A Tale of Two Vampires (Page 31)

Nikola gave me a long look.

I smiled even broader at the woman as she swore in German, holding up one foot and hopping around in pain. “Sorry. You done here, Nikola? Excellent. Let’s go on up to the hotel and see if there’s somewhere we can park Thor.”

He frowned at me, then looked back at the truck. “This woman has offered to show me the inside of her carriage. It appears to be run on that engine you mentioned, and I wish to see it. If I am to explore your world, then I must understand how things function, and that includes how a—” He glanced at the side of the truck. “—how a FedEx works.”

“Oh, honey,” I said, taking him by the arm and gently pulling him away from the temptress. “She wants to show you much more than just how she delivers packages.”

Io, I wish to see inside this carriage.

I know you do, but honestly, that woman doesn’t give a hoot about you looking around at how the truck is built. She just wants to jump your bones.

He looked faintly puzzled. Why would she want to kill me and assault my bones? I have done nothing to her.

Nikola, you’re what, sixty-some years old? Well, you don’t look more than thirty, an extremely handsome thirty, what with your gorgeous eyes, and that black hair, and of course your face, not to mention your chest and legs and naughty parts, and that woman—really, could she be any more blatant? I’m standing right here with my hand on you and she’s still yammering away in German. What’s she saying? I bet she’s whispering mechanical sweet nothings in your ear, isn’t she? Anyway, she just wants to do all those things to you that I want to do, and since I don’t share, she’s not going to have the chance to do them in the back of her smutmobile.

He gave me another long look as he pulled out his notebook. I understand now. You are jealous.

So not true.

The woman tried to tug Nikola toward the truck.

I saw red. “Look, babe, you may do things differently here in Austria, and I’m all for being a good American abroad and stuff like that, but if you do that one more time, I’m going to deck you. He’s not up for grabs, capisce?”

The woman snarled something rude at me in German. Nikola laughed, and answered her in the same language before taking Thor’s reins, and slipping his other arm around me, urging me forward toward the center of town.

“All right, Mr. Urbane, what did she say that made you laugh? And what did you say back to her that made her look so shocked?”

“She asked if I could get rid of my mother so that she might answer all my questions about her carriage.”

I gasped. “Your mother! That bitch!”

He gave my waist a little squeeze. “I told her that you were my woman, and that although I appreciated the fact that she wanted to bone me, only you were allowed to do that.”

“Uh… Nikola, we’re going to have to have a chat about colloquialisms in the very near future,” I said, wondering how on earth I was going to explain to him the intricacies of modern slang. “But seriously, your mother? OK, I look older than you, but still. I only look a little older than you, just a smidgen older, but that’s because you look so frigging young.”

He shrugged. “If you like, I will change myself to appear older, although you do not look ancient, as you are thinking. You look…mature.”

I opened my eyes really wide and looked at him. “You do not tell a woman she looks mature. That’s tantamount to saying she’s an old hag.”

“Ah? How about ripe?”

I took a deep breath. “Look, I may not be as buffed and toned as Miss Austrian Hussypants back there, but I am not mature, and I am not ripe. I’m thirty-nine if you want to be absolutely specific, and my friends, my friends say that I look much younger. Much, much younger! OK, so forty is just two months away, but that doesn’t mean squat, because everyone knows that women just get better after thirty, whereas men have already peaked and are declining. So you can stuff that up your…hey. What do you mean you will change yourself to appear older?”

“If it bothers you that I appear to be younger, I will modify my appearance.”

I stared at him in amazement. “You mean dye your hair or something?”

“No. I did this for my wife, when she aged. She, too, disliked the fact that I looked much younger than her.” His brows pulled together a little. “I assume that is a trait particular to women, although Imogen does not yet display such leanings.”

“You mean you can actually change how you look?” I waved a hand around in a vague gesture. “Like, magically? Can you turn into a bat, too? Or a wolf?”

He looked at me as if I were the one being out of the ordinary. “Of course not. And yes, I discovered soon after Benedikt was born that I could alter my appearance to show age if I so chose. When my wife died, it changed back without me being aware of it until one day Imogen pointed out that I looked younger.”

He gave a little shrug. “It wasn’t something I consciously controlled. I assume it was just how I was comfortable appearing to others.”

“Wow. That’s…wow. I guess it must be so you guys don’t stand out in a crowd,” I said, musing on the idea. “I mean, a person who never ages would attract attention. But what did your servants think when you started to go back to Nikola Prime?”

“We were living in Vienna when she died. Following that, I went back to England for a few years, then returned here with the servants, and opened up Andras Castle again.”

“Clever. So, can you do it right now?”

He looked startled. “Do what?”

“Change so you look older? I wouldn’t make such a big fuss about it, but my cousin is going to bring my things to the hotel, and I don’t want her thinking I’m cradle robbing.”

He stopped in the middle of one of the little squares that were satellites to the center of town. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he looked at me, the irises darkening to sapphire. I watched him closely, holding my breath, not knowing what to expect.

His face shifted slightly, blurring a little, then sharpening until faint lines fanned out from his eyes. A few strands of silver appeared at his temples, barely visible, but there if you looked close enough.

“That’s amazing! How do you do that?”

He smiled, his new laugh lines crinkling in a way that made my knees want to melt. Nikola looking like he was thirty was utterly gorgeous. Nikola looking fifteen years older was mind-numbingly irresistible. I just wanted to rip off his clothes and molest him. “It’s a matter of shifting my mental age.”

“Huh?”

We resumed walking. “I did some thinking about this when my wife complained that I would continue to look young while she aged—and the day that she noticed I no longer looked as young—and came to the conclusion that I could alter my appearance if I felt older or younger. I call it a mental age. It is the age that I feel I am, despite the number of years that I carry.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then I’m mentally twenty-five, which is a really scary thought, since I was a mess at twenty-five. Nikola…” I stopped him with a hand on his chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bitched at you and made you change how you look. That wasn’t fair of me. I honestly liked you the way you were, even if I will be letting myself in for some cradle-robbing jokes. Go back to the way you are comfortable looking.”

“If you insist,” he said, pulling me forward into a kiss despite the fact that we were clearly visible by everyone walking or driving through the square. His mouth was as hot as sin, and twice as delicious, and I came seriously close to just throwing caution to the wind and tackling him right then and there, but luckily, Nikola had more presence of mind than me, and managed to break off the kiss before I did so.

Not more presence of mind, sweetling. I’ve just had longer to learn to control my desires. Although if we do not find a private place in the next hour, that control will be severely tested, and I will not answer for my actions.

Don’t worry, we’ll have a hotel room to…er…feed you. Um. I hate to tell you this, Nikola, but you didn’t change back. You still have laugh lines and a tiny bit of silver in your hair.

“You told me to appear as I was comfortable. I have done so,” he said blithely, his hand on my back as we continued through the square.

“To the left,” I said, pointing and looking at him from the corner of my eye. I wanted to protest that he didn’t need to stay looking older than me just to make me happy, but damn. He really was beyond sexy like this.

He smiled, and I damned my inability to keep my thoughts to myself.

“Why are we going to a hotel to meet your cousin? You said earlier that we would stay with her.”

“Yes, well…” I coughed. “The bed in the room where I’m staying squeaks, and I thought we’d be more comfortable at a hotel.”

“It squeaks?” His eyes widened, turning to pale blue that shimmered with heat. “Just so. A hotel would be better.”

I ignored the fact that I was blushing like crazy, and concentrated instead on walking the next three blocks without once thinking about licking Nikola.

Or touching him.

Or rubbing myself against his naked flesh.

Sweetling, if you do not cease thinking about those things, I will bed you right here in the street, and there is not even a verge in which we might disport ourselves.

Sorry. I’ll try not to think about how much I want to touch your chest, and stomach, and legs, and…and…dear god, Nikola! Stop thinking about that! It’s too much! Wait…with a strap?

Yes. It holds you up at the correct angle. I’m told that the sensation of such an angle is quite pleasing for the female.

My legs felt like rubber as his erotic thoughts—and they were far, far more erotic than my own musings—filled my brain, but we made it to the hotel without either of us embarrassing ourselves.