Page 5 of Your Coffin or Mine
I guess that’s my cue to follow him?
Yikes.
Chapter 2
VLAD
The female looksup at the ceiling, her mouth open in shock. “Oh my god, it looks just like something out ofThe Addam’s Family.”
Out of the what?I really will murder him this time. This is all that pompous, pretentious prick’s fault.
What the fuck is she doing here?
“Doyle!” I shout again, willing him to fix this problem he’s made.
Suddenly, she tips her head back and squeals. I groan as the sound ricochets in my brain and vaguely wonder if women’s voices are several octaves higher than I recall... Or is she just an abrasivething?
“Oh! It’s so beautiful,” she gushes, obviously enamored with the place.
At least she has good taste.
“Oh my gosh, no one said there were actors here. Holy crap, you’re exactly what I would picture Dracula looking like! You have the whole Gomez Addams vibe down for sure.”
My nose wrinkles as I follow her gaze to where Doyle is standing at the top of the grand staircase, and I frown whenmy idiot friend looks just as surprised as I am at her presence. Except the asshole isstilllaughing.
“Dracula?” Doyle snorts with amusement, gesturing to himself.
My eyes flare wide.How dare she!Humans with their ridiculous pandering of all things supernatural, and she dares to call him Dracula.Him? She is delusional, obviously, and must leave immediately.
“Seriously, though. You are killing it, Mr. Vampire,” she says up at him as he descends the stairs.
I clear my throat to get her attention. “Madam.”
She turns, her long blonde hair waving around her pale face, as if she just now remembered my presence.
“Oh, I am so sorry. Here,” she says, pushing her carry-on luggage into my arms before scampering toward an old suit of armor I acquired centuries ago from within the walls of a long-forgotten empire. “This is freaking amazing!”
A bright light flashes from her camera, and I groan as my vision is bleached of color.Women are the bane of male existence.
Why am I holding this?I growl in disgust, dropping the bag to the polished, black-and-white checkered marble floor with a plunk. “Doyle, this is intolerable. This woman has got to?—”
She waves at Doyle, and I scowl even harder.
“Hi, sorry. I have a reservation,” she repeats like a nitwit.
“But of course,” he says just as the words “absolutely not” exit my mouth.
I stand annoyed and unamused as he takes her by the arm, brushing past me whilst he promises her hot chocolate and offers her “the best room in the whole castle.” The absurd male turns into an overzealous buffoon when a woman is present. The flea-bitten jackass.
Outrage pours off me in waves and I have half a mind to throw the bag at my feet into the moat, if only to watchDracularetrieve it and deal with the consequences. I hope the Loch Ness monster fucking eats them.
An hour later and he’s attempting to bring me to task for not carrying her bag to her room. In my own study.This is not happening.
“What do I look like, Doyle, a fucking servant?”
“Honestly, no. You look like you got into a fight with a dehydrator and it won, you bag of bones.”
“Why is she here?” I grip the armrests of my chair, more annoyed than I have been in decades.
