Allure of the Vampire King: A paranormal romance (Blood Fire Saga Book 1)

by Bella Klaus

  Despite the rousing speech I gave myself over breakfast, I opened up the shop, my stomach queasy with the stirrings of dread. Jonathan had a sound bath booked just before lunch, and he would almost certainly ask me out.

  This new Mera I resolved to be—the one who took up opportunities for relationships—it didn’t extend to Jonathan, right? I had a feeling that one date with the guy would lead to constant requests for more.

  I stepped into the store and unlocked the cash register, only for a delivery man to arrive shortly after with a large box. The description on the packing slip said it was quartz crystals, but I wasn’t about to take any chances.

  This time, I slipped on a white coat, a pair of goggles, and magic-proof gloves. If any enchanted objects were lurking within the depths of this delivery, I’d be ready for it with a pair of diamond shears.

  I scored through the tape enclosing the large package with a box cutter, and pulled back the cardboard flaps, exposing clusters of clear quartz.

  Each lay nestled within thick cardboard dividers, their prisms radiating a healing power. Quartz was the master crystal, the stone that amplified meditation, enhanced the abilities of other crystals, and boosted the powers of witches who used their magic to heal.

  For people like Istabelle and me who had no magical power of our own, quartz helped to focus our ability to sense the power in others.

  Someone tapped on the window. I glanced up to find a pair of girls standing outside peering through the display. I smiled at them and waved them inside.

  They were in their late teens, dressed in thick coats and jeans, looking as fresh-faced as I did when I first fell for he-who-I-would-never-name.

  “I heard you can do love spells,” said the taller of the pair, a redhead with hair a few shades lighter than mine.

  “We can put together a few crystals to help you attract the love of your life,” I replied with a smile. “Is that what you’re looking for?”

  She shook her head and nudged her friend, a plump mousy-haired girl, who nudged her back. “We’ve got a lock of a guy’s hair. Could you do something with it?”

  I replaced the flaps on the box and pulled off my goggles. Every so often, a customer came in looking for potions or hexes or some other kind of spell.

  While humans might be able to offer such services to each other, the Supernatural Council forbade us from selling magical constructs—real or fake—to humans.

  It didn’t matter that we couldn’t perform such enchantments. The fact that we knew the Supernatural World existed meant that none of our actions, either by word or deed, could inform humans that magic was real.

  “Sorry, girls,” I said. “That sort of thing isn’t what we do.”

  Their faces fell, and the redhead stuffed her hands into her pockets. “Is there something I can put in his drink, then?”

  I counted to three before answering—only because of this morning’s conversation with Beatrice, who had entered into what she had hoped was a relationship under false pretenses.

  If Christian had told her outright that he wanted a week of sex with no attachments, Beatrice would probably have swiped past him on the dating app.

  “What would you say if I told you a man wanted me to sell him something to put in a girl’s drink, so she would fall in love with him?” I asked.

  They exchanged horrified glances. “You can’t do that to another woman.”

  “Exactly.” I clasped my hands behind my back, hoping the pair would put what they wanted to do in context.

  Love spells did exist, as did substances that could increase a person’s sexual desire, but the Supernatural Council frowned on interfering with the free will of others, and the penalty for that was death.

  The only beings who could get away with driving people into a frenzy of lust were demons like incubi and succubi, as they fed on sexual energy. Vampires, to a lesser extent, were immune from that edict because their saliva contained traces of a venom called thrall that drove weaker supernaturals wild with lust.

  Jonathan walked into the store two hours early for his appointment and clad in a camel-colored duffle coat the exact style of Paddington Bear’s. He strolled to the book corner with his hands behind his back and perused the titles.

  I snatched my gaze away from him and turned back to the girls. “Can I tempt you with some rose quartz hearts?” I swept my arm to the left, where we kept the rose quartz. “We also have them in balls and wands and obelisks.”

  The redhead shook her head but walked in the direction of the quartz crystals. “Thanks, anyway.”

  I watched her leave, hoping she would change her mind about forcing the poor guy to fall in love.

  “Hi, Mera.” Jonathan raised his palm.

  “What can I help you with today?” I asked.

  He glanced down at the floor, then back into my eyes, and smiled. His pale blue eyes flickered down to my lips, making me stiffen.

  Something about him was off, but I couldn’t explain what. He didn’t contain an inkling of magic, but the way he stared at me sometimes seemed to look beneath the surface and into my soul.

  It was like he had a magnet inside him that forced him to continue coming for a sound bath he didn’t want and ask for a date he knew I would refuse.

  “Jonathan?” I asked.

  He licked his pale lips. They were thin, much like his long nose and the rest of his face. If I had to describe him as a cartoon character, he would be Shaggy from Scooby-Doo. Not unattractive, but not the guy who incited a girl’s lust.

  “I was wondering if you’d like to—”

  “Mr. Drake,” Istabelle’s voice rang out through the shop. “Are you bothering my lovely apprentice again?”

  Pink—not red—bloomed across Jonathan’s cheeks. That wasn’t to say he was cold-blooded, but nothing about him, from the shade of his blond hair to the permanently forlorn expression, implied he had any heat.

  “Mrs. Bonham-Sackville,” he stuttered. “I’m not… I would never… I have the utmost respect for Miss Griffin and wouldn’t dare to—”

  Istabelle raised her palm and smiled. “You have an appointment later today, yes?”

  “Eleven-thirty, yes,” he replied.

  “Do you need to reschedule?”

  Jonathan flinched. “What?”

  “I’m trying to ascertain if your employer has scheduled another stocktake,” Istabelle said in a louder voice.

  The two girls from earlier giggled. I glanced from Jonathan to Istabelle, wondering why she’d chosen today to confront him. He had come here last week to reschedule. Did she suspect that this was his new ploy to come into the store and see more of me?

  Jonathan stammered out something indecipherable, ending with, “See you in a bit, then.”

  He scampered to the door, eased it open, and snuck out like a ghost.

  As soon as he disappeared into Upper Brook Street, I turned to Istabelle with my brows furrowed. “What was that about?”

  “I was in treatment room number two during your last session. He’s not interested in sound baths, is he?”

  “How did you—”

  “Who on earth would disrupt the healing vibrations with constant chatter?” She shook her head and chuckled. “A word of advice, my dear. Unwanted suitors can block the heart chakra just as much as devastating heartbreaks. If you want to attract new love in your life, throw away the old.”

  I sucked in a deep breath through my teeth. It was as though Istabelle had read my intentions for the morning and was parroting them back at me. Perhaps she could sense my resolve to do better in my energy.

  “You’re right,” I said. “Would it be okay to refuse to perform sessions with him?”

  Istabelle smiled, her gray eyes shining with pride. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask. One of these days, you’ll learn—”

  Her face froze as though she’d seen something startling through the window.

  That was about when I felt the curl of smoky magic around my senses. Unlike last
week, when that magic had felt like a noose around my neck, this smoke was nearly four times as powerful and felt more sensual than a caress.

  As I turned, I caught sight of the two girls standing by the quartz crystals. The one facing the window also froze and grabbed her friend’s arm. Curiosity stirred through my insides, and I spun toward the window.

  Standing outside was a man about six-foot-two, with a strong build and broad shoulders. He wore a blue suit so dark that it appeared nearly black, with a navy shirt that curled around his prominent pectoral muscles.

  The man seemed preoccupied with a tall amethyst geode that obscured his face and the top half of his athletic body, but the gaps in the display gave me a tantalizing glimpse of a corded neck, thick biceps, and muscled legs beneath slim-fitting pants.

  The long-dead butterflies in my stomach fluttered back to life. I couldn’t see his face, but even after three years, nobody could mistake that exact shade of bronze skin. A reddish-brown that looked like it had been warmed in the fires of sin.

  I shook my head from side to side. It couldn’t be him. It could be any one of his four brothers—Constantine, Sylvester, Ferdinand, or Lazarus, or any of the vampire nobles he was related to by blood.

  After what he said to me that evening on the palace steps, he would never track me down to an obscure crystal shop in London.

  He stepped away from behind the geode, and his violet eyes looked into mine with an intensity that hit me harder than a slap.

  Valentine Bloody Sargon was about to walk into my life.

  The Vampire King who had broken my heart.

  Chapter Four

  I leaned back on the counter, trying to catch my breath as Valentine opened the door and sauntered inside. Those wretched eyes of his glinted like he was looking at his next meal.

  My insides trembled. Neutrals like me were supposed to have the most delicious blood.

  It was like being caught in the gaze of a panther or some other apex predator with the gait and grace of a dangerous feline.

  My heart pounded hard enough to burst, making my ribs reverberate with every frantic beat. Valentine didn’t walk—he stalked. Right now, I was his prey.

  Tall, dark, muscular, and sleek—he looked the same as he did in my dreams. Dreams that I would try to suppress with amethyst geodes and Native American snares. Dreams that would make me awaken with a quickening heart. Dreams that would haunt me through the days and half the night.

  I’d resigned myself to Valentine Sargon being a ghost of loves past, a specter that I could escape if only I strengthened my mind and rebuilt my shattered heart.

  Yet when he walked into the store, seeming to fill the air with his intoxicating, masculine scent, he was as real as the worst waking nightmare.

  Istabelle swooped past in a puff of lavender perfume. “Welcome to my crystal shop. How may I be of service?”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Bonham-Sackville,” Valentine said in a deep voice that resonated with every nerve, including the sensitive bundle between my legs that had awoken the moment he walked into the store.

  Heat surged through my veins, coalescing in a traitorous part of me that pounded in time with my fluttering heart. I breathed hard, trying to force the sensations somewhere else, but it was impossible to concentrate with him taking up all the space.

  His dark gaze lingered on mine, and the corners of his lips curved upward. “May I speak with your assistant?”

  I sucked in a breath through my teeth, and the pounding of my heart quickened to the beat of a battle drum. How did he know Istabelle’s name? Had he known all this time where I’d gone or just recently tracked me down to the Crystal Shop?

  “Mrs. Bonham-Sackville’s assistant is busy,” I snapped, making the girls in the corner clap their hands to their chests and gasp.

  Valentine turned to them and grinned, revealing perfect white teeth. I knew exactly how those girls were feeling—awed at the sight of such a breathtaking male. He was the reason why I found even the most attractive human men so unexciting.

  Vampires weren’t just physically perfect, they exuded a raw sensuality that bewitched all reason and ensnared a person’s heart. But they were vain, loathsome creatures who basked in the power they held over others and had no qualms about toying with people’s emotion the way a cat would toy with a floundering bird.

  The girls huddled together and giggled, not seeming aware of how dangerous the beautiful predator was in their midst.

  I pressed my lips into a tight line. Valentine was probably soaking up their adoration the way he had basked in mine when I was too young and inexperienced to know better.

  “Go home,” he said in a hypnotic voice that sent a palpitation of desire through my heart.

  I clenched my teeth, holding back a torrent of rage. Rage at myself for reacting to Valentine and rage at him for using his infernal wiles.

  As though in a trance, the pair put the rose quartz crystals back in the baskets and drifted to the exit. A large man wearing black opened the shop’s door, letting them out, and blocked the shop like a sentinel.

  “Mesmerism on humans?” I snarled. “Disturbing a place of business with your guards? Whatever will the Supernatural Council say?”

  Valentine turned his violet gaze back to mine. “Morata.”

  I flinched. “You have no right to call me that.”

  Morata was short for Inamorata—what he called me during what I thought was our courtship. It meant lover in Italian and was the title of a Dean Martin song he loved to play whenever we danced.

  My heart raced like a feral beast caged within my ribs. I tore my gaze away from the monster’s eyes and focused on the beauty spot on his left cheekbone. He had a bloody nerve to even stand within ten miles of me after what he did, let alone dredge up that term of endearment.

  “Your Majesty.” Istabelle dipped into a deep curtsey. “Allow me to give you a tour of my humble establishment.”

  Valentine’s gaze left mine, and he offered Istabelle a gracious smile. With those violet eyes no longer attempting to hold me captive, I could finally exhale. Istabelle knew how much heartbreak I’d suffered in the first year of my apprenticeship—she’d helped me through the worst of it with healing sessions.

  She’d never mentioned being acquainted with the King of the Vampires, and she would have hinted something over the years if they were in communication. This was probably her way of buying me time so I could calm myself before confronting Valentine.

  I walked around the counter, tamping down my suspicions. Valentine must have found me through one of the many enforcers who monitored the Natural World for illegal supernatural activity. They weren’t friends or acquaintances or anything else.

  Istabelle was over a century old, and Valentine had ruled the vampires for five hundred years. Of course, she’d recognize him. Valentine was a member of the Supernatural Council and one of the seven most powerful magical beings who ruled Logris.

  He was also very hard to forget.

  Istabelle guided him to the front of the store, where she kept the most beautiful crystals set into precious metals to form jewelry. I tore my gaze away from them and focused on the box of quartz clusters still lying on the counter.

  Sweat dampened my hands and beaded on my brow. My every instinct screamed at me to bolt through the door, jump on the back of a red double-decker, and disappear, but it wouldn’t work.

  Running would only trigger Valentine’s hunting instincts, then I’d be trapped. Trapped in those strong, muscular arms, trapped in that mesmerizing gaze, trapped into doing whatever he desired.

  I slipped my trembling fingers into the magic-proof gloves, put on my goggles, and opened up the box.

  Instead of being the serene representatives of purity, the quartz clusters seemed too angular, too sharp, too kaleidoscopic.

  Staring at them too long could pull me into meditation or an unwanted memory. Touching them—even with gloves—amplified the pain and resentment and humiliation that still lingered
in my soul from how things ended with Valentine. I closed the flaps and eavesdropped on their murmured conversation.

  Istabelle held a huge block of gray moonstone, a crystal we sometimes recommended for those with lingering grief.

  I swallowed hard, hoping she was just talking about crystals in general and not reporting my progress to him in code.

  With the cold, cruel words he had hurled at me across the steps of his palace, Valentine made it abundantly clear that he wanted me out of Logris and out of his life. Why would he follow up on me?

  They moved on to the selection of herbs next, and Istabelle chatted to him about her selection of herbal teas. By now, the pounding of my heart had faded to a dull ache, and my insides burned with curiosity.

  Valentine glanced at me over his broad shoulder, making my pulse quicken. The corner of his mouth curled into a smile, and my veins filled with angry, prickly heat.

  He’d heard my heart with his enhanced vampire ears and probably thought I was excited. Hadn’t it occurred to him that pulses also rose due to fight or flight?

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bonham-Sackville.” Valentine took Istabelle’s hand and brought it to his lips.

  Istabelle lowered her lashes, and a faint blush darkened her pale features. I couldn’t blame the woman.

  Valentine had an advantage over even the most beautiful of vampires. His power and charm and title were enough to stir anyone to passion, but all he stirred in me was fury.

  “Would you like to see our book corner?” she asked.

  “Perhaps later,” he said with a smile that had her swaying on her feet.

  “Then I will take my leave.” Istabelle retreated to the far end of the shop, placing a trembling hand on her flushed cheek.

  Valentine inclined his head and turned to me with an arrogant smirk. “You seem distracted. I thought you would have finished unpacking your delivery by now.”

  “It’s hard to concentrate with an unholy presence in the shop,” I snapped. “What do you want?”

  His brows rose. “Is that any way to speak to a customer?”

  “Don’t tell me you traveled all the way from Logris to buy a crystal.”