Page 33 of Bad Luck Vampire

“Except for the Tomlinsons,” he said solemnly.

“Yes, except for them,” she agreed, and then tilted her head and smiled at him faintly. “And you, of course. So far you seem nice enough. As did Marguerite and Julius, and Tybo, of course.”

“Not my uncles?” Alasdair teased.

Sophie grinned. “Your uncles are definitely interesting. I haven’t decided yet if they’re nice or not, though they seemed nice enough last night.”

“They were on their best behavior,” Alasdair assured her in dry tones.

Sophie smiled faintly at the comment and responded lightly, “Probably afraid you or Colle would take them to task if they weren’t.”

“Not us. Julius.”

“Seriously?” she asked with open disbelief. “Marguerite’s husband?”

Alasdair nodded.

“But he was so quiet and... well, sweet,” she protested. “Especially compared to your other uncles at the table last night.”

Alasdair chuckled at the description. Julius seemed quiet and gentle, but he was more lion than pussy cat when the need arose. But all he said was, “Julius is older than Ludan and the others. He probably would have cuffed every one of them if they’d got out of line. It’s undoubtedly why they were put at our table with Julius. Valerian knew he’d keep them in check.”

“Huh,” Sophie muttered, and shook her head. “Never would have guessed it. I didn’t find him the least scary or intimidating.”

Alasdair grinned at her comment. Few would find Julius scary or intimidating . . . until they pissed him off.

“So, did you get today off because of the wedding?” Sophie asked, changing the subject.

Alasdair shook his head and picked up his chicken again before answering, “I worked last night after the wedding.”

“Seriously?” she asked, looking shocked.

Alasdair nodded. “Myself, Colle, and several other Enforcers were on the first plane back to Toronto at midnight to take up our shifts.”

“So that’s where you disappeared to,” she murmured.

Alasdair nodded and tried not to grin at the knowledge that she’d noticed his absence.

“Hmm,” Sophie said now. “So, you work... What? One a.m. till nine a.m.?” she guessed.

“Midnight to eight,” he corrected. “The guys on the earlier shift knew we might be a little late because of the wedding and offered to work our shift until we could take over.”

“Oh, that was nice of them,” she said with a smile.

Alasdair merely nodded. It had been nice, he acknowledged, and then noted that Sophie was frowning at him now and asked, “What?”

“So, you haven’t been to bed yet?” she asked. “I mean it was noon when you got to my office and if you got off at eight a.m.... You also took the time to order those flowers. You must sleep in the evenings before work,” she guessed, and then frowned with dissatisfaction at her own deduction and added, “Although you were at the wedding in the evening yesterday.”

“I normally sleep through the day,” he said, telling her what she was trying to figure out.

“But not today obviously,” she said with apparent concern. “You must be exhausted.”

“I caught a nap after work,” he assured her. “And I’ll probably lie down again after our lunch for a couple hours. Probably,” he added grimly because he had a bone to pick with his uncles first. They’d gone to bed as he’d left. Maybe he should wake them up by tossing a pail of cold water over each of them as they’d done to him. Then he could point out that there hadn’t been anything about a lunch on the card with the flowers. Once he had them wide-awake and soaking wet, he could lie down in his own probably still damp bed for a bit. With the door locked this time.

Not for long, though, Alasdair recalled. He was supposed to invite Sophie out for dinner to get their second date done and get to the third where they could have sex. Which seemed kind of cold now that he was thinking about it. After all, they were having a lovely meal without any crazy life mate passion cropping up to get in the way. Well, other than the brief spark of electricity between them when their hands had collided over the spring rolls. Still, he could last another day before the next date so long as he made sure there was no more contact and—

Alasdair’s thoughts died as he glanced at Sophie to see that she was cleaning chicken grease from her fingers by popping them into her mouth one after the other and then pulling each digit out with a soft sucking sound, before turning her attention to the next. He watched the activity with fascination, noting the way her eyelids drooped in concentration and her lips puckered around each finger in a soft O as her finger glided in and then out.

“Damn,” he breathed as his cock hardened and almost leapt in his pants, eager to offer itself up for such a cleaning.

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