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“Calm down, Marcus. The car’s not back. She must have gone in. Get Jonno to see where she is,” Xander puts in.
Christ, I’m not thinking. Of course, Jonno.
I turn to tell someone to find him, when I see a dust cloud moving way too fast, coming up the drive. The Land Rover skids to a halt and out she jumps in a ball of dust and dirt, grinning like a maniac.
“I lost track of?—”
“Where the fuck have you been?” I shout at her.
She stops in her tracks. “The village,” she thumbs over her shoulder in the general direction of it. She then blasts me with a smile and shouts, “It was amazing, Kellen. You won’t believe what I bought. I’ve got the best thing for Phillipe.”
Phillipe. My mind is reeling. “The gardener,” she puts in, just in case I don’t know who Phillipe is.
Jumping into my arms before I can start shouting again, she kisses me full throttle. As she pulls back, she says, “I missed you, Kell. It would have been better if you were with me.” She’s trying to distract me, and, as she kisses me again, she knows I know it.
Someone coughs at the side of us, and she turns her head, looks, and smiles at Xan.
“Hey, Xan.” She pulls away again and goes to hug him.
“Well played, Kitten,” he laughs as she side-eyes him.
“Well, thanks for the welcoming committee. It’s great to see you all, but I best go get dressed. Dracula waits for no one.” And with that, she skips past us all and into the house.
“She’s going to fucking kill me,” I say to the assembled crowd, laughing and shaking my head.
“What a way to go though, brother,” Gabe laughs and smacks me on the back. “You’ll be the happiest dead man ever.”
The chateau looks amazing. They’ve made my beautiful home look beautifully derelict. Everyone understood the assignment and is in fancy dress adhering to the vampire theme, some slightly more tenuous than others. I see a few Edward Cullens wandering about, as well as a Jacob. I smile at that. What lengths people will go to show off their abs—a move I would have done a few years ago.
The ladies have gone all out with several in seductive dresses. Lots of flesh on show in some cases. And some crazy head gear.
I’ve gone for Dracula from the Francis Ford Coppola film. A very Gary Oldman vibe—Dracula as the count rather than the vampire—with full blue trendy glasses and top hat. I didn’t bother with a wig, I’ve just got to pull it off with swagger. Not an issue for me.
I haven’t seen Evie. She locked her door and shouted she’d meet me down there when I tried to get in. God knows what she’ll look like. She’s had about twenty-five minutes to get ready, everyone else has been at it for hours.
I feel her before I see her, picking up on a ripple of noise unlike the steady chatter I’ve been listening to. I’m at the bar, surrounded mainly by ladies. It has to be said. I catch Jonno’s eye and he nods towards the stairs.
“Vell, ladies, if you vill all excuse me,” I say in fake Eastern European accented English, “I have matters to attend to.” I pull my glasses down and look around at them all for dramatic effect. They look back at me like a hungry pack of wolves. As I leave, I hear a few of them say I can attend to them any time. Normally I would have taken at least two of them to a room downstairs by now, but not a chance tonight.
I stand at the doorway to the now derelict entrance hall and look up as the bride of Dracula floats down the stairs towards me, her bridesmaid in tow. Her brother Jude, dressed in a suit similar to a witch doctor from a Bond movie, hovers at her elbow, and they’re laughing at each other.
My fucking heart stops beating.
She’s dressed in white. White lace, from the high neckline to the floor. She’s painted her bare shoulders and arms in a sheen of white body paint to lighten her skin, and it shimmers hypnotically in the candle light. Her face is pale, with blood red lips and dramatic dark eyes. She’s tipped talc into her hair and combed it back with a mix of jewels, leaves, and twigs in it.
“Kitten,” I breathe out, stepping forward like a bridegroom at a wedding to take her out of the arms of the man giving her away, “you look fucking delicious.”
“Looks like you’ve already taken a few bites, Kellen,” quips Jude, as he points to marks she’s got up and down her neck. He turns her to point out the marks on the back of her neck and back, showcasing the deep cut of her dress. So low, there’s even a mark—one I intended for my appreciation only—peeking out clearly at the top of her arse cheek.
“Alvays want to be authentic, Jude,” I smirk at him. “I’ve only just got started.”
“I’ll pray for you, Evie,” laughs Grace from behind.
I can feel all eyes on us, even though I know if I looked no one would be looking directly at us. I pull her into my arms and kiss her, making sure I smudge her lipstick onto her face a bit. “That’s better,” I say, looking into her eyes. “It’ll look even better smeared around my cock.”
Jude starts to cough and Grace makes a squeaking noise.
“Such a pretty talker,” she says, also affecting a fake European accent. Drawing the nail of her index finger along my jawline, in a move so erotic my rock hard cock twitches in my dress trousers, she purrs, “Promises, promises,” and holds out her hand to me.
