JК
Danse Macabre :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 31 из 427The problem was that the two masters in the other room had brought along candidates to be my new pomme de sang .
It was my own damn fault. I hadn't chosen from any of the local talent. I had also expressed concern about bringing this many Masters of the City into our territory. It just didn't sound safe to me. So Elinore, one of our new British vamps, had an idea. A wonderfully, awful idea. Since Masters of the City were coming from all over the United States, why didn't we have a sort of contest? The masters could bring some candidates for my new pomme de sang .
I'd said no. In fact, I'd said hell no, but Jean-Claude had pointed out that I could simply turn them all down. That the chances of my finding someone I liked well enough to keep were slim. He had a point. And Elinore was right, it was a way to get all the masters to behave themselves while they were visiting us. I mean, if you're looking at what amounts to your new inlaws, you mind your manners. I couldn't argue with the reasoning, but it meant that I felt like a piece of prize beef. Or would that be cheesecake?
Why was I such a prize? Because I was Jean-Claude's human servant and he was the first American master to become his own sourdre de sang , fountain of blood. Basically he'd hit the power curve where he was his own bloodline. It was rare, very rare, for any master vamp to hit that level of power, and he was our first in this country. It was a very big deal. We hadn't advertised the fact, but the Vampire High Council over in Europe knew it, and apparently they hadn't kept it entirely secret. We'd gotten a lot of overtures of friendship in the last few weeks. All right, we'd gotten a lot of people trying to align themselves with us. Not the same thing as friendship, actually, but better than the alternatives.
But when I agreed to all of it, I had never dreamt that I'd be doing the first introductions without Jean-Claude on my arm. Shit.
Micah took my arm in his. «It's going to be fine.»
Nathaniel hugged me. «We'll help you be charming.»
«I'm just not the Cinderella type,» I said.
«But you're not Cinderella, Anita, you're the prince. You're Prince Charming.»
I stared into Nathaniel's lavender eyes, and felt the first cold hand of fear in my stomach. Me, Prince Charming? There had to be some mistake.
Though I guess if you have to choose between being the woman who is trying to catch the prince's eye, or the prince who doesn't want to be caught, prince is better. Or at least that's what I told myself as Clay led us through the door, and the drapes that formed the walls of the living room.
It was my own damn fault. I hadn't chosen from any of the local talent. I had also expressed concern about bringing this many Masters of the City into our territory. It just didn't sound safe to me. So Elinore, one of our new British vamps, had an idea. A wonderfully, awful idea. Since Masters of the City were coming from all over the United States, why didn't we have a sort of contest? The masters could bring some candidates for my new pomme de sang .
I'd said no. In fact, I'd said hell no, but Jean-Claude had pointed out that I could simply turn them all down. That the chances of my finding someone I liked well enough to keep were slim. He had a point. And Elinore was right, it was a way to get all the masters to behave themselves while they were visiting us. I mean, if you're looking at what amounts to your new inlaws, you mind your manners. I couldn't argue with the reasoning, but it meant that I felt like a piece of prize beef. Or would that be cheesecake?
Why was I such a prize? Because I was Jean-Claude's human servant and he was the first American master to become his own sourdre de sang , fountain of blood. Basically he'd hit the power curve where he was his own bloodline. It was rare, very rare, for any master vamp to hit that level of power, and he was our first in this country. It was a very big deal. We hadn't advertised the fact, but the Vampire High Council over in Europe knew it, and apparently they hadn't kept it entirely secret. We'd gotten a lot of overtures of friendship in the last few weeks. All right, we'd gotten a lot of people trying to align themselves with us. Not the same thing as friendship, actually, but better than the alternatives.
But when I agreed to all of it, I had never dreamt that I'd be doing the first introductions without Jean-Claude on my arm. Shit.
Micah took my arm in his. «It's going to be fine.»
Nathaniel hugged me. «We'll help you be charming.»
«I'm just not the Cinderella type,» I said.
«But you're not Cinderella, Anita, you're the prince. You're Prince Charming.»
I stared into Nathaniel's lavender eyes, and felt the first cold hand of fear in my stomach. Me, Prince Charming? There had to be some mistake.
Though I guess if you have to choose between being the woman who is trying to catch the prince's eye, or the prince who doesn't want to be caught, prince is better. Or at least that's what I told myself as Clay led us through the door, and the drapes that formed the walls of the living room.