Page 51 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Three

And thinking this—today—makes me realize it’s my birthday.

“I need you to get up,” Bran says.

I groan. “Can’t you just carry me to bed?”

“It’s not that.”

I look up at him with clearer focus. “Then what?”

Please tell me it’s not some other crisis. Some other secret or war on the horizon. I can’t take anymore.

“Bianca is here and she wants to speak to you.”

“Oh?” I sit up and look around the living room, but don’t spot my witch friend.

“She’s in the main house,” Bran says. “Come.” He straightens and offers me his hand. Before I take it, I give my sister another glance. “Kels?”

“Hmmm?” she mumbles, her eyes still closed.

“I’ll be back in a bit. You’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice is muzzy and faraway.

I follow Bran out of the Anneliese and smooth down my hair as we walk. I’ve never gotten the impression that Bianca is the type to judge people, but it’s hard not to feel sloppy and inferior next to her. She’s always put together. Always looking fierce.

Bran leads the way across the courtyard, then through the halls of Duval House. The hallways are full of vampires either returning to the party or leaving it. There’s still a few hours left of darkness and they seem dedicated to taking advantage of it in one way or another.

Everyone we pass nods at Bran then immediately casts their gaze to the floor.

He ignores all of them.

We enter a sitting room with a giant fireplace and an oil painting of a black horse hanging over the mantel in a gilded frame.

I immediately know this is one of Bran’s personal spaces. It smells like him. Feels like him. And looks like him.

Except for the horse painting. That’s the only thing that sticks out from the décor.

I never took him for a horse enthusiast. Of course, he comes from a time when horses were the only mode of transportation so maybe I’m wrong.

Bianca rises to her feet when we enter. She’s wearing a pleated plaid skirt with a navy-blue sweater, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

As she rises, two delicate gold chains slide down to her wrist.

Despite the late hour, she looks like she just walked off stage from a mock political campaign at a New England boarding school.

I must look like I just rolled off a couch.

“Jessie, hi,” she says and smiles brightly at me.

“Hey, Bee. It’s nice to see you.”

She nods and then looks at Bran.

He sighs behind me. “I promised Bianca I’d let her speak to you alone. I am a man of my word.” But he smiles tightly while he says it, like it gives him no great pleasure. “You have ten minutes,” he adds and then leaves, shutting the door behind him.

“He’s probably just listening somewhere beyond the room,” I warn her.

“I know.” She breathes out through her nose with exasperation. “But I suppose it’s the show of privacy that’s most important. Come here. I feel like it’s been forever since we saw each other last.” She holds out her arms to me and I give her a quick hug.

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