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I am, but you don’t need to worry about me. I’ve got my sights set on a Harley-riding mastyr with no sleeves. Oh, and he’s got a swagger like he wouldn’t turn me away if I suggested I wanted to open a vein for him.
She sounded pissed, something he would have addressed then and there, but damn if the woman didn’t shut her pathway down. No matter how hard he tried to reach her again, he couldn’t.
It would seem the very proper Queen of Ferrenden Peace was on the hunt and about to land a vampire.
He recalled visiting a certain bar in the east out at Millerell in the Dauphaires and that a good-looking mastyr had come over to her. What was the name of that bar?
The Wild Boar.
If she was there, she wasn’t too far away, but could he get to her before she did anything foolish?
~ ~ ~
Rosamunde felt nothing but exhilarated as she stood in the doorway of the bar. The place was jumping. A three-piece band banged away in the corner, playing something that sounded like a bluesy country song. They weren’t the best, but they were loud and loud was what she wanted right now.
And nothing complicated. Just the right man with the appropriate dental hardware, and maybe a private corner, and she’d be all set.
She’d always liked this place. Something very female in her responded to the look of the men. They were tough, a bunch of real fighters. When she was with Stone, she’d caught a few sidelong glances because no one was going to mess with the ruling Mastyr of Tannisford. But right now there was nothing but open gawking and glances that traveled up and down her body.
Truth? She loved it.
She felt like a desirable woman and it felt good.
Two shifters came up to her. “Buy you a drink?”
“I’d love it.” She wasn’t holding back, not tonight, maybe never again. She was done being formal and demure. Stone might not want her, he probably would never forgive her, but getting a pair of fangs into her was exactly what she needed.
The shifter was tall with shoulders that could have supported a boat. He had blond hair, blue eyes and called out over his shoulder, “Rachel, a beer for my friend, here. What’s your name, Sweetheart?”
“Rosamunde.”
“Just like the queen.”
“Yup. Just like her.” She even smiled
Rachel shouted back. “What’s your pleasure, Hon?”
“Anything amber. And thanks.”
“You got it. Pull up a stool and don’t let any of these cretins give you a hard time.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Hell, if she got in trouble, maybe she’d just call on the elf-lord power and put any troublesome man in stasis.
With her two swains flanking her, Rosamunde made her way toward the horseshoe bar, packed two-deep. A number of the men turned to stare at her. But when she was within a few feet, a stool moved as though magically reaching for her. A heavy boot was attached, one looped with three chains around the back.
Her gaze followed that boot and a leg encased in tight
leather, until she was looking at the vampire she was after.
Rez.
He’d pushed the empty stool out for her and she could feel his chronic blood hunger like a fire on her skin.
She thanked the shifters for the warm welcome to the Wild Boar, then made a beeline for the tall metal stool.
Both of them complained as Rosamunde climbed up and seated her ass with a firm wiggle then grabbed the beer. She could smell the vampire next to her. And his salty, nutty scent mixed with a very fine aftershave sent shivers chasing down both shoulders.
Once more, her heart pounded.
