Single White Vampire (16 page)

“I'm going to have my astrological chart done,” Jodi announced. “Then I'm going to have an astrology reading, too. And a psychic one.” The writer's green eyes were shining. She was obviously excited.

Kate had never been to a psychic in her life, and she didn't have a clue where to start. One glance at Lucern showed him looking bored, so Kate nodded at Jodi and smiled. “Lead on, MacDuff.”

 

“You're a very young soul, light and bursting with love and enthusiasm to experience all the world has to offer.”

Lucern remained silent as the supposed psychic batted her eyelashes at him, but Kate snorted with derision behind him. The psychic stopped fluttering over his hand long enough to glare at her, then went on, “You have lived many, many lives.”

Kate snorted again. “When has he had time?”

“I beg your pardon?” The psychic sneered up at her.

“I thought he was a young soul,” Kate pointed out. “How can he be a young soul who has lived many lives?” She touched Lucern's arm. “Come on. This is a waste of money.”

Lucern was on his feet at once, ushering her and Jodi away under the psychic's baleful gaze. He was steering them toward the exit when Jodi stopped, forcing Kate and Luc to stop as well.

“No, wait. I want a reading from her.” The author pointed toward a table where a white-haired lady sat alone, without a line like at the other tables. Kate supposed it was the lack of a flashy display that had made her less popular. The rest of the psychics wore bright clothes and had dramatic signs and flashy tablecloths; this woman hadn't bothered with a tablecloth, and wore a beige outfit guaranteed to fade in a crowd, and a plain sign.

“Her?” Kate asked doubtfully. The woman didn't look very successful, if she did look serene.

“Real talent doesn't bother with flash,” Jodi said. They all walked over.

Kate and Lucern watched solemnly as the woman took Jodi's hand. She said Jodi was a writer—which Kate didn't think was hard to work out, since this was a writing conference. It was a fifty-fifty chance that Jodi
was either a writer or a reader. The woman next said she was quite successful at it, which wasn't that big of a revelation either. She might have recognized Jodi's picture from the back of her books.

The next statement surprised Kate. The reader said Jodi was still suffering from a painful loss she had endured some time ago, the loss of her soul mate. Kate felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. It wasn't common knowledge, but Jodi's husband had died four years earlier, a year before she'd been published. Kate also knew Jodi still wept for him. She claimed he had been her one true love.

The psychic rubbed Jodi's hand soothingly and told her that her love was there with them now, and that he was always nearby. But she also said he wanted Jodi to continue living. Someone would come into her life soon, and while he wouldn't be a soul mate as her first love had been, he would be Jodi's dear friend, lover and companion for the rest of her days—and the psychic said Jodi's first love wished for it to be so.

Jodi's eyes glazed with tears. She stood and turned to Kate and Lucern. Kate was trying to think of something to say to lift the mood, when Lucern suddenly commented, “So, looks like you'll get laid before you die after all.”

Kate turned a horrified gaze on him. She had never heard the man speak so crudely. She'd never even heard him use such modern terms. She turned to Jodi in shock, but the author just burst out in peals of tinkling laughter.

“Yes, it does. Isn't that nice?” Jodi sighed and touched Luc's arm. Then she explained to Kate, “The
women were talking about sex, of course, when it got slow back in the hospitality suite. Beth was bemoaning the fact that her characters had better sex than she did, and I snorted and said that at least she was getting some, I doubted I ever would again before I died. But now it sounds as though I shall!”

She smiled at Lucern, then urged him toward the chair. “Your turn, my friend. I want to hear what she has to say about
you
.”

Kate watched the older woman badger Luc into sitting. For a moment, she felt a touch of discomfort. It was obvious that the pair had developed something of a friendship this morning, and Kate was ashamed to realize that what she felt was jealousy. Shrugging off the petty feelings, she turned her attention to the psychic, who had claimed Lucern's hand and was now running her fingers lightly over it. Her eyes were closed in concentration.

“You're very old,” the woman said in hushed tones. She blinked her eyes open to look at his handsome young face, frowned in confusion, then closed them again. “It's your soul that must be old,” she corrected. “Very old. You have had many loves.”

Kate felt something tighten in her chest before the woman corrected herself again: “No, not loves. Lovers. You have had many. Many, many,” she added, sounding surprised again. Then she blinked her eyes open to ask with some vexation, “When have you had time to sleep?”

Kate's lips twitched. She supposed Lucern
had
been with many women. He was a healthy male of over six hundred years. Even if he'd only had one lover per year,
it meant six hundred. If he'd had more than three a year…The mind boggled. In dismay, she decided she would have to ask him if vampires could get and pass on STD's. She hoped not, but really, it was something she needed to know.

“You had begun to weary of life,” the psychic went on, grabbing Kate's attention. “It all seemed so hard, and the cruelties of man had begun to wear you down. But something—no, not something, but someone—someone has reinvigorated you. Made you feel it might be worth living again. That there is still joy to be had.”

Kate's tongue seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth. Someone? Who? Some secret part of her hoped it was she. At the same time, the idea terrified her. She was attracted to Lucern. She had even come to like and respect him, but—

“Hold on to her.” The woman was staring deeply into Luc's eyes. “You will have to fight for her, but not in the way you are used to. Weapons and physical strength will do you no good in this battle. It is your own pride and fear you will have to fight. If you fail, your heart will shrivel in your chest, and you will die a lonely, bitter old man, regretting what you didn't do.”

Lucern jerked his hand free, then stood and walked away. Kate turned to follow, but the psychic suddenly latched onto her hand. “Wait. Your man will be all right for a minute.”

Kate stiffened. “He isn't my man.”

The psychic's expression suggested that Kate wasn't fooling anyone. The woman said, “He is special, your man. But to be with him you will have to make a choice. You will have to give up all. If you have the
courage, everything you ever wanted will be yours. If not…” She shrugged and released Kate's hand. “Now go to your man. Only you can calm him.”

Kate hurried after Lucern, aware that Jodi was on her heels. The skin of her wrist still tingled where the psychic had touched her, prickled as if she had been shocked. Kate rubbed it absently, her thoughts scattered. She would have to give up all, but would gain everything she ever wanted? How was that even possible? She shrugged the concern away as she rushed out of the room and spotted Lucern disappearing around a corner.

By the time the two women had caught up with him in the Roundhouse Publishing hospitality suite, Luc was seated at a table, surrounded by fans.

Allison was gesturing for Kate to join them across the room. Kate glanced uncertainly from her boss to Lucern.

“I'll see if Luc's okay. You go see what your boss wants,” Jodi suggested, giving her a push toward the head editor. “We haven't much longer here, anyway. They're closing up early to allow everyone time to prepare for the Renaissance costume ball and banquet.”

Oh, yes, Kate thought as she moved toward her boss. Tonight was the costume ball.

 

Lucern nodded solemnly as the reader he had been speaking to stood and went to speak with Jodi. He was becoming used to talking to readers. He had tried his best not to at first, but Kate's lecture in his home kept popping into his mind—how, without them, he wouldn't be published. That he touched their lives, and
that they only wished to tell him so. He'd learned to respond in somewhat of a pleasant manner to the embarrassing compliments they gave, but had found that with this little effort the readers opened further to him. They told him things, gave him parts of themselves he didn't know how to handle.

One woman had told him she'd just lost her young son, that life seemed bleak and endlessly cruel to her but that she'd found escape and hope in his books. Perhaps life would be good again someday. Then she had forced a laugh and told him she only wished that vampirism were true, that if she had believed in it, she would have searched the earth for a vampire to save her child.

Lucern had ached for the woman. He'd felt her pain reaching out to him and seeping into his body. He knew it was wrong, but he hadn't been able to let her just walk away. He'd slipped inside her mind and…not removed her pain, but veiled it somewhat, easing it for her so that the good memories were stronger than the bad. She'd walked away smiling.

He had met many wounded people today. Once he'd opened to them, he couldn't seem to close them out. But he had met many people who were just fine, too. He had found the whole experience interesting, to say the least. He had written his books for purely selfish reasons, to record the truth. But now he saw that the books were touching the lives of many others. It made him want to try his hand at genuine fiction, something he had never considered. He had started his life as a warrior. After a hundred years of that, he'd been something of a rakehell. When he had tired of that, he had
donned a scholarly persona and buried himself in history. Perhaps it was time to turn to more creative pursuits. But would he be good at it?

“Okay. Time to go.” Kate suddenly appeared at his side. “Allison is closing the hospitality suite early so everyone has plenty of time to prepare for the Renaissance ball.”

Luc breathed a sigh of relief. The other writers seemed to echo it. While it was rewarding to speak to readers, it was also wearying. Lucern was surprised at how exhausted he felt.

As he walked with Kate to the elevator, he reminded himself to definitely remember to feed before the ball. It was imperative. Which brought his thoughts around to the matter of the ball. A Renaissance ball.

Well, he had very fond memories of that period. For that reason, Lucern was sure the night's ball would be fun.

The Renaissance ball was awful. When thinking about the era, Lucern had forgotten one thing: the dresses the women wore. He remembered unhappily just as Kate stepped out of her bedroom and into the shared living room.

She wore a full-length Elizabethan gown of burgundy brocade and white lace. It had a velvet bodice with the traditional pointed stomacher. Her long skirts and sleeve caps were pleated. She looked lovely. Truly. But the bodice was what really made the gown; it forced her breasts together and up so that they appeared ready to tumble out at any moment. Lucern's mouth began to water the moment she appeared. Then it struck him that he wouldn't be the only one looking at those luscious round orbs on such display. Kate was going to wear this damn thing in public. He didn't like that thought at all.

Lucern had opened his mouth to tell her so when she
froze and blinked at him. “What the hell are you wearing?” she asked.

He stiffened in surprise. Glancing down at the dark blue costume he wore, he said, “This is traditional sixteenth-century wear,” he said. “Did you not order it?”

“Yes, of course. But I just told them the sizes and didn't specify…” Kate's voice trailed off, and she frowned at him.

“You don't like it?”

“Like it? Well, it's just…you look kind of…er…froufrou,” she said at last. “I mean…the black leotards show off your legs nicely, but…?”

“They are called trunk hose,” Lucern informed her. He was still trying to figure out what froufrou meant. It didn't sound complimentary, the way she said it. Unhappily, he did not keep up with modern euphemisms. He really should get out more. “I thought you edited historical romance, too,” he said, perhaps a touch peevishly.

“Mostly medieval,” she explained. “Renaissance hasn't been that popular.” Her lips pursed, then twisted somewhat to the side. “So, what is that…er…”—she waved in the general direction of his groin—“that duck thing?”

Lucern sighed. “It is a codpiece.”

“Oh.” She nodded slowly, considering the rather exaggerated item.

Lucern peered down and considered it as well. It was huge, a puffed and slashed bag ornamented with several jeweled pins. It was also a tad misshapen from storage and did vaguely resemble a duck. This was obviously an early Renaissance costume. The codpiece
had fallen out of favor during Queen Elizabeth's reign.

“I have read about those, but I thought they were supposed to be…er…rounder or something. You're going to hurt yourself. Someone will walk past you, bang into it and—”

“Hey! You two look great!” Chris came out of his room wearing a red and burgundy outfit not unlike Lucern's. His codpiece was a tad more normal, however.

Lucern smiled at the younger man, feeling the tension seep out of him. He hadn't cared for having Kate pick on his costume, and even worse was having her attention focused on his codpiece. Knowing she was staring had made the bit of anatomy it covered stir with interest.

“So”—Chris glanced from one of them to the other—“are we ready to go?”

 

Kate was positive her breasts were going to pop out of her gown. She was doing her best not to breathe, in order to prevent it from happening, but every time she had to curtsy she also said a little prayer that they stay in place. Fortunately, they did—but each time she straightened it was to find Lucern glaring at every man within looking distance. Kate found it rather amusing.

What she didn't find amusing was the way women were staring at Luc's codpiece. The damned thing sparkled and glittered, to jeweled pins catching every passing light. Kate's own eyes had been drawn repeatedly as well. It was damned embarrassing how distracting the thing was. Not that Lucern seemed to notice. If he was aware of the way two thousand women in the room were gawking at his groin, he pretended not to be and
walked with pride. She didn't know where he got the courage. Had she walked in wearing sparkling cones on her breasts, she would have been cringing and trying to hide them.

“Wow, what a bash, huh?” Chris commented.

Kate peered around at the entertainment. There were musicians, jesters, dancers and minstrels. It really did resemble how she imagined a ball of old would appear. Her hand tightened on Lucern's arm, and she leaned up to his ear to whisper, “Is this how it really was?”

He hesitated. “Somewhat. Of course, the lighting would have been dimmer. We had only candlelight then, no electricity. The floor would have been covered with rushes. Dogs and rats would have been scavenging for spare bits of food. The smell would have been far less pleasant and—”

“That's okay,” Kate interrupted. “I like our ball better.”

“Hmm.” He nodded.

They found a table and were barely seated when Jodi and several other writers joined them. The conversation was at first dominated by amazement at Lady Barrow's accomplishment. The jesters were amusing, the minstrels played ancient instruments. The dinner, when it was served, was delicious if not quite true Renaissance fare.

Once the plates were cleared away, the dancing began. Lucern murmured that he would be back in a moment, and Kate, presuming he had to go to the men's room, nodded absently, her attention on the dancers swirling around the room. She turned to say something to Jodi, who had taken the seat on Lucern's other side,
but paused when she saw Lucern was still there. “I thought you were…”

Her voice trailed away as she noted that his hands were under the table. He appeared to be…doing something. “What…?” she began in amazement.

“I am caught on something,” he said shortly.

Kate blinked, confusion filling her mind. “What do you mean, you're caught on something?” She was imagining…well, it was best she didn't think too long on what she was imagining. She soon learned it was worse than that.

“The tablecloth,” he said, ducking slightly to the side in an attempt to see the problem. “One of the pins.”

It was all he had to say; Kate got the picture at once. One of the jeweled pins on his codpiece had somehow gotten caught on the tablecloth. Much to her horror, a burst of laughter slipped from her lips.

Lucern wasn't amused. “This isn't funny,” he told her grimly. “I have to relieve myself rather urgently. And I can't get up.”

“So…you people have to go to the bathroom, too?” Kate asked with interest.

Lucern glared at her as if she'd lost her mind. “Where do you get your thoughts?”

“Well,” she explained in self-defense, “Bram in his books, never had Dracula relieve himself. I just never thought—”

“I doubt if he had Mina relieve herself, either,” Lucern growled. He jerked at the tablecloth, making it and everything on it slide an inch or so toward him.

The conversation around the table stopped. Kate glanced up to see that everyone was staring at Lucern
with varying levels of horrified fascination. Knowing that Lucern would never ask for help, Kate decided to save him from his pride. She drew attention to herself by clearing her throat, then smiled at Chris. “C.K., can you help Lucern? He's in some difficulty.”

“Sure, what's the problem?” Her friend started to rise.

“One of the pins on his codpiece has attached itself to the tablecloth. Maybe you could crawl under the table and set him loose,” she suggested.

Chris laughed and paused. “You're kidding, right?”

When she shook her head, he dropped abruptly back into his seat. “Sorry. Codpiece removal is not my department.”

“Chris!” Kate said grimly.

“Kate,” he responded dryly. “He's
your
writer.
You
crawl under the table and undo him.”

“I thought you liked him,” she said accusingly.

“Not that much,” Chris shot back. Then he glanced apologetically to Lucern. “Sorry, Luc.”

“I quite understand. I'll manage.” He responded with dignity, but he was blushing fiercely, Kate noted with interest. She hadn't known that vampires could blush.

He jerked the tablecloth again in his efforts, and Kate frowned. He was going to upset the table or wreck the costume she'd rented. Neither option was a good one. She had no desire to find the remnants of the dinner on her rented costume; she didn't want to have to pay to clean it. Nor did she want to replace the ridiculous codpiece Lucern wore because he'd ruined it. Swallowing the last of her wine, she set her glass down and turned to Lucern.

“Okay. Get your hands out of the way and let me have a look.”

Lucern hesitated, then brought his hands out and onto the table. Kate promptly bent down to try to see what was going on. She was at the wrong angle. “Can't you back any further out?” she asked.

“Not without taking the tablecloth with me,” he snapped.

She straightened and peered around self-consciously, not surprised to see the tableful of writers all watching avidly. Her gaze found Jodi's on the opposite side of Lucern. “I can't see anything from this angle. I'm going to have to get under the table.”

Jodi's eyes rounded; then she got to her feet. “Come on, girls. There's no need for everyone to know what's going on. We can act as a barricade.”

The other authors all promptly got to their feet and moved around the table. Kate watched with relief as they formed a semicircle around her seat and Lucern's, their wide skirts making a nice curtain. Chris was the only one left seated. He watched the operation with wide eyes, apparently unsure whether he should be horrified or laugh.

“Go ahead,” Jodi said once everyone was in place. The other writers nodded.

Kate felt ridiculously like a soldier being sent on a solo secret mission. Wishing she'd had more wine, she took a deep breath then slid off her seat and under the table. It was terribly dark. And hot. She knelt to the side of Lucern's hosed legs, her head twisted, attempting to see the pin and what it was caught on, but she wasn't quite at the right angle and wasn't close enough.

Muttering under her breath, Kate eased closer, around his leg until she knelt between his knees; then she reached tentatively for the bunched-up tablecloth. She was absolutely not going to touch his codpiece, at least not if she could help it. She lifted the cloth a bit, but it really was attached.

“Do you need a candle or something under there?” Jodi asked helpfully. Her head suddenly appeared under the table, then it disappeared and Kate heard her ask, “Does anyone have one of those pen light things in their purse? I usually carry one, but…”

The rest of what she said was lost to Kate as the other woman straightened.

“You sure get yourself into some interesting situations, Katie my girl,” Kate muttered, trying to unbunch the cloth so that she could find where it was attached to Lucern. It was her job to be sure that things ran smoothly for her writers at these things, and to help them out of sticky situations. But it was her considered opinion that this situation was beyond the call of an editor's duties. If it hadn't been Lucern in this bind, she wouldn't even have thought of fixing it herself. Which was an interesting point, one she would contemplate later. She gave a start when something bumped the underside of her hand. It was the codpiece, Kate realized with amazement. It was growing and had bumped into her. Well, what was under it was growing. It seemed Lucern was finding the ordeal something more than just embarrassing.

Lucern wished the ground would open up and devour him. It could even take every one of the writers surrounding him, and Kate too if it liked, so long as it
ended this misery, the most embarrassing moment of his life. It wasn't bad enough that his codpiece was attached to a tablecloth, but now Kate was kneeling between his legs trying to untangle him, and that was giving rise to thoughts that had nothing to do with getting free so he could visit the men's room. He was imagining what it would be like if, instead of untangling the tablecloth, she would simply shift the codpiece aside, pull him out and wrap her lips around him. Then he realized he had gone hard, and he hoped to God she didn't notice.

How had he ended up in this position? He was a man who liked order and routine. He did not attend conferences, or Renaissance balls. How had his life got so out of control? Something nudged against his codpiece, and he jerked upright in his seat, drawing the attention of the women around him.

“Sorry.” Kate's voice came muffled from under the table. It sounded like she was speaking through gritted teeth. Lucern closed his eyes in humiliation and wished himself staked through the heart.

“Did she stick you with the pin?” Beth, one of the writers, asked in concern.

Lucern grunted in answer, but it came out more like a whimper. Taking that for a yes, Beth patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“Here you are!”

Lucern turned his head to see Lady Barrow making her way to him through the gathering of authors, Jodi pressed herself against the table next to his leg, blocking the view of Kate underneath. Lady Barrow appeared a little curious as to why the women were all clustered
there, but she didn't ask. Instead, she smiled at Lucern.

“Allison told me you were feeling better, but I wanted to see for myself.”

Lucern stared at her, knowing his eyes had gone as round as pumpkins. Normally, he would have stood when a lady approached; but that was impossible. That wasn't the reason his eyes had gone round, though. The fact was, unaware of Lady Barrow's presence, Kate had just grabbed his codpiece and shifted it. She had also—unintentionally?—grabbed hold of the part of his anatomy that was expanding in size, filling to capacity the overlarge codpiece.

“Sorry.” Kate's voice came from under the table again. “I'm having trouble seeing this pin.”

Lady Barrow's smile froze. Her eyes shot down to where Jodi's skirts hid the table, then traveled up to the writer's alarmed face, then slid to Lucern's mortified expression. Before she could say a word, Kate's voice sounded again. It was irritated and short. “Dammit, Lucern! The moment I get you unhooked, I insist you take these damn pins out. They're a bloody nuisance.”