Мишель Роуэн - Fanged & Fabulous

I felt a wave of anxiety. “I need to find him. I have a major problem.”

He rolled his eyes. George was a waiter at the club. He’d also worked at Midnight Eclipse, and I considered him one of my very best fanged friends. Totally gorgeous, too. He had shoulder-length sandy blond hair, a square jaw, high cheekbones, full lips, and bedroom eyes. A body like a Chippendales dancer, or one of those hottie male models on the covers of romance novels. Yeah, George was damn hot.

Too bad he played for the other team.

“Marco dumped me,” he announced.

“Who’s Marco?”

“My boyfriend.” He frowned. “You knew that already.”

I shrugged, feeling too distracted to fully concentrate on what he was saying.

“He was one of the construction workers who worked on the club,” he said.

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll . . . I don’t know . . . meet somebody else.” I glanced around the dimly lit club. “So where’s Thierry?”

He sighed and leaned against the table. “Your lack of compassion for my acute depression is duly noted.

What’s yourtrauma du jour , anyhow?”

I quickly explained what had happened, starting with the jog and ending with my new nickname. George whistled.

“Well, that explains all these crazy rumors I’ve been hearing,” he said. “About some badass vampire in town. I never realized it was you. No offense.”

My anxiety increased another notch. “There are rumors? Already? What am I going to do?”

He appeared to think about it. “You should probably talk to Thierry.”

“Well,duh .”

I felt a rough tap on my shoulder and I turned around. A husky man wearing a dark blue ski jacket presented me with a fang-filled grin. “You Veronique?”

I stared at him blankly. “Not even remotely. Who are you?”

“I’m her ride to the airport.”

There was a sudden change in the air and I knew without a doubt the woman in question had just entered the room. The scent of expensive perfume wafted under my nostrils. I’d been turned into a vampire exactly seven weeks ago and my sense of smell had been growing daily. This was sometimes a blessing and sometimes—depending on where in the city I was walking—not so much.

I turned to watch her glide through the club.

Veronique eyed the driver and her red lips curved up to the right. “If you could give me one moment to say good-bye to my friend I would greatly appreciate it.”

He nodded, immediately intoxicated by the gorgeous woman with long raven hair, flawless skin, and remarkably white and sparkly fangs.

She glanced at the leaning tower of George and her eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“I was . . . I was just going to . . . ” he stammered, then gave me a stricken look. “Um . . . I’ll go find

Thierry.” He scurried away.

Well, her charms didn’t work on everyone.

But I liked Veronique. Actually I liked her a lot, but there was one big thing about her I wasn’t terribly fond of.

She was Thierry’s wife.

I had been assured that their marriage was in name only after more than six hundred years. Frankly, I couldn’t imagine knowing somebody for thirty years, let alone six hundred. But I still wasn’t thrilled with the situation. Dating a married man, even though the wife was fine and dandy with it, just seemed . . . extremely wrong.

I’d recently summoned enough courage to ask if she’d ever considered getting a divorce. Veronique had waved off my question with a laugh and said, “After so many years, why would I want something like that?”

Yeah. I’d managed to refrain from digging my fingernails into her perfect eyeballs. Barely.

So, as I said, I liked Veronique. But her recent decision to go back to her fabulous life inFrance wasn’t the most heartbreaking news I’d heard all year.

She gave me a tight hug, followed by a brief kiss on each of my cheeks. “Au revoir.” She leaned back.

“Are you all right, my dear?”

I forced a smile. “I’m fine. Have a nice flight. Bye now.”

“Are you quite certain? You look a little . . .malheureux .”

“I failed French in high school. But I feel fine.” I shrugged.Well, other than narrowly escaping death only hours ago , I thought.Again .

I looked over my shoulder. Where the hell was Thierry?

“I think I know what it is.” A smile played at her perfectly outlined lips. “You are afraid to admit how much you will miss me. I understand. But the time that I was needed here has passed and yours has just begun.”

My eyebrow perked up at that. Was she talking about Thierry? Maybe she’d given the divorce thing more thought. I shifted my feet, which now, instead of the Reeboks from my near-death jog, sported low-heeled, rubber-soled Tender Tootsies that looked okay with my black jeans. My trendier footwear was currently piled up at the back of my closet to make way for that which was consistently comfortable and easy to run in.

Proactive = Me.

Veronique reached into her tiny Fendi bag, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me.

“That is the number to my home in Paris . If you ever need to talk to someone, please don’t hesitate to call me. I know things will soon be difficult for you.”

I glanced at the card and then tucked it into the pocket of my jeans. “So you’ve heard about the hunters’ special new interest in me, too? Wow, rumors sure spread quickly, don’t they?”

Her forehead creased prettily. “No . . . though that is certainly cause for concern. I was referring to how distraught you will be when my Thierry leaves you.”

“Huh?” My forehead creased less prettily, and I scanned the nearly empty club again. “What? He’s leaving me? When did this happen?”

She shook her head. “No, not yet, my dear. I’m simply saying that when it does happen, please feel free to call me. I can dispense invaluable advice to help mend your broken heart.”

My eyes widened with every word.

The driver approached her. “We should be leaving now to catch your flight, ma’am.”

I just stared at Veronique. “Did Thierry say something to you? Is that why I can’t find him tonight? Is he avoiding me?”

She smiled patiently at me. “It is so sweet how taken you are with him. I am not saying this to upset you,

but it is quite obvious that this will only be a short-term relationship.”

“Short-term?”

“You have known him for what . . . less than two months, yes? I know he feels a great sense of responsibility for your safety. From the attention he has paid you, it is understandable that you would become greatly smitten with him.”

“Smitten?” I sputtered. “You think I’msmitten ?”

She frowned slightly at my words. “Thierry is almost seven hundred years old. You are . . . what? In your mid-thirties?”

“I AM TWENTY-EIGHT!”

“There is no reason to shout, my dear. I am trying to be a friend to you and tell you how things truly are,

so you will not be shocked by how things inevitably turn out. I have known Thierry for so, so many years. I know him better than anyone else. I am simply warning you to prepare for his interest to wane.”

She touched my arm. “I am sorry.”

The driver cleared his throat loudly. “If we don’t leave soon, ma’am, I’m afraid you’ll miss your flight and then I’ll—”

I spun around. “And then you’llwhat ?” I snapped.

He took a step backward. “Never mind. Take all the time you need.”

Veronique shook her head. “Mon dieu. I should not have said anything. It is simply my desire to see those I care about happy. Being in love with a man such as Thierry will not bring you happiness. He is too old for you. There are too many secrets. Simply too much against you. I apologize for being blunt, but I have only done so as a friend.”