ahead of him to gain his life mate. He stood to follow Colle as his brother scooted past Lucian, Leigh, and their teenaged twin son and daughter, Luka and Gemma, to get out of the row.

Sophie sensed motion beside her and turned to see that the men Marguerite had introduced as Colle and Alasdair were making their way to the aisle. Her gaze traveled over the pair and then settled on the one named Alasdair. Other than the fact that Alasdair was wearing a charcoal gray suit, and Colle had on a lighter gray one, they were identical. They were also both gorgeous. At about six feet tall with short dark hair and muscular bodies, they fully fit the tall, dark, and handsome description, but it was their eyes that made them something special. Like herself, both had eyes so dark a brown they appeared black, but their eyes had gold flecks that she found beautiful.

Sophie watched until they disappeared into the crowd, and then turned to peer at the dais at the front again. It was what she’d been doing since sitting down, mostly to keep from gawking at the man who had been seated beside her, which had been really hard not to do. Big as he was, he’d taken up more space than most men would in the chairs that had been set out. Enough that his outer leg had pressed lightly against hers the moment he’d sat down, and his arm had brushed her own whenever he’d shifted in his seat to talk to his brother or the other man next to his brother.

Sophie had been aware of the conversation taking place next to her, but she couldn’t say what had been said. Their voices had been so low they’d been hard for her to hear. Besides, while she’d been staring at the dais and its trappings, her attention had been on her body’s reaction to the leg pressing and arm brushing going on . . . and what a reaction it had been. Never in her life had she had such a visceral response to such a harmless and unintentional action. Alasdair most likely hadn’t even noticed what was happening, but she had. Goose bumps had broken out all over her body, her nipples had pebbled, and a liquid heat had swelled low in her stomach and rushed down between her legs leaving her wet and a hair’s breadth away from panting and squirming on her seat. How pathetic was that?

The worst part was that she was reacting like that to a complete stranger, all while here on a date with Tybo, who was perfectly nice, and a good-looking guy to boot. Not as good-looking as Alasdair, of course, but—

“Idiot,” she muttered under her breath with self-derision.

“What was that, dear?” Marguerite asked.

Sophie felt herself flush at being overheard, but she shook her head and muttered, “Nothing. Just talking to myself. A bad habit I have.”

“One I have myself,” Marguerite said sympathetically.

Nodding, Sophie focused on the dais again, ready to let the conversation die, but Marguerite apparently wasn’t done with her.

“Colle and Alasdair work with Tybo.”

Sophie turned to her with interest. “They’re cops too?”

Marguerite blinked, and hesitated a beat, then smiled. “They are in law enforcement, yes.”

“Hmm.” Sophie twisted in her seat to look in the direction the men had taken, but they’d got lost in what was essentially a sea of tall men. Seriously, they seemed to grow them big out here, she thought, and then frowned as she noted that there appeared to be several men who looked very like the twins. Most of the men had the same dark hair and eyes, and were equally tall, but few were quite as wide and muscly. However, they were all either sitting on the opposite side of the aisle or heading that way.

“That’s the MacKenzie side,” Marguerite told her, taking note of where she was looking, and then added, “The groom’s side.”

“And this is the bride’s side?” Sophie asked.

“Technically, yes.” Marguerite smiled. “However, Natalie doesn’t have any close family other than her daughter, and has only a handful of close friends and employees in the area, so it was decided that some of us would sit on her side to support her. So, even though Alasdair and Colle are MacKenzies, they took seats on this side for Natalie.”

Sophie thought that was kind. She didn’t really have any family other than the Tomlinsons and would have found herself in a similar predicament.

“So, Alasdair’s last name is MacKenzie?” Sophie asked with interest.

“Actually, I think it’s Notte this decade,” Marguerite murmured absently as she glanced around.

“This decade?” Sophie asked with confusion.

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