Page 16 of Toadstools and Vampire Kisses

Grimacing despite my personal oath to not show any distaste with the chore, I make as quick of a task of it as I can. Naturally, this means that I swipe at my boot and nearly growl at how ineffectual it is. A glob has been wiped clean, but it leaves a thick, slimy streak behind. It takes several swipes, shaking out the rag between each one, to remove the innards from the leather, and even then it bears a distinguished gloss to it that I can only hope boot polish will help.

I pick the pumpkin up as I straighten, cutting it free from the vine with a twist of my claws on its stem. The hole in its top is significant, but the rest of it still appears to be intact and this gives me an idea. Fran backs up a step to give me space to stand and gives the gourd a curious glance.

“Are you planning on taking it back as a memento?” she teases, and I shake my head with a grin.

“Not at all, but given that it was a sizable pumpkin and quite handsome before I put my foot through it, I think it deserves a more noble end in attendance at the party than out here rotting in the field.”

Her smile widens, and she takes my free arm and draws close to keep the parasol above us. “That’s a wonderful idea!”

The yawning thing that had awakened within me purrs with delight and need as her hold on my arm presses her close to my side. Beast pauses on the path just ahead of us, his ears pricked at me, and I swallow back this overwhelming sensation.

I am a dragori, not a monster.

Resolutely, I ignore the awakened, unfamiliar beast now sharing my skin and walk forward, the large pumpkin carefully balanced on my shoulder.

At Fran’s direction, we walk over to the work tables lined up at the edge of the patch with several large bowls. We choose a spot at the end of one to set the first pumpkin down before heading off into the patch once again. Fran and I select a half-dozen between us and set to work side by side. Beast entertains himself chasing bugs in the grass nearby until several children drop down to roll around in the grass with him, and I have to admit that this far is more pleasant than the moody halls filled with the carnal appetites and indulgences of unmated vampires within the coven. To have a sense of family again after such a long time is… wonderful.

Pushing thoughts of the past aside, I select the large pumpkin with the caved-in hole from my boot and set it in front of me. Watching Fran, I mimic her movements in taking off the top but shape it in a way to flow into the hole that I reshape to extend on either side until the entire top of the pumpkin resembles an open mouth with sharp teeth framing it. It is what is inside, however, that makes my lips pinch in distaste. Apparently, my boot had not removed even a small portion of its innards. Truthfully, I had hoped that after the mess it would have been nearly clean, but it seems I am not so fortunate. The thick, slimy mess of the pumpkin’s pulp and seeds mingling with the wet, musky-rich smell of the fruit makes my stomach twist.

“Fran, how do we…” I begin, turning toward the female at my side, and then recoil when I see her plunge her bare forearm into the gourd and slop around a bit before pulling an overflowing handful of the muck from inside it.

This mess she overturns into the bowl in front of us with a splat. She looks up at me in that moment, her eyebrows raised, and I swallow back my distaste and smile gamely at her.

“Are you okay, Reynard?”

“Never better. Witnessing your technique was all that I needed,” I assure her as I turn back to my pumpkin.

Undoing my cufflinks, I roll up my sleeves, baring my arm to the elbows. The tail tip of the dragon tattooed on my bicep is barely visible, but I see her give it a curious glance. I am glad she doesn’t inquire about it. It would be an uncomfortable conversation with a dragon nearly on the verge of splitting his human guise as he fumes several feet away, staring suspiciously at me.

I want to snort with laughter since I am not the vampire here that he should be concerned with, but I manage to restrain myself. Instead, I apply myself to the unpleasant task of scooping out cold, slimy goop and enjoying it only because Fran is humming beside me the entire time. With the advantage of my larger hands and claws, my pumpkin is cleaned in no time—though I know I will be spending at least twenty minutes tidying my claws after all of this. I continue shaping the outer skin of my gourd, as well as cutting out eyes until the pumpkin looks like the open maw of a ferocious monster filled with jagged teeth. Numerous areas are thinned so that they will allow some of the light to shine through, as Fran explained the concept to me. It is a strange medium but oddly amusing. Even pulling the guts out was fun in retrospect.

At my side, Fran leans in and makes a sound of admiration. “Reynard, that’s amazing! It looks so creepy!”

My heart warms with her praise, and I decide that this pumpkin carving business is even more satisfying sharing it all with Fran. I am still smiling when I take up the next pumpkin, and the next. I cannot recall a more joyous passing. I am even able to ignore the questioning looks my cousin keeps throwing me. Let him chase his mission as he likes. This is all that matters to me at this moment, and for the first time since a great many years before my sleep, I feel like I am living again.

ChapterEleven

FRAN

Ilaugh as I drag Reynard up the stairs behind me and give him a small shove toward his room. “Okay, go get cleaned up and then get right back to my room. I know I have just the thing if the trunks are still where I think they are, so hurry up!”

Though he’s as immovable as a boulder, not even shifting his weight in response to my little push, he smiles with amusement as he looks down at me. We are close enough that the wet pumpkin goop slicking his shirt to his skin are extremely distracting. His gaze follows the direction of mine to a long smear cutting down the center of his abs and belly. He possesses the lithe build of a dancer, and that trail emphasizes it clearer than ever. I practically choke on my own tongue and take a step back, unable to peel my eyes from the distracting tightening of the muscles there beneath my inspection.

“You are staring, Fran,” he murmurs. “Are you having second thoughts?”

I quickly shake my head. I’m being ridiculous. He’s a vampire and as off limits as it gets for my personal sanity. I feign a cheerful smile. “Of course not. Now go get cleaned up.”

He gives me a curious look but inclines his head in agreement before turning away. He may not be suave, but his every movement has an ingrained elegance that makes me want to simply watch him as he heads down the hall. I huff and force myself to walk in the opposite direction rather than make moon eyes at his backside.

Taking a fortifying breath, I hurry down the hall to my room with Beast racing excitedly ahead of me, his little stub tail wagging. I don’t know why I am so flustered by Reynard when he isn’t even flirting with me. But here I am, my cheeks burning with a rising blush the longer I think about having him alone in my room… even for something as innocent as helping him with his costume.

“Get it together, Fran. He needs help with a costume—something a ten-year-old could probably do. He isn’t looking for you to be his date. Which is good, because you left the city to get away from vampires.”

That sounds like a lie even to my own ears. Every word of it is true, but the fact that I am attracted to him is my fault. I only hope he’s as oblivious to my attraction as he appears to be. It is embarrassing enough that I am practically falling all over myself to be useful just to enjoy the pleasure of his company further, but at least he doesn’t seem to notice. It would be so much more mortifying if he knew and were manipulating me.

I freeze, my handle on the doorknob to my room, a quiver of tension working its way up my spine. Can I really so easily believe that he isn’t doing that? He’s a vampire. Who knows how many centuries he’s had to perfect his acting? I try to imagine him cunningly playing me with his every embarrassed flush, his ramrod straight posture… The playfulness that I’ve caught in his eyes has been more genuine than I’ve typically experienced while dating.

As I turn the knob and let myself inside, I shake my head.

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