Page 7 of Bad Luck Vampire

Great, she thought on an inner sigh, alone in a sea of strangers who were all family or friends of the bride and groom that she didn’t know. What on earth had she been thinking when she’d agreed to be his date tonight?

“It’ll be fine,” Tybo said soothingly as if he could tell she was now regretting agreeing to come. “They’re Valerian’s aunt and uncle. You’ll like them.”

“I’m sure I will,” she said, not sure at all. But positive the poor older couple had probably felt obligated to agree to look out for her and resented being burdened with her.

“They’ll love you,” Tybo said encouragingly, apparently having read her worries on her face.

Sophie stifled the scowl that wanted to claim her lips and instead smoothed out her expression. But she was irritated that he had read her so easily. People usually couldn’t. She had learned young how to suppress her emotions and give nothing away by word or expression. It was safer that way. Keep things light, stifle all emotion, and give nothing away to anyone. That was her motto and how she usually rolled, but for some reason, Tybo seemed to have no problem figuring out what she was thinking and feeling. It was kind of annoying.

“Trust me,” Tybo added. “You and Marguerite will get along like a house on fire, and the minute the ceremony is over I’ll collect you for the meal.”

“’Kay,” she said mildly, keeping her expression bland as she reassured herself that it wouldn’t be for that long anyway. Wedding ceremonies were short, weren’t they? It was just the “Do you take this woman?” and “Do you take this man?” Then the “Kiss the bride” and done, right? That’s how it was on TV anyway.

“Oh, there’s Marguerite.”

Sophie blinked her thoughts aside and glanced around to see that they were approaching the tent where the ceremony was obviously to take place. The news that the groom had arrived must have spread, because everyone was now gravitating to this tent to claim their seats. Including the aunt and uncle Tybo had mentioned. The nice older aunt and uncle, she’d thought. Now she stumbled in surprise as she took in the couple he was pointing out.

“Whoa,” Tybo said, catching her arm to help her keep her feet. “All right?” he asked once she’d steadied.

“Yeah. Thanks,” she said. “But that can’t be Valerian’s real aunt and uncle, right? It’s just a joke nickname or something, isn’t it?”

“No. They’re his real aunt and uncle,” he assured her, then tilted his head. “Why?”

“They don’t look old enough,” she said simply.

Tybo chuckled at the comment and just said, “Come meet them. You’ll love them.”

When he urged her forward again, Sophie didn’t fight him, but shifted her gaze back to the couple to examine them more closely.

Valerian’s aunt didn’t look more than twenty-five or so. She was also gorgeous with a killer figure, auburn hair, large eyes, and full lips. The man next to her, presumably the uncle, was nothing to sneeze at either. Also in his mid to late twenties, the man had dark hair, swarthy good looks, and was sexy as hell. He looked nothing like the fair-haired Valerian other than seeming to be around the same age, which was unusual for an uncle, Sophie thought as Tybo drew her to a halt in front of the aunt and uncle he planned to palm her off on for the ceremony.

“Marguerite, you look lovely as always,” he greeted, releasing Sophie to give the woman a quick hug and shake the hand of the man with her. Stepping back then, he took Sophie’s arm again to draw her forward as he added, “This is my beautiful date, Sophie Ferguson. Sophie, this is Marguerite Argeneau-Notte, and her husband, Julius Notte.”

“Hi.” Sophie offered her hand in greeting, holding it out to the aunt first. Much to her amazement, rather than take, shake, and release it as she’d expected, Marguerite Argeneau-Notte grasped her hand in both of her own and held on.

Sophie wanted to arch an eyebrow and look down at their hands meaningfully to get her to release her, but found her attention caught by the woman’s eyes before she could. They were a beautiful silver blue. The color was eye-catching on its own, but the fact that the silver appeared to be shifting and growing to overwhelm the blue as the woman tried to drill a hole in Sophie’s forehead with her stare was what really got her attention. It was bizarre and discomfiting, both of which just made her want to snap at the woman to “take a picture or something already, lady.” But the words died along with the feeling when Marguerite suddenly broke contact and turned to Tybo.

“She’s lovely, Tybo... and special,” the woman announced solemnly.

While Sophie blinked in surprise at the comment, Tybo merely grinned and said, “I couldn’t agree with you more,” to the woman, before turning to Sophie to add, “I told you Marguerite would love you.”

She merely smiled dubiously in response. They’d just met, for heaven’s sake. Calling her special at this point seemed ridiculous to her. But before she could comment, Marguerite announced, “I know a certain male who will love her even more.”

Sophie felt her eyebrows rise at the cryptic words, but she wasn’t the only one surprised by the comment.

“What?” Tybo asked with dismay.

“I believe she will suit someone here perfectly,” Marguerite added.

Sophie was just bewildered by this. She had no idea who or what the woman was talking about. She would suit someone here perfectly? What did that even mean? She was Tybo’s date, and much to her relief he pointed that out to Marguerite, although his voice was more complaining than outraged when he said, “But she’s my date.”

“She may be your date, Tybo, but I believe Alasdair needs to meet her,” Marguerite responded, her tone solemn.

Sophie was now staring at the woman with complete and utter disbelief. Tybo, however, just looked resigned as he asked, “Really?”

Marguerite nodded.

“But I like her,” Tybo said unhappily, and Sophie stared at him with disbelief. It sounded to her like he was on the edge of caving in to Marguerite’s suggestion that she belonged with someone else. What the hell was going on here?

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