Page 15 of Sleeping With the Vampire

“Wait!” she said. When she caught up with me, she said, “Not all vampires are bad. I know there are many who have sworn off killing people, drinking blood from the blood banks.”

I nodded. “Lucca is one of those.”

Alsha stared at me. “King Lucca? Of D’Valleira?”

“You know him?”

“I have heard of his family, I mean, it is one of the big vampire families. You don’t just date and dump someone like that.”

I shrugged, uncomfortable.

“Isn’t he like… a thousand years old?” she asked.

“He doesn’t look that old,” I said. Alsha stared at me and then burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but join in.

“So, he’s a good-looking old vampire then?”

“Very!”

But I didn’t want to think about that.

I pulled my shirt down over my shoulder. “He did give me that, though.”

I showed her my bite mark, which was still red.

“Do you think he’s marked me now?”

She grinned at me, naughtily. “Diran once bit me when we were having sex, he broke my finger by accident!”

“No way!”

She shook her head and laughed. “I think it means there is a connection between you now. Once he has tasted your bloodand your blood has met his, there is a link, like a bond, a sensitivity.”

“But how do you feel?” Alsha asked. “Are you drawn to him, do you want to be with him?”

“No,” I said slowly. “But I don’t fear him. I don’t think he’d hurt me. No, I’m sure he wouldn’t.”

She nodded.

“Give yourself time, I think. This is a lot to process. Bo’s daughter, with a vampire!”

She was right. It was unfathomable.

Chapter 6

Lucca

I rest for a few hours, then go down to the outer ward. I like to be around the castle at this time of day. There is a changing of the servants, the routines switching from day to night. There are not only our kind here, but an army of men as well, who have been bound to me by right of blood. I need them to drive the trucks out with the blood product for our distribution.

With an organization like this, we cannot afford to be running at night only. It has to be a twenty-four seven arrangement, completely modern and part of the times. My tolerance for light is high and if there is sufficient cloud cover on overcast days, I can even be outside.

I like to watch them loading the trucks, checking the routes and signing in the drivers. Usually, it is a well-oiled operation running smoothly.

But not today.

I see men standing around, muttering to themselves, shaking their heads. There is shouting and swearing and by five o’clock some of the crates and shipments still haven’t been loaded. I look for my general, a man called Marlon, who has been in charge of the operations for the past twenty years.

“General!”

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