Eric Sinclair, king of the vampires, was back from Europe the next night, I was sorry to see. It had been a relatively uneventful six weeks despite-or because of-the vampire king's voyage to Europe. I had been careful not to ask questions, because I didn't want him to misconstrue my interest in his activities as interest in him. On the top of my brain I figured he might be abroad to check on his holdings-they were on the vast side. On the bottom, I just didn't want to know.
"Welcome back," I said to Tina, his sidekick and oldest friend. Really old... like, two hundred years or whatever. "Die," I told him.
"I did that already," he replied, folding the newspaper and setting it aside. "And I have no plans to do it again, not even for you, darling."
"I'll see you later, Majesties." Tina bowed and walked past us, out the room.
"Hi and 'bye," I said. "Why can't you follow her example?"
"Miss me?"
"Not hardly." This was sort of a lie. Eric Sinclair, at six foot huge, was an imposing presence. It wasn't just that he was big (broad shoulders, long legs) or great-looking (black eyes, dark brown hair, succulent mouth, big hands). He was charismatic... almost mesmerizing. You looked at him, and you wondered what it would be like to feel his mouth on you in the dark. He was sin in a suit.
"Come and sit down," Jessica said. "We're having a late supper. Really late."
"Jess." I sat. "How many times do I have to say this? You don't have to adjust your mealtimes just because the three of us sleep during the day."
"It's no big deal," she replied, which was a huge lie, since it was three o'clock in the morning, and she was finally having supper. Or a really early breakfast.
"You're so full of it." I poured myself a cup from the ancient tea service that had come with the house. Like just about everything in the place, it was a zillion years old and worth about that many dollars. I was almost getting used to using antiques every day. At least my heart didn't stop if I dropped something.
"I missed you," Sinclair said, as if I'd been having a conversation with him. "In fact, I was most anxious to return to your side."
"Don't start," I warned.
"No, start," Jessica said, slicing her roast beef. The smell was driving me crazy. Oooh, beef! I barely knew ye. "It's been creepily quiet around here lately."
"And I think it's time we addressed our current... difficulty."
"It is?"
He meant the fact that we were king and queen together, technically husband and wife, though we'd only had sex twice in the last six months.
"You can't turn back the clock, Elizabeth. Even one such as you has to bow to logic."
"Don't be a putz," I told him. "Pass the cream."
"I'm merely pointing out," he said, ignoring my request-both of them, come to think of it-"that you cannot be a little bit pregnant or go back to being a virgin. As we've already been intimate, and are married by vampire law-"
"Yawn," I said.
"-it's pointless not to share a room, and a bed."
"Forget it, pal." I got up and got the fucking cream myself. "Do I have to recap?"
"No," Sinclair said.
"But you will," Jessica added, not looking up from buttering her green beans.
"I slept with you once, and got stuck with the queen gig. Slept with you again, and Jessica invited you to move in."
"So, by that logic, I should give up intimate relations with Jessica," Sinclair pointed out, "not you."
"What kind of logic is that?" Jessica asked, almost laughing. "And you can just dream on, white boy."
"All of you, shut up and die."
"What'd I do?" she cried.
"You know what you did." I gave her a good glare, but she knew me too well and wasn't impressed. I decided to change the subject before we got into a real fight. Everybody knew my views on the subject. They had to be as tired of hearing about it as I was of bitching about it. "Where's Tina off to?"
"Visiting friends."
"I thought that's why you guys went to Europe."
"It's one of the reasons." Sinclair sipped his wine. "Marc is working, I assume?"
"You assume right. For once," I added, just in case it went to his head. His pointy head.
He ignored that, like he ignored 90 percent of what came out of my mouth. "I brought you something."
I was instantly distracted. And mad at myself for being distracted. And wildly curious... a present! From Europe! Gucci? Prada? Fendi?
"Oh, yeah?" I asked casually, but I nearly spilled hot tea all over myself, my hands started shaking so bad. Armani? Versace? "What'd you bring me, soap?" I tried to squash my soaring hopes. "It's soap, isn't it?"
He took a small, soap-sized black box out of his pocket and slid it over to me. I wasn't sure whether to be dismayed or excited. Small box = not shoes. But it could mean jewelry, which I liked as much as the next dead girl.
I flipped it open... and almost laughed. Strung on a silver chain-no, wait, it was Sinclair, and he never did anything halfway, so it was probably platinum-was a tiny platinum shoe, decorated with an emerald, a ruby, and a sapphire. The stones were so tiny they looked like a buckle on the shoe. It was just too adorable. And probably cost a fortune.
"Thanks, Sinclair, but I really couldn't." I slapped the box closed. I had drawn a line in the sand a few months ago, and it was tough work, sometimes, staying on my side of the line.
If I let him give me presents, what next? Sleeping together? Ruling together? Rewarding him for being sneaky?
Turning my back on my old life and forging through the next thousand years as the queen of the vampires? Lame. And again: lame.
"Keep it," he said mildly enough, but was that a flash of disappointment in his eyes? Or was it wishful thinking on my part? And if it was, what was the matter with me? "You might change your mind."
"If you ever come to your senses," Jessica mumbled to her green beans.
The thick, awkward silence was broken when Marc walked into the dining room. "Great, I'm starving. Is there any more beef?"
"Tons," I replied. "You're home early."
"Deader than hell at work, so I got off early. By the way, you've got visitors."
"Someone's here?" I put my hand on the necklace box... then took it away. What was I going to do with it? I didn't have pockets. Just hold it in my hand? Sinclair wouldn't take it back. Maybe leave it on the table? No, that'd be kind of bitchy. Right? Shit.
Why did he have to do this stuff? He must have known I wouldn't have accepted it. Right? Shit. "I didn't hear the doorbell." Stick it down the back of my pants and smuggle it out of the room? Hide it in my bra?
"I caught them on the porch. It's Andrea and Daniel. They said they need to ask you something."
I stood up, glad for a chance to get away from Awkward Dining 101. "Well, let's go see what they want."
"Don't forget your necklace," Jessica said brightly, and I almost groaned.