Lucy
Dominik Király, the vampire king, is offering me, a Van Helsing, a deal?
And I have to be considering it because I didn’t tell him to go back to where he was spawned. Otherwise why on earth would I even be contemplating what he’s offering?
I’m pregnant, not stupid. I can have my child, in peace, back in London.
Except, in my heart, I know I can’t. There’s work to deal with, and my bosses are about as likely to welcome my pregnancy as they would to offer me, a woman, a partnership.
Then there’s my uncle who is going to be less than impressed with my choices, in particular the fact my current situation is the result of a drunken one-night stand and not a specially chosen warrior who could give my baby all his gene pool.
And Uncle isn’t likely to be prepared to let me give up work, especially if he thinks I’ve failed in Budapest.
All in all, it’s not looking great for a return home.
Dominik’s suggestion shouldn’t be appealing…but it sort of is…
I’ve long harbored a secret feeling that the monsters we’re told came out of the shadows are not monsters at all.
But then I am a descendant of Van Helsing, and hating monsters is in my blood.
“Vampires don’t need consorts,” I end up saying lamely after very clearly and idiotically not saying no straight away.
“My bloodline does,” Dominik says simply. “But it’s not like the damned werewolves, if that’s what you were thinking. There’s no howling at the full moon or public claiming.”
I mean, I wasn’t thinking about werewolves at all. I was more thinking about what a mated vampire would do for all eternity…together.
“So, no one is going to find it weird you’re with a human consort…a pregnant human consort.”
“No one would dare,” Dominik growls with a rare loss of decorum. “I would take their heads off for even thinking such a thing.”
“And exactly what would this pretense entail?”
“My consort…” Dominik says, pulling himself up to his full height.
I’m struck by how well his suit fits him, clinging to his clearly well-muscled form, the slim waist, the broad chest. As neatly pressed as the moment he put it on.
“She would be taken to all the best places in Budapest, provided with the finest food and wines…”
I open my mouth to contradict him on the alcohol, but he holds up an elegant, claw-tipped hand.
“Or, should that not be possible, the best mocktails the bar can provide.”
He gives me a quick glance, but I fear he has already moved into barrister mode, and this is going to be a long speech.
“She would, of course, have access to the best medical care”—I get another knowing glance—“and all sundries, such as clothing, would be provided to match the occasion. She would have one of the best suites in my nest, along with her own set of thralls to provide for her every need.”
“And in return?” I fold my arms over my chest.
“In return, she would provide me with the delight of her company on a few occasions. Public occasions. She would inform her friends and family she is with me voluntarily.”
“And when it’s all over?”
“Then you…I mean she…can pick where in the world she wants to go, and I will facilitate it.”
“Sounds idyllic,” I respond. Dominik looks smug. “If I was some sort of trophy. But I’m not. I have a life, a job, a baby on the way. I don’t…I won’t mess around with monsters.” I curl my lip.
“You have no life. You have a dingy garden flat in North London and a job which hates you as much as you hate it,” he says rapidly.
I mean, it’s not an unfair assessment of my situation. And he missed the glaring fact I haven’t told him how I ended up pregnant (other than the actual act, which is, in itself, obvious). But it is rude. Dominik is rude.
“What about my boyfriend?” I decide to test him.
“There is no boyfriend,” he says calmly, as if it’s a provable fact.
“The father…”
I don’t have time to move, or even blink, as I’m caged against the door by six foot eight of vampire male, his finger under my chin, tilting it up to him, his body pressed against mine, making me feel every inch of his muscular abdomen and beyond.
“I don’t care who the father is.” His eyes flare to red.
If it wasn’t for the fact we’ve just been discussing entering into a fake relationship, I’d have considered my jugular a goner.
And as for my knickers…
Then, as swiftly as he had me, he has backed off, as if recalling we’re supposed to be discussing a deal.
“I don’t care who the father is,” he repeats, this time his tone even. “And I guess, neither do you. So, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I doubt I’ll ever find the stranger who took me up against the wall in the depths of the nightclub,” I respond, to see if I can get any sort of response out of Dominik again. “He banged me good and proper, and that was it.”
Dominik doesn’t move. His eyes don’t leave mine. Do I detect his hand clenching next to his thigh? I’m not sure.
“But in response to your proposal, let me go think it over for twenty-four hours, and I’ll let you know.”
What am I even saying? I’ll think about it?
I must be desperate.