Page 20 of Bad Luck Vampire

“You should ha’e cut his dobber off,” Inan opined with disgust. “I can’y stand men like that. Tryin’ to take what isna on offer.”

Alasdair grunted his agreement, his gaze moving to the mouth of the tent where he’d last seen Sophie. He couldn’t imagine how an attack like that might have affected her had Carl succeeded, and was grateful Tybo and Valerian had been there to intervene.

“And if we hadn’t, she wouldn’t be here now for you to meet,” Valerian pointed out with a faint smile, obviously having read his thoughts. Resting one hand on Alasdair’s shoulder, he squeezed slightly and said, “Tybo told me Marguerite says she’s your life mate. Congratulations, cousin.”

Alasdair let his breath out on a slight huff. “Do not congratulate me yet, I still have to win her.”

“You will. I have faith in you,” Valerian said with a grin.

“And so ye should, lad,” Connor said. “Especially with us here to help him.”

The other uncles all nodded and grunted agreement, then clanked their glasses of ale together before gulping down their beverages.

Alasdair groaned under his breath. The very last thing he needed was these old barbarians to help him woo Sophie.

“I suppose you’ll want more of that, Uncles,” Valerian said with amusement as they each set their empty glasses back on the table with solid thuds. “Although I don’t know why you drink ale when the alcohol doesn’t affect you.”

“Because we like the taste, boyo,” Inan said dryly.

“’Sides we can’y drink blood with mortals about,” Connor added grimly, his gaze sliding around the guests in the room.

Alasdair glanced around as well. There were really only a dozen mortals as guests at the wedding. Natalie’s employees and their dates, as well as a few locals who were friends or friends of the family. But it still meant they had to be careful.

“That reminds me,” Valerian said now. “There’s blood in the refrigerator in Natalie’s office if anyone needs a top-up. Just make sure you close the door so none of the mortal guests walk in and see something they shouldn’t.”

He waited for everyone to nod acknowledgment and then started to turn away, but paused, hesitated, and then swung back to suggest, “And if you want to avoid questions, you should probably take plates of food when they’re offered and try to eat at least some of it to avoid arousing suspicion too.” Grimacing, he admitted, “That’s actually why I stopped here on the way to the head table. Natalie wanted me to remind anyone sitting close to mortals to at least pretend to eat.”

He raised his head then to glance around the tent, and smiled when he spotted his bride at another table with mixed mortal and immortal guests. “She thought of it while the photographer was taking pictures and spoke to Tybo and me, so we decided to stop and have a word where we could on the way back to the table.”

“A word with the immortals while mortals are sitting right there?” Colle asked dubiously.

“Well, she won’t say anything out loud that might sound off to mortals. But the immortals can read it from her mind while she’s at the table,” he pointed out. “I told her to say, ‘If you could read my mind, you’d know how good the food is’ and then think that they should at least pretend to eat in front of the mortal guests.” Valerian shrugged. “Fortunately, I didn’t have to bother with that since Sophie isn’t here. Where is she, by the way?”

“Ladies’ room with Marguerite,” Alasdair muttered.

“Ah.” Valerian nodded. “Well, that made telling you all to pretend to eat easier. Just push the food around on your plates and try to distract her so she doesn’t notice you aren’t gulping down food like the big men you are should do.”

“Don’y fash yerself, lad,” Connor said. “We’ll eat.”

“We eat at least once a week still and this week put it off for the weddin’ feast,” Inan explained, and when Valerian looked startled at this news, he asked, “Did ye really think a diet o’ blood would be enough to keep up these braw bodies?”

Alasdair rolled his eyes when his uncle stood up and flexed to show off his muscular arms and chest. His other three uncles just grinned at the display. They were all beefy hulks, the cloth of their shirts straining under the stress of their muscles at chest, forearms, and biceps.

“Yeah, yeah,” Colle said with exasperation. “Sit yourself down, Uncle. The mortal lasses are suitably impressed and gawking now.”

Grinning, Inan retook his seat, and Connor said, “The point is, we always eat at least once a week to help keep up our muscles.”

“Aye,” Inan agreed. “We may no’ enjoy feastin’ anymore, but we do it anyway so we don’y lose strength. Hunters need to be strong.”

The uncles all nodded, their gazes sliding scathingly over Alasdair, Colle, and Valerian as if to suggest they were not up to snuff despite the fact that Alasdair and Colle were at least as big as them if not bigger.

“Right,” Valerian said with a laugh, obviously unconcerned by the attempted insult. “Well, I’m just glad I can reassure Natalie that you won’t be sitting here not eating or doing anything else unusual, so . . .” Turning on his heel he headed away, calling out, “Enjoy dinner.”

“Lud,” Connor said idly as they watched the groom walk to the head table.

“Hmm?” Ludan asked, glancing his way.

“I don’y think our nephews were impressed with our point about strength helping in the hunt.”

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