Page 8 of Bad Luck Vampire

Elbowing Tybo sharply in the side to get his attention, she gave him what Bobby called her “death stare” and asked, “Care to explain this little conversation here? I’m your date. Not some chick to be passed around at parties.”

“Of course not,” Tybo said quickly. He then ran a frustrated hand through his hair and muttered to himself before glancing at his wristwatch and scowling. “I don’t have time to explain right now. I really have to go put the wedding rings in Sinbad’s basket.”

Before Sophie could respond, he turned to Marguerite and said, “You’re going to have to handle Sophie. But she’s my date tonight. She came with me and she’s leaving with me.”

“Tybo,” Marguerite began in warning, and he scowled harder.

“I’ll be a complete gentleman the whole night and then see her home safely, but I’m not dancing with myself at this wedding. She’s my date tonight, Marguerite. Alasdair can have her tomorrow.” He didn’t wait to hear what Marguerite had to say about that, but simply turned and strode quickly away.

Sophie watched him go, hard-pressed not to chase after him and demand an explanation. She didn’t understand what the two had been talking about, and didn’t like not understanding. But she definitely didn’t like the bit about Alasdair could have her tomorrow?

“Sophie dear.”

She tore her gaze away from Tybo’s retreating back and turned to the other woman, fully expecting her to explain what Tybo hadn’t been able to.

But instead of explaining anything, Marguerite’s gaze became intense again as it had when she’d taken her hands earlier and she said, “Everything is fine. The discussion I just had with Tybo is of no consequence whatsoever. You should forget about it.”

Oddly enough, Sophie felt herself nodding in agreement, suddenly quite sure that this was true and that the conversation she was so concerned about was of no consequence whatsoever. Hardly worth remembering. She should just forget all about it really, Sophie thought, as Marguerite took her arm to usher her into the tent.

Three

“Is Valerian finally here, then?”

Half-asleep in his chair, Alasdair stirred at that question from Lucian Argeneau and turned to glance at the man who had apparently settled in the seat next to him with his wife, Leigh, and their son and daughter on his other side. The head of the North American Council of Immortals, Lucian was both powerful and ancient, but you wouldn’t know it to look at him. At least not the ancient part. With platinum blond hair, silver-blue eyes, and youthful good looks, the man didn’t appear more than twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old. Nowhere near the thousands of years old he actually was. As for the powerful part, the way Lucian carried himself and the ice chips in his eyes definitely gave that away, Alasdair thought, and then realized the man wasn’t speaking to him but someone past him.

Alasdair turned his head to see his twin brother, Colle, easing sideways along the row of empty seats toward them. While Colle had collected people from the helicopters as they arrived and driven them in a golf cart to the tents, Alasdair had helped out by setting out chairs for the ceremony. He’d finished his job ages ago and had been mostly standing around and then sitting, waiting for everything to begin since. Hence why he’d been nodding off in his seat.

Damn, weddings were boring as hell so far, he thought with mild irritation. He hadn’t been to any before this. Valerian was the first of their generation to marry.

“Yes, Valerian’s here,” Colle answered as he took the seat next to Alasdair. “He flew in with Tybo and his date, so now everyone’s here. The wedding should start on time.”

“Good. Then we’ll be eating soon,” Lucian growled with satisfaction. “I hope Natalie made those peanut butter chicken wrap things I like so much.”

“Thai chicken wraps,” Alasdair corrected.

“Yes. Those,” Lucian agreed, although Alasdair had no doubt the man would just keep calling them “peanut butter chicken wraps.”

“Really?” Lucian’s wife, Leigh, gasped with disbelief. The petite brunette scowled at her husband. “You can’t be hungry already, Lucian. I made you a meal before we left to tide you over until the dinner.”

“Salad is not a meal, Mother,” their son, Luka, said from the other side of Leigh, drawing a grunt of agreement from his father.

“It was Caesar salad,” Leigh said with exasperation. “And Caesar salad is a meal.”

“Lettuce with imitation bacon bits and vegan parmesan made from garlic and cashews,” Lucian growled with disgust.

“And vegan Caesar salad dressing,” Luka added.

“Caesar salad and garlic bread,” Leigh said firmly, ignoring the commentary. “That is a meal.”

“Rabbit food,” Lucian and Luka muttered under their breaths in stereo, making Leigh glare from one to the other with irritation.

While Colle didn’t hold back his laughter at this exchange, Alasdair didn’t want to offend Leigh, so turned his head away to cough into his hand to cover his laugh. It was then that he noticed the woman making her way along the row of seats toward them. Alasdair paused and stared. The lass was lovely with tan skin, large eyes that were a brown so dark they almost appeared black, a small high-bridged nose, and full almost heart-shaped lips. Her hair was a long, wavy chestnut. She was beautiful, and slightly exotic. His guess was that she had a mixed ancestry... and he didn’t know her from Adam. That was somewhat unexpected. He’d met all of Natalie’s friends prior to the wedding, and the rest of the guests were Argeneaus, Nottes, MacKenzies, or hunters, most of whom he knew.

Curious, he glanced toward the couple following the lass and his eyebrows rose when he recognized his uncle Julius and aunt Marguerite. His gaze barely skated over Julius, but caught on Marguerite when he noted the gleam in her eyes and the satisfied, almost knowing smile on her lips.

Wariness creeping over him, Alasdair stood even as Colle did. It was habit, manners drummed into them from youth. A man always stood when a lady approached.

“Alasdair darling, and Colle,” Marguerite said, her smile blossoming into a full one. “Let me introduce Sophie Ferguson. She’s Tybo’s date and is kind enough to have agreed to sit with us while Tybo is busy with his best man duties.”

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