Page 12 of Bewitched By a Vampire

The pretty brunette ran her finger around the rim of his glass as she pressed closer, angling her head up so he got a good view of her cleavage in her black corseted dress. Her grey eyes glittered at him as her red lips tilted into a semblance of a smile.

“Are you not enjoying the humans?” She dipped her finger into the blood, withdrew it and brought it to her lips.

Lips she wrapped around it as she gazed up at him.

He had known Elspeth for centuries and wasn’t surprised she had convinced her older brother, Laurent, to bring her with him. Laurent had often joked over the years that Elspeth was saving her heart for Night. Night didn’t think it was something to joke about. At every opportunity, Elspeth tried to seduce him.

Only she didn’t really want to claim him.

She wanted to claim his title.

“Does the host ever really get to enjoy their own party?” Night set the glass of blood down on a small side table, leaning away from her for a moment.

Apparently giving her the perfect excuse to run her hands over his arm and help him straighten up again. He frowned and resisted the desire to sigh, turned to her and plastered on a smile.

Playing the good host.

“Shall we sit awhile?” She gestured to the black velvet couch as someone stood and left it vacant.

As little as he enjoyed the idea of sitting pressed close to Elspeth on the small two-seater sofa, he didn’t want to be rude to her. Mostly because he would never hear the end of it from Laurent. The last time Night had flatly turned her down and told her to leave him alone, Laurent had plagued him for close to a year, constantly sending him messages about how upset his sister was and that he needed to apologise to her.

Night was starting to get the idea that Elspeth wasn’t the only one who wanted him to marry her.

He eased onto the seat, as far from her as he could get, and she chose to sit right beside him, her thigh pressed against his. He was tempted to point out that there was plenty of room for her to sit further away, but decided against it. This party was supposed to be a distraction, a way of keeping his mind off Lilian, and what better distraction was there than a beautiful female?

When he rested his arm along the back of the couch, almost placing it around her shoulders, Elspeth got a look in her eyes that made him want to run for the hills. Or Hell. Maybe Hell. She had told him many times that she would never set foot in such a dangerous, wretched place. He would be safe there.

“Lord Van der Garde,” she murmured, her voice going low, and the desire that always shone in her eyes whenever she was near him deepened.

He gestured to one of the owned humans, beckoning them. The male hurried to him and dipped low, presenting the tray of goblets to him. Night took two and handed one to Elspeth.

An attempt to get her to stop gazing at his throat.

The tips of her fangs showed between her red lips as she smiled and took the glass, brushing her fingers over his.

Gods, maybe this was a bad idea.

Indulging Elspeth would probably lead to her thinking they were engaged or something just as ridiculous, and then Laurent would be on his case for a decade or more.

So he summoned another of the female vampires, a petite raven-haired one with large green eyes who had been watching him all night. He wasn’t familiar with her and had been curious about her from the moment he had seen her, wondering whether she was one of Laurent’s friends or someone Renard had brought with him.

The pretty little thing was quick to hurry towards him, almost tripping over her long crimson dress in an effort to reach him in less than a second, as if it was a criminal offence to keep him waiting. She had to be young and relatively new to vampire society. Many aristocrat families kept their daughters away from society until they had matured and then they would host a grand ball for their coming out.

They were antiquated like that.

Night shunned thoughts of his own dear sister’s ball, the pain of losing her still too raw after close to two centuries, and focused on the newcomer instead.

Elspeth hissed low as the delicate creature reached him.

“Come. Sit.” Night stood and offered his seat to her and she blinked at him.

Elspeth looked ready to commit bloody murder.

He took hold of the black-haired female’s arm with his free hand and guided her onto the seat, and then turned and pulled one of the armchairs close to them. He settled himself on it and surveyed the two females. They were a pretty picture, one all bright-eyed innocence and excitement, and the other all darkness and determination.

The perfect distraction.

“I’m not sure I know you, but you are a pretty petite thing,” Night started and ignored the way Elspeth scowled at him now, a corona of crimson around her grey irises. “Are you a friend of Renard’s?”

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