Dreaming Of A Blood Red Christmas (Kindred, Book 8.1) Read Free Page B

surprise," I say, bowing my head slightly, my hand fisted over my chest in vampyre greeting. I do not wait for her reply before I stand upright. I am the Champion of all vampyre.
    The blonde haired woman before me bows low, offering a deep show of respect. It is warranted, but not necessarily expected. The last time I saw Petra she tried to sever my head from my neck. My fangs itch to descend at the memory.
    "Champion," she purrs, Sanguis Vitam dripping off every syllable. She must know it is useless, I am above her sordid games. "You do me an honour with your greeting."
    I say nothing. Just stand there, in the centre of my hotel's lobby, my guards at my back, Alain standing resolute to the side. The humans who frequent this hotel are oblivious to the preternatural battle of wills being fought in their midst. Vampyres are not common knowledge, as far as they are concerned I own this building, and am merely an extremely rich man.
    "How long has it been?" she asks, her entire demeanour one of friendly banter and old times. "Three centuries? No, maybe three and a half. You look good, Michel. And now you no longer kowtow to the former Champion, but have instead replaced her. Amicus always knew you'd go far."
    "Amicus traded earth for Álfheimr fifty years after he turned me," I point out. "I hardly think he had time before doing so to impart that knowledge to you."
    "Oh, sweet brother. He had more than enough time and do you honestly think we did not converse before you brought him the final death in London?"
    I do not like where this conversation is heading, and I do not wish to encourage her further, but word of Lucinda travelling down in the elevator has reached me through her guard. She will walk in on this within the next few minutes, it must be over or moved elsewhere.
    By the look on my blood-sister's face this conversation is nowhere near over.
    "Perhaps a drink?" I suggest, indicating the bar off to the side of the foyer we're in.
    "Splendid," she declares, turning in a swish of blood red fabric, displaying a vast amount of naked cream flesh down her back.
    My vampyres uniformly let out a growl. Petra is dressed to impress. Why?
    Lucinda is nearly here, Alain informs me. Would you like me to personally see she is directed away from the bar?
    Yes , I reply, but don't bother to give further instructions. Alain is a master at what he does, even my kindred will fail to see the ruse. For now.
    My attention must remain focused. I need to find out why after all this time Petra has chosen to rise from her coffin and seek me out.
    We sit down opposite each other in a small, enclosed and private booth, the padded velvet seats and high backs providing comfort and luxury without the inconvenience of an audience. I may no longer own Sensations , but the Plaza Hotel Bar is becoming synonymous with fine dining and exquisite entertainment in Auckland city. Just because the Iunctio Council chooses to reside several stories above this room does not mean it cannot be an establishment to rival any other.
    I watch my quarry, who watches me back with equal determination. We size each other up, but for the life of me, I cannot work out why she is here. Why now? Glasses of my finest Merlot are placed before us, Doug making eye contact as he pulls away. All my vampyres are on guard. They sense my unease, it ripples throughout the room in a malevolent wave.
    "Where have you been?" I ask, lifting my glass to my lips and inhaling the rich aroma. Lucinda likes this vintage, but has been unable to partake during her pregnancy. I avoid drinking this wine in front of her usually, and suddenly I have an attack of guilt.
    I am drinking one of my wife's favourite alcoholic beverages with another woman.
    I'd be lucky if it was only a stake to the chest I receive.
    My lips twitch at the vision. The movement not missed by my enemy.
    "Here and there. Keeping busy and out of trouble."
    I do manage a smile on those words. Petra craves trouble, she does not shun