Anna and the Vampire Prince

Anna and the Vampire Prince

Jeanne C. Stein

Saving her family means saving the world.

Vampire Anna Strong should be enjoying life with her new husband, Frey, but she’s too devastated by the loss of her mother to focus on much else. That is, until her niece’s best friend is kidnapped, and Anna leaps into action.

Angry citizens blame the recent rash of kidnappings on France’s immigrant population and threaten retribution that could upset the economy of the entire nation. If Anna is going to save the girl and her family vineyard, she’ll need the help of one of the oldest vampires in existence—her good friend Vlad.

Vlad and Anna set out to solve the kidnappings and save Southern France, but they soon discover the stakes are higher than they imagined. If they fail, it could be the end of the world as they know it.

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement of the copyright of this work.

ANNA AND THE VAMPIRE PRINCE

Copyright © 2015 JEANNE C. STEIN

ISBN: 978-1-943576-57-9

All Romance eBooks, LLC Palm Harbor, Florida 34684
www.allromanceebooks.com

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever with out written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First All Romance eBooks publication: February 2015

I awake with a start. Below my bedroom window, indistinct chatter, male and female, floats up. It’s the work crew, awaiting instructions. Waiting for my dad. 

I listen for a moment, then roll over and do what I’ve done every day since Frey and John-John left. Reach out a hand to the empty space beside me in bed.

I’m still here in France. It’s been three weeks since Mom died. Two since Frey and John-John went back to Monument Valley. I know we’d agreed that John-John would go to school on the reservation so he wouldn’t lose touch with his roots—or his grandparents. That they’d spend summers and breaks in San Diego. But I miss them both more than I thought possible.

I stretch and yawn. I
could
go back to San Diego. Dad and Trish don’t really need me here. But neither do David and Tracey in San Diego. They’re running the business, and according to Tracey, it’s going as well as can be expected given the circumstances. She was madly in love with David, maybe still is, but he’s rekindled his relationship with the model/actress Gloria. Gloria. Once the bane of my existence. But I have to assume some responsibility for the rekindling. On the day I got married, in the glow of wedded bliss, I encouraged David to follow his heart. He did. Straight back to Gloria. Tracey says she’s getting over him and David has had the good grace to keep Gloria away from the office.

Still, it can’t be easy for Trish.

My father’s voice drifts up now, silencing the din from below, giving instructions to the work crew about what needs to be done in spring to protect the grape harvest. Today they’ll be going through the fields trellising, pruning, weeding. Looking for disease signs and for cane borer damage. Feeding, applying herbicides, checking irrigation systems.

Everything to assure a healthy growing cycle.

I smile. It’s amazing how much he’s learned in the short time he’s owned the vineyard.

His voice is firm, unwavering. When he’s finished with instructions, I know he’ll lead the crew to the fields. He’s been working with them every day since Mom died.

I glance at the bedside clock. Five AM. Trish won’t be up for another hour. I swing out of bed and reach for my robe. I’ll go downstairs and start breakfast. Be there to see her off to school. Give her a hug and let her know how much she is loved.

Nothing, though, can replace the hole left by my mother’s death. I hear Trish crying sometimes. I wish there was something I could do to ease the pain. But time is the only remedy.

For me, too. At some point, I have to leave. Get back to San Diego and jumpstart my own life.

But not today.

I’d be returning to an empty house. 

I pad downstairs, cinching my robe tighter around my waist. A vampire is impervious to temperature, but even I feel the chill of early morning in Provence on my bare feet. The morning sun has yet to spill its warmth over the vineyards and inch its way to the house. Dad has already started the coffee, so I pour myself a cup and take it outside.

The grounds on the estate are beautiful, lush. It’s been a wet spring and the early blooming iris and wildflowers are a colorful backdrop to the cherry and apple trees, alive with their pale pink and snow white sprays on slender branches. In the distance stretch the vineyards, now teeming with life as the workers make their way through the even rows of new growth on century old stock. Rebirth.

A concept not unfamiliar to the vampire.

It reminds me that I have an appointment with Vlad at noon. I haven’t fed since Frey left, and the hunger is beginning to gnaw. Vlad is taking me to a place where I can fulfill that hunger safely.

I turn back to the kitchen. I can fulfill Trish’s simple human hunger, too.

She likes pancakes.

That’s what I’ll make.

I’m early for my meeting with Vlad at a downtown café in Lorgues. It’s an open-air café I’ve visited often, with Frey while he was here, with Dad and Trish after visits to the teeming farmers market across the street. Now that spring is here, the transformation along the tree-lined streets is breathtaking. The once skeletal white trunks and branches are fully leafed, stretching a canopy of pale green from one side of the street to the other. Sunlight filters through the leaves, painting planters filled with hyacinths, poppies and the ubiquitous lavender a dappled golden hue.

I sip a cappuccino while I wait, pretending to be just another human basking in the warm afternoon sun. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, motionless—until the familiar growl of a Ducati brings a smile to my lips. The Harley was Vlad’s vehicle of choice until he crashed it on a mountain road in the dead of night. A friend convinced him the Ducati was more suited to his driving and temperament, he, like the bike, being headstrong and speed driven.

He’s still half a mile away, but I reach out with my thoughts.
You just can’t resist making an entrance, can you?

There’s no immediate response, but I can feel his amusement. Vlad is the oldest vampire I’ve ever met. Maybe the oldest vampire in existence, and his power is astounding. When I first met him, I felt it—what the old ones called
gravitas
. Now we’ve become friends. A fact that still amazes me.

The Ducati rumbles to a stop in front of the café. Vlad’s eyes are on me as he dismounts, but
he
has attracted the eyes of all the diners seated around me. He could be a model for
Vogue
. He’s not handsome. His features are all angles and squares—rugged, wild. He’s dressed in jeans and a red tee-shirt underneath a black leather bomber. Short leather boots and black riding gloves complete the picture. He’s the modern
Vogue
model. A bit unkempt. A bit untamed.

He’s running a hand through his dark hair as he approaches, smoothing it away from a sculpted face in a casual, completely unself-conscious manner. If I didn’t know him, I’d suspect it was an orchestrated move. But Vlad is the most unpretentious person I’ve ever met. I guess being on this Earth almost six hundred years has stripped him of whatever vanity mortals are burdened with.

Which explains his reaction to my comment. He is always amused when anyone accuses him of doing anything to attract attention to himself, in spite of his loud motorcycle.

He plants a kiss on my cheek and then sits opposite me at the table, gesturing to a waiter, to my cup and then to himself. The waiter nods and disappears inside.

“Making an entrance?” he says. “You know me better than that.”

I jab a thumb at his Ducati. “Then you’d better put a muffler on that thing.”

He laughs, clutching a hand to his chest. “And muzzle my beast?” He leans forward, smile disappearing. “How are you doing?”

I lift my shoulders. “Fine as can be expected. Mom’s death is hardest on Trish and Dad…” I let my words drop.

Vlad places a hand briefly over mine, then withdraws it as the waiter brings his cappuccino. We sip for a few minutes in silence. Then I ask, “Where are we going today?”

Vlad leans back in his chair. “A little place right outside of town. A chateau owned by a friend of mine. I let him know we were coming so he’ll be prepared.”

“You did tell him I want only the blood, right? Nothing else.”

Vlad nods. “Of course. I told him you were a newlywed and faithful to your vows.”

His words have a hint of amusement and something else. Mockery?

“Are you making fun of me?” I bristle.

“Of course not. You are a relatively new vampire.”

“Which means?”

“Which means you haven’t been around long enough yet to fully understand how different your life is from a mortal’s. Someday human values won't mean that much to you.”

I lower my head and pretend to focus on my cup, but really, I’m trying to digest what Vlad just said. “You mean values like honor, loyalty, respect. Commitment.” I raise my eyes to meet his. “I can’t imagine a time when I won’t hold human values important. I’m a little disappointed that you’d suggest I would.”

“I’ve offended you.” Vlad’s tone is abrupt. “I’m sorry. You may be the exception to the rule. I hope you are.”

“I thought you were, too,” I answer softly.

“Maybe. I know it wasn’t always so.” He drains his cup, reaches into his pocket and throws some Euros on the table. “Are you ready to go?”

I push away and stand up, glad to be done with this conversation. “Do you want to take my car?” I ask. “It’s just around the corner.”

But he’s already started toward his bike.
No. The bike is faster and I know where we’re going. 

He’s switched to communicating with me telepathically. I follow him to the street and wait until he’s mounted the bike to slip behind him. He’s revving the engine so I wrap my arms securely around his waist and press my face into the back of his jacket.

He guns the Ducati aggressively into the street, and if I hadn’t been prepared, I’d have been left bouncing on my ass in the middle of the road.

Over the thirty minutes it takes us to reach our destination, I try a couple of times to read his thoughts, but they’re locked down tight. So I give up and enjoy springtime in the countryside outside Lorgues. It’s rolling and lush with new spring growth. The fields of lavender haven’t started to bloom here yet, but the promise is there.

Vlad turns left off the main road onto what looks like a long, paved driveway. In a short while, we approach a house. In the way of the French, Vlad called it a chateau, but it’s really not much more than a cottage tucked under big shade trees on a lot dotted with flower gardens. We leave the bike on the driveway, and he leads the way to the front door.

It opens before either of us can knock.

A woman greets us with a smile. She grabs Vlad by the shoulders and gives him a peck on both cheeks before planting a lingering kiss on his lips.

When she finally lets him go, she turns sparkling eyes on me. “Bonjour. Bienvenue chez moi!”

“Better use English,” Vlad says with a laugh.
Or this.

“Je parle un peu le français, vous savez,” I tell him.
But very little so this is probably best. I’m Anna Strong,
I add, holding out my hand.

She takes it. “Amélie,” she responds.

Amélie gestures us inside. She’s tall and lean and has beautiful auburn hair. She’s dressed in a long silk tunic and is barefoot. Since she’s a vampire, I can’t guess how long she’s been on this Earth, but I’d guess her human age at turning to be thirty.

Thirty-one
, she corrects me.
And thank you for the compliment. Would you like some tea before you feed?

Vlad speaks up before I can respond.
No. We don’t have that much time. I have to get back.

That Marseilles business?
she asks.

Yes.

She makes clucking noises with her tongue.
I’m sorry.
She turns to me.
Right this way, ma chère.

Vlad calls to her as we leave the room. “Where is Alexander?”

“In the study. He’s expecting you.”

Amélie leads me to a room off the end of a long hallway. She swings open the door.
Take as much time as you need. Georges knows what to expect.

I wish that I did. It’s the first time I’ve been offered a host here in France. Back home, if Frey isn’t with me, I head for Beso de la Muerte where my friend Culebra is my provider. There are no surprises there. I don’t know when I’ll be heading back home, though, and the urge to feed is becoming paramount.