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“No. I meant, that’s why you’re here,” the other vamp said, dark eyes narrowed in suspicion.
That wasn’t unusual. He could be as charming as any of his kind, but unlike with Mircea, it wasn’t his job. His name was Kit Marlowe and he’d long ago transitioned from spying for Her Majesty, queen of England, to doing the same for another queen, this one in charge of the dreaded North American Vampire Senate.
Well, dreaded to most people, including most U.S. vamps because it served as their less-than-benevolent government. But for me, it didn’t seem quite so scary anymore, maybe because I was dating one of the senators. The one who was currently looking with amused tolerance at Kit.
“What gave you that idea?”
“Don’t be coy. I’ve seen you put less effort into charming countesses—”
“Who normally require little effort,” Mircea murmured, sipping brandy.
“—than into that child. ‘Why, isn’t that a pretty painting, Cassie? However did you do it?’” Marlowe mimicked.
“The colors were quite nice,” Mircea protested, lips quirking.
Kit didn’t look so amused.
“What is your interest?” he asked bluntly.
“She’s a charming child.”
“She’s a seer.” Marlowe’s eyes narrowed. “The real thing, by all accounts, but that is hardly enough to warrant camping out in the wilderness—”
“It is less than an hour to Philadelphia.”
“The wilderness,” Marlowe insisted, looking around disparagingly. “And in any case, if you wanted to see the blasted vamp, why not order him to your court? Why come here at all, much less for almost a year?”
“Ah. Is that what has your lady ordering you to check up on me?” Mircea asked, settling back into a dark red leather armchair. He still looked amused, although whether he actually was or not was anyone’s guess.
His companion remained standing, and tensed up slightly. “I needed to ask you about a number of—”
“Now who’s being coy?”
Marlowe dropped it. “Well, if she is curious, who can blame her? No one does this.”
“Many masters visit their servants.”
“Servants who live in Paris; servants who live in Rome. Not servants who live in the backwoods of Pennsylvania in a dump!” Marlowe gestured around, the small gold earring he wore in one ear flashing in a lightning burst. “What do you expect me to tell her?”
“That I am attending to family matters that do not concern her.”
“Oh yes. Yes, that will go over well,” Marlowe said sarcastically.
“It should. It’s the truth.”
“And you’re not going to offer any further explanation, any more details,” Marlowe said, prowling nearer to the fireplace.
“I don’t see why she would expect them,” Mircea commented as I started struggling again. “I am not a newborn who must be tended, and this has nothing to do with her.”
“Nothing?” Marlowe spun, just before he reached me. And just before he would have gotten close enough for a good look over the screen.
I swallowed hard.
I was twenty-four.
And I was already too old for this.
“That is what I said.”
