Page 2 of Master Botosoni

My jaw tightens. “You and Sheba have kept the peace between the factions for years as a result of your respect for one another, and now he turns. You have every right to want to handle that part personally, but I too will see my brother avenged. I want proof that the shifter who killed him is dead. And if he isn’t, I will be the one to end him.” Overmaster Descallia doesn’t answer for a minute, but I’m not waiting for permission because I’m not asking.

Descallia clears his throat and lets my comment go. “We’re in Sardinia, and the journey to Romania is long. We’ll wait until dusk tomorrow and then travel if all goes according to plan.”

I pull the collar of my coat higher to ward off the wind and swirling of snow. “That will give me time to get some stores in order, talk to the lords in the region, and nose around a little bit. If they were seen in the forest, my guess is they’re heading to the Carpathian Mountain range. If they are, we’re going to need to be prepared for werewolves and witches too. The land along that entire range is going to keep coming up time and time again until we take it from those cackling witches.”

Descallia sighs. “Maybe Lucianna is right. Maybe our journey was always leading us right back to that mountain range. To the point where all of our secrets lie, and a place we all continue to call our own and defend, but her powers of sight are great. She said that they will be hiding amongst us, drinking and dancing.”

The wind swirls around me as I walk back to my car, thinking of all the night clubs in the city. Impossible to be in them all, but the lords can help with that. I pull up the collar of my jacket. No matter the temperature in the Northeastern quadrant of Romania, Botosoni always feels damp and cold this time of the year. The engine of the solid black sports car roars to life and unlocks with a press of my finger to the remote. I get in and buckle, watching a young couple make their way into the club that I just left.

He presses a hand to the woman’s lower back, keeping her steady as she wobbles on the cobblestone in the four-inch stylish heels. She turns and looks up at him with a smile underneath the lamp that causes me to keep watching.

His clothes aren’t designer, yet she looks at him as though he is a god. That smile alone gives me hope for humanity. The very reason we will fight to the bitter end against the rogues who would rip their throats apart just for a new and fresh source of blood. I pull out onto the street and navigate the short ride before turning off into the rural roads that wind through the hills far above the main street, allowing the guards who surround the wrought iron fence around the property an undeterred view of anyone coming up the hill without invitation.

I pull off the main road and drive up the long entrance to my property with my thoughts on all the hottest clubs in town that any of our enemies could be hiding out in. The guard at the station comes out to talk to me. I don’t need him to tell me what’s wrong, though. I can smell the stink of those mangy fuckers as soon as I roll down my window.

Chapter 2

Catina

I stretch my legs under the small café table and wrap my hands around my quickly cooling coffee, inhaling the decadent aroma. A luxury that I can ill afford, but at least the café owner won’t be on my ass about making a purchase and taking up seats that could be used by other paying customers.

A glance at the clock tells me that anytime the women from the village will be stopping in to have their fortunes told, some on their way home after a long day at the factory, some after grocery shopping and before picking the kids up from school, and some who have nothing to go home to, like me. But are hopeful that I can give them some brightness to look forward to in their future.

I glance around the coffee shop and take in the room, curious about the way others live. People who just like to spend their time with others around, soaking in the ambience of being with others, of somehow not being alone, if only for a few brief moments of the day. Souls who will give anything to know a little bit more about the future in their lives, how their past or current situations blend together with what I see in their futures. These are the inquisitive people who pay the bills, as long as I’m in the right place at the right time. Because the rest, does the work itself.

Astrology doesn’t lie. You can’t cheat it, beat it, or wrap it in something that it’s not. It’s the power of the universe. There may be different ways to harness and understand astrology and a person’s past, present, and future, but you ask any good astrologer, or psychic, call us what you will, and everyone will tell you the same damn thing. It doesn’t matter what methodology you use; it’s going to point you to the truth. Every single time, with little to no exceptions that I can recall.

I reach down and pull the knee-high sock that’s slipped down in my boot up, cussing the poorly crafted elastic that’s supposed to hold it up. I unzip the length of worn leather and pull it back up over my calf, and zip it up for the umpteenth time today. Socks, next on my list after a good day of astrology reads. I silently pray that today will be that day because the paper bills in my pocket are almost gone while the ones sent by the collectors gathering dust on the table at home are piling up faster than I can hope to repay.

I glance around the dimly lit shop, inhaling the delicious smells of hazelnut, chocolate, and well churned cream. I take another sip of my cooling coffee and adjust the Tarot Cards in front of me.

A waitress passes by to take a customer’s order and gives me a glare. I ignore her, glancing at the counter to see if Aleah is working. The curly redhead with a bright smile, who always has at least one kind word to say, no matter how busy it is or how long I’ve been sitting here taking up space and not buying a thing.

It's taken hours today to get three customers. A slow day for sure. But by the time my third customer takes their leave, happy with their future and eager to go and share it with a loved one, I can rest a little easier. Three customers may not put money in the bank, but it will help with the necessities for another few days. I gather my things, putting them into my bag for the long walk home as dusk settles around the sleepy little town.

The roar of a sports car’s engine outside catches my attention through the window. I watch it take off from the light that’s just turned green and race toward us, then suddenly pull a U-turn. With almost race car driver precision, it swings around to park right in front of the little café.

A cold chill runs down the length of my spine. I’d recognize that car anywhere now that it’s closer. Master Botosoni, one of the most respected but feared vampire masters in all of the land is the only man who drives or can afford such a car in these parts. A black as midnight Bugatti Veyron. Just like its owner, dark and powerful. A man of such wealth that he can afford to purchase most of the premium land in the Botosoni region for the sole purpose of building a mansion for no one else but him.

Well, maybe for him and all the others he employs. In all fairness, he does employ more people than most of the small businesses in town, and I hear the wages are good, but still. How should one man have so much, and the rest of the world have so little? I sigh, thinking of my father and brothers traveling across the land at this very minute, looking for any work they can find. Well, any work that my father thinks is suitable for him and my brothers. And it certainly isn’t working in any of the numerous factories, the shops along the street, or the multiple positions Master Botosoni offers at his vast estate. No, Pappa would never have that, decent work though it may be.

Customs and culture mean everything in Pappa’s world, and he and my brothers will support our family in the manner in which he was raised. No matter that they may need to travel for days or weeks on end to meet up with others in the same situation. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so spiteful about not wanting to go after what happened with my brother.

Maybe I should have traveled with them again this year. The thought of being the constant conversation of the women and men who pity my parents for their spinster daughter who has yet to meet an eligible man to wed at the ripe old age of twenty-one was just too much to bear, though. I may be older than most of the girls getting wed, but it’s not like I’ve given my virginity away, for crying out loud.

My lips purse with indignation. Let them explain why I’m not there. Maybe they thought it would be easier if they didn’t have to explain. Hell, maybe that’s why they didn’t fight me harder when I said I wanted to stay. The burden of their shame settles over me again, and it takes a bit to shake it off, but the minute Master Botosoni walks into the café, with his short dark hair, trim mustache, and goatee, the heat of my shame turns to a cold, spine-numbing chill.

His dark eyes scan the café as he walks in, his eyes flashing red as he looks toward me and beyond. Intent on what he came for, he heads toward the long ordering counter. His jeans hug his powerful thighs and muscular buttocks as he strides across the white stone flooring toward the counter.

The waitress who glared at me just hours ago is now batting her long fake eyelashes at the vampire who could sear her to death with the rays of his eyes. She may not be afraid or know what he’s capable of, but I’ve read everything there is to read about his kind. Even the sexual proclivities that his kind tend to like, and my father would consider deviant at best.

I may not have hung out with all the popular girls in school, and I may not mingle in the clubs that he and the vampires are rumored to hang, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hear things about the clubs that offer a wide variety of sex. Everything has a price tag if you have a membership, and word around town is that Master Botosoni not only has a membership but is part owner of the most scandalous club in the city, Club Descallia.

My eyes roam over the length of the tall vampire standing at the counter. I should leave, at least move and quit staring, but there’s something on the periphery of my mind that I can’t quite bring into focus, and I’m sure it’s about him. I focus hard, but everything becomes blurry and shadowing, until the minute it becomes quite clear and causes my cheeks to heat and my blood to race.

Just the thought of what the powerful master vampire is capable of doing with those large hands, muscular thighs, and hips sends goosebumps tingling down my length and straight to my center. If he were the one to take my virginity, he would be controlling things; he would be in the driver’s seat, and I would be obeying his every command as he taught me everything there is to know.

A good Romanian girl from a good Romanian family shouldn’t be thinking of what a powerful vampire master can do to her. I should be thinking about the offers of marriage that my father keeps trying to ram down my throat.

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