Page 96 of Of Flame and Fate
I try not to roll my eyes, a hard feat in the presence of these vampires.
Chef rushes around the French-inspired kitchen slaving away. I’d always envisioned chefs as full-figured people, dressed in white uniforms, black pants, and funny hats. That’s before I met Chef. He has the shirt, the pants, and hell, the funny hat, too. But Chef looks more Gucci model than gold-medalist cook.
The black pants hug an ass so tight you could throw marbles against it and they would crack. Oh, and that white shirt is close to splitting from his overly muscular chest. Wisps of curly black hair escape the funny hat, and if he’d eat half the magnificent meals he prepared we’d need the jaws of life to extract him.
To his benefit, Chef prefers to dine on people. Not that he particularly likes anyone. He rarely speaks, unless you count all the swearing he does in French.
“Merde,” he shouts again.
I take a seat at the counter. “Hey, Chef,” I say. “Thank you for breakfast—”
He stops in the middle of banging his pots and pans to point a knife at me. “I only prepare such things for you,” he says in a thick and overly dramatic French accent. “Tonight you will dine on lamb stuffed with lentils.”
“Okay, if you insist. Where’s Misha?”
“In zee solarium.”
He whips around, just to swear at the lamb stretched across the counter. He probably needs a nap, or perhaps a virgin to munch on.
I walk through the house and into the grand foyer, my steps the only sound. I’m wondering where the hell everyone is when the familiar feel of vampire magic has me glancing up.
What looks like Misha’s entire keep waits along the open hall on the second floor. I rest my hand on the railing. “What are you guys doing up there?”
They exchange glances, not that anyone bothers answering. I start to climb when their hands shoot out, waving madly and clearly telling me to stay put.
Sweet, child-like laughter drifts from the solarium. I glimpse toward it and then back at the vampires. “Misha’s fiancée has a kid?” I ask.
Panic spreads like fire among them and they try to shush me. Apparently, I’m not supposed to mention the kid.
“The master’s expecting you in the solarium,” Agnes mutters through her teeth.
“Okay,” I say, slowly, wondering what the hell has them on edge this time.
I cross the wide foyer, feeling the vamps’ stares burning holes into my back. Again, the little girl laughs. I stop at the entrance to the solarium.
“Hey, Misha.”
His name doesn’t quite make it out of my throat. He turns from where he was speaking with a young woman on the couch. I glance around, expecting, I don’t know, his fiancée. The only other person present is a very stone-faced woman dressed in black, watching them from her spot in the corner.
The girl stands when Misha does. “Good evening, Taran,” he says.
“Hey,” I say again, my attention returning to the young woman.
She’s wearing a blue sundress, very conservative and simple yet likely very expensive. Her skin is olive like mine and her long black hair hangs to her waist. Dark, almost black eyes blink back at me warily. She’s tall for her age, at least five feet six inches, and stunning. When she’s all grown up, she’ll be gorgeous. But she isn’t a woman yet, and she has no business standing this close to Misha.
I frown and walk toward them, wondering why someone so young is hanging at the supernatural equivalent of the Playboy Mansion.
“You look rested, my dear,” Misha says to me. A few strands that escape his clip fall to brush against his charcoal silk dress shirt. “And lovely as always.”
The sweet-looking girl furrows her eyebrows. She didn’t like the “my dear” comment and she sure as hell doesn’t like him referring to me as lovely.
I don’t like the additional step she takes toward Misha. “I’m Taran,” I tell her. “Who are you?”
Misha smiles. “Allow me to introduce you to Breasha. She is to bear my son.”
A breeze smacks against my face as Misha’s vampires appear at once. Vampires always come to the aid of their master, and I have theirs by the throat.
Misha straightens, easily breaking away from me. I grab him by the collar and force him nose to nose with me, ignoring the escalating hisses from the vampires.