Angie Fox: Love Bites

Katarina Volholme D’Transylvania checked her teeth for lipstick and then, as if to tempt fate, added another layer of Sinfully Scarlet gloss. This was it. Her rebel moment. And it had only taken 873 years.

Her fingers shook as she stowed the gloss into the back pocket of her black leather pants. They felt wickedly snug. Glorious. Her mother would have had a heart attack. Well, if her mother’s heart still beat.

Katarina, or Kat as her family called her, belonged to one of the oldest vampire families in Romania. She’d learned to sit straight, mind her manners and never, ever drink from the help. She’d been the perfect little princess. Until now.

Butterflies tickled her stomach. She parted the rich velvet stage curtain, blinking at the overhead lights.

If she didn’t do it now, she never would.

“You ready, sweetheart?” A handsome, grey-haired vamp clapped her on the arm, treating her to a sly smile and a wink as he passed.

“More than you’ll ever know.” Once. Just once, she was going to do something for herself. And if it ruined her reputation for the next century? She’d worry about that tomorrow.

Adrenaline raced through her body as spotlights popped to life.

An exaggerated drum roll sounded as the grey-haired vamp jogged out on stage. He threw his arms out, clearly eating it up. “Welcome toooo Love Bites!” The audience went wild as the game-show band started in on a lively round of theme music. The affable vamp gave an exaggerated bow. Television cameras followed his every move.

“Each week, one lucky lady gets to pick from not two, but three vampy studs to find her one true love. Will it last for the evening, or for all eternity? That’s up for grabs on stage tonight. I’m your host, Frankie G. Winner, coming to you live from Kiev, the undead capital of the world, with the hottest show on Vamp TV.”

Kat sucked in a breath. Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. But, hell’s bells, she had to take charge of her life. Now.

“Sponsored by Swiss Storage. For memories of a lifetime. Trust Swiss Storage. And by Fang-zite. The all natural Male Fang Enhancer. Show her you’ve got a little something extra . . . with Fang-zite.”

“Go,” the stage director ordered.

Kat smoothed her red silk top and, with more confidence than she felt, strutted out under the blaring game-show music and lights, her glam-girl earrings tickling her long pale neck. I am immortal, hear me roar.

The studio audience seemed to stretch for miles. Never mind the countless vamps watching at home. Her stomach tingled.

Her parents were going to kill her.

Stop it. There was nothing wrong with dating. Most vamps got to date. Only the royals were forced to marry people they barely knew. And because of their stupid rules, she’d endured centuries of a loveless marriage. She deserved a little fun.

Frankie brushed his lips against her cheek as the clapping from the audience died down. “Princess Katarina Volholme D’Transylvania,” he said, rolling her name on his tongue like a fine wine. “You are the only daughter of the King of Romania. Newly single after 856 years and I must say you smell terrific.”

Kat smiled inwardly. The perfume was her own creation.

“Are you ready to find the man of your dreams?”

“Bring ’em on,” she purred.

Frankie urged Kat into a cute little perch on a barstool that had to have been designed for a giant. Add that to the fact that she didn’t usually wear heels. The lights suddenly seemed too bright.

Relax. It was just like when Grandpa fought the Byzantines. Move with purpose, move with power.

Kate glided into the hot seat, and eased her glossy black hair from her shoulders. Frankie nodded in approval and she grinned despite herself. If she played it right, no one would even know she’d learned her modern English from watching American Idol .

A blood-red wall separated her from the male contestants. Frankie rested a smooth hand on her shoulder. “Are you ready to meet the bachelors?”

She nodded as the lights came up on the other side.

“Mozart,” he called, “can we get a drum roll, please?”

The flame-haired bandleader spun his sticks and began pounding a wild, jungle beat.

“Let’s say hello to our first contender,” Frankie announced. “Bachelor number one hails from ancient Rome, where he wowed the ladies in the pits of the Coliseum. Today, he runs his own security firm and enjoys extreme sports. But will bachelor number one have the sword and the strength to win this lady’s hand? We’ll find out tonight.”

The audience hooted and hollered. Kat fought the urge to peel at her Wildly Red nail polish. Bachelor number one sounded promising. Then again, her father hadn’t liked the Romans since they’d invaded his lands in the second century. Stop it, she chastised herself. Nothing would please her dad except her marrying Vlad the Detailer. While he wasn’t as obscenely old as her former husband, he was just as vanilla. Worse, he was chief of operations for his cousin, Vlad the Impaler. Kat had met them both at a dinner party a few hundred years ago and let’s just say they were bat crazy , always trying to conquer something. Even if her dad thought Vlad would make a nice, ambitious husband for her, it just wasn’t worth it.

“Our second bachelor hails all the way from England where he was a big hit as a royal executioner at the Tower of London. These days, he makes his living slicing and dicing news articles. Our bachelor is a journalism professor at the University of Missouri. But can mere words provoke the passion of a princess? We’ll find out.”

A group of women in the back started whistling. He must be good-looking. Most vamps were, but still, it took something special to get them going. Kat crossed her legs. She wouldn’t mind being hot for the teacher.

“Bachelor number three hails from the Scottish Highlands. He’s as comfortable in a tartan as he is at the table on the World Champion Poker tour. Want to finally know what’s under that kilt? Bachelor number three is betting on true love.”

She had always wondered about men in kilts. And she was more than ready for a little adventure after being cooped up for the last eight and a half centuries. Vamps mated for life and let’s just say her husband hadn’t exactly gotten out of the castle much.

To be fair, he was almost 2,000 years old when she’d married him. He’d been an old, old, old friend of the family’s – her parents’ choice, of course. He’d spent his nights dissecting the moths that flew into his study window. Or eating songbirds. He’d never had time for Kat. Marrying her had been a favour to her father and the crown, nothing more.

“And now,” Frankie said like he was announcing the cure for sunlight, “it’s time for our bachelorette’s first question.”

Kat sat up a little straighter and began reading the first pink question card. “As you may know, I haven’t been out much in the last few centuries and I’m up for a fun time, maybe even a few surprises.” She emphasized the last word as the card instructed. “Bachelor number one, where would you take me on our first date?”

“Well, Katarina . . . ”

The Roman’s voice sounded smooth, velvety. Kat succumbed to a very un-princess-like fidget.

“I’d take you to paradise, baby, because that’s where you’d be after one kiss from me.”

She forced herself not to gag. The Romans always did like their poetry, but sheesh – she’d expected more from a gladiator.

Kat glanced at the endless audience and immediately regretted it. After living quietly for so many years, it felt strange to be in front of so many people.