Alexander's Blood Bride: A Steamy BBW Vampire Romance (Vampires of London Book 1)

by Lorelei Moone

  "If anyone approaches you, you refer them to Jeremy or myself, you understand?"

  "Yes, ma'am," Cat mumbled under her breath.

  It wasn't a glamorous job, but at least she was here in the midst of all the action. For that, Cat was immensely grateful. She found herself a chair and placed it just so that she could look out through a gap in the curtain without being seen by the crowd which had just started to pour in. The only other people back here with her were the warehouse staff responsible for moving high value lots on and off the stage.

  The auction turnout was quite diverse; most of the people entering the room had dressed up for the occasion. Men wore suits and women wore dresses and ensembles that wouldn't look out of place on the Duchess of Cambridge. Then there were those who stood out a bit more; Cat spied ethnic clothes of all colors and descriptions, and also some people who seemingly didn't care at all what they wore. Apparently the latter seemed to think that jeans and t-shirts were an appropriate fashion choice for an event such as this.

  Cat idly wondered what Ms. Pryce would have to say about those people.

  Finally, as the seats in front of the podium began to fill up, someone walked in who made Cat's heart stop.

  Alexander.

  On his arm was a slender, elegantly dressed woman with strawberry blond hair. Her features and skin tone reminded Cat of a porcelain doll, similar to the type her grandmother used to collect when she was still alive. A pang of jealousy surged through Cat's chest. Fine, she'd left in a hurry that night, and ruined any chance she'd had with the man. But here he was with another woman by his side, and Cat could barely contain her rage.

  This makes no sense!

  Cat took a deep breath and tried to focus on the clipboard in her lap. With this unexpected arrival, Cat's job was going to become so much more difficult. How could she observe the entire crowd, when all her eyes seemed to want to do was stare at one particular person?

  She looked up to see where he'd sat down, and found that he was looking right in her direction. Could he see her? That was impossible, surely! She was well hidden behind this curtain.

  Cat blinked and saw that he'd looked away, making small talk with his female companion.

  Ugh, what a player!

  Just outside of Cat's range of view, someone—presumably the auctioneer—made a knocking sound.

  "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Sotheby's. You are here by invitation, since you are all valued clients of ours, so I think we can forego any explanations at this point. You all know how this works. We have an amazing selection of paintings, furniture, and numerous other objets d'art for you tonight. Without further ado, let's begin!"

  Cat took a deep breath. This was it. She couldn't afford to miss a moment of it.

  In a rush, she scribbled down the first lot number just as the auctioneer introduced it, and started scanning the crowd, pausing every time she hit the third row from the front, fourth person from the left. Alexander. Seeing him here brought back all sorts of memories she'd been trying to block.

  He had a certain aura, a presence that was impossible to ignore. All the regret she'd done her best to swallow came rushing back. If she hadn't left in such a rush, and their encounter had come to a more logical end, would he have remembered her? Did he remember her now? Perhaps she ought to find him later and say hello.

  Then again, he was here with somebody. If she approached him, that would just be sad on her part.

  She rubbed the bridge of her nose with the back of her pen and did her best to focus on the crowd again. Bidders 54 and 87 seemed to have a bit of a competition going. She noted down everything she saw, including the remark "this is personal."

  The next lots passed in much the same fashion. Cat did her best to control the urge to let her gaze linger on Alexander, who had stayed out of the bidding so far, even if the shock of seeing him again refused to subside. And she wrote down whatever she could about the active bidders, just like Ms. Pryce had told her to. Before she knew it, she'd filled sheet after sheet in scribbles.

  Her hand started to cramp—it had been an age since she'd written this much by hand—but she didn't miss a beat. Every lot, every bidder was carefully documented.

  An hour had passed, and the auction was coming to an end. From her earlier study of the catalog, she knew that there was only one lot left.

  And Alexander hadn't bid on a single item yet.

  "Next up, lot 66, mounted prints from an unknown book, circa 1500, let's start with the reserve—" Cat heard the auctioneer say.

  In the crowd, Alexander seemed to perk up in his chair. That was when Cat noticed the chair next to him was empty.

  Cat held her breath and gripped the pen so tightly her knuckles turned white. The ache in her wrist that had started to develop soon after the auction had begun had now turned to shooting pains going all the way up through her arm and shoulder. For but a moment, Alexander seemed to look in her direction again and she thought she could see it. The passion, the care with which he'd looked at her that night. It was like a stab in the heart, forcing her to avert her gaze and focus on his hands instead.

  Within moments, the bidding was underway. No matter who else lifted their paddle, almost a split second later, Alexander had his in the air. He was determined.

  Cat wondered what made this lot so special. Sure, she'd been fascinated by its description herself, but Alexander seemed willing to spend a fortune on it. The higher the bids went, the more intrigued she became.

  At the same time, a sense of great urgency filled her; this was the last lot. Once the auction ended, he would leave. The prospect hurt more than she expected it to.

  By the end, a few framed bits of old paper had gone for five times their reserve. With her heart still hammering away and a lump developing in her throat, Cat looked down to find that she had unknowingly filled an entire page with just observations about Alexander. Most had nothing to do with the auction. Damn. No way could she show all this to Ms. Pryce; she would think Cat had lost her mind.

  The auctioneer ended with some sort of announcement about payments. Cat didn't waste any more time and sprang into action. She had to see what was so special about that lot Alexander had bought. If only to feel some sort of closeness to him, to understand what made him tick.

  After catching a final glimpse of him, she headed deeper backstage to intercept that final lot on its way back into storage.

  Chapter Eleven

  Of course Alexander had known Catherine was there in the crowd somewhere from the moment he walked in. His sense of smell had never let him down before, and he'd recognize her special scent anywhere.

  Sure enough, he'd pinpointed her as soon as he sat down; she was right behind the curtain. He could even make out those pale green eyes of hers, looking back at him from the dark.

  He ought to feel triumphant; he'd finally achieved his goal of tracking her down. But as much as it pained him, he couldn't act on it. He couldn't afford to tip off Lucille, who for now seemed completely unaware of how close she was to giving Julius what, or who, he wanted.

  They'd ended up at the auction together not as a bonding exercise between siblings, no. This was an unfortunate coincidence. It was his first auction in months and he had a clear goal: to obtain that very special item he'd found in the catalog.

  Lucille was here because—well, he wasn't quite sure why. Just looking for a bargain, she'd said, which was odd, since Lucille didn't normally attend these types of events. Unsurprisingly, she hadn't bid on a single lot all night. And toward the end of the auction, she looked bored.

  "All this old tat, who needs it?" she grumbled.

  Alexander looked up from the catalog—only one lot remained until it was time for him to get in on the action. "It's almost over. If you don't see anything you fancy, why don't you head into the other room for some refreshments? I'll be right out after this," Alexander suggested.

  They shared a look. He hadn't meant the actual snacks and champagne next door, and she knew it
.

  "Very well. I don't know why you'd want to stay until the end anyway," Lucille said as she got up from her chair and elegantly navigated through the row of chairs toward the exit, attracting curious looks as she went.

  Alexander smiled to himself. This was her hunting technique. Lucille knew exactly how to use her talents to get what she wanted.

  She glanced down at a middle aged, slightly balding man at the end of the row and shot him a subtle smile. The man, confused for a second, regained his composure and got up as well, following Lucille out into the next room.

  Alexander shook his head. There goes another poor sod. Luckily for him, vampires didn't kill anymore, not for centuries, ever since the Council became established and laid down the rules in the Treaty of London, 1789.

  No, he'd be fine, eventually. At most he'd feel hungover, and wonder what might have happened in the inevitable gap Lucille would leave in his memory.

  With Lucille out of the room, Alexander could relax a little bit and focus on the task at hand. He had to get his hands on that final lot: what he presumed to be some missing pages from the Encyclopedia of Myth and Magick. The more he'd thought about it, the more certain he'd been. The illustrations and lettering were too similar for it to be a coincidence.

  Perhaps they'd contain nothing of use, perhaps they'd change his whole understanding of the situation with Catherine. Either way, he wanted them for his library. It was a matter of pride. And knowing that Catherine was here somewhere just strengthened his resolve further. It had to be a sign.

  The bidding was furious; clearly he wasn't the only one interested in some tattered pieces of paper from an old book most people would probably reject as pure fiction. But he knew better than that. And in the end, he was victorious.

  Who says money can't buy happiness , he thought with a wry grin on his face.

  If only everything else was equally simple.

  The auction was over, and the crowd started to leave. Only those with winning bids stayed behind to complete the necessary formalities. Alexander paid by check; he'd never gotten used to electronic transactions. The feel of the booklet in his hand, the sound of the perforated paper tearing—those little things made a purchase feel real in a way that making a phone call to a banker or pushing a piece of plastic into a machine could never do.

  As the young woman accepted his check and completed the necessary paperwork, Alexander grew increasingly restless. Catherine was here somewhere. As was Lucille.

  He wanted nothing more than to find and speak to her. Even if Catherine wanted nothing more to do with him, he yearned to be in her presence again.

  But if Lucille found out... That would be a disaster.

  He couldn't risk it. So as he waited for the receipt, he impatiently tapped his foot and scanned the room for any sign of his sister. She had to be done with that man by now. Had she caught Catherine's scent as well?

  While he stood here to finalize his shopping, disaster could be unfolding somewhere behind the scenes.

  Just as the woman behind the counter handed him his newly printed bill, he felt a presence right behind him.

  "What did you buy?" Lucille asked.

  Alexander folded the paper in half, then again in half and put it into the inner pocket of his jacket.

  "Just some prints," he said, smiling at Lucille to cover his nerves.

  The latter squinted suspiciously. "Prints?"

  It wasn't a lie, technically. The pages had been printed, and mounted as though they were in fact works of art. Alexander nodded and smiled again. "I think they'll go very nicely in the library."

  "How much art does one man need?" Lucille scoffed.

  At least she seemed satisfied for now; she was still licking her lips after her earlier human snack.

  "How were the refreshments?" Alexander steered the conversation away from his purchase.

  Lucille sighed. "Oh, quite satisfactory. I was hungrier than I thought."

  Alexander chuckled. "It was written all over your face."

  Lucille placed her arm inside the crook of his as they walked toward the exit. With every passing step, he felt Catherine's presence less keenly. Alexander turned around one last time just as they passed through the set of double doors into the reception hall. He didn't know what to feel: relief or heartache.

  It turned out to be a heavy dose of both.

  "Anything wrong?" Lucille asked.

  Alexander shook his head. "No, all fine. I think I might have overpaid for those prints."

  Lucille laughed. "Swept up in auction fever. With the years of practice you've had, I thought you'd be better than that."

  Alexander shrugged. "It can happen to the best of us."

  As they walked through the crowds of humans on the way out, more than a few heads turned in their direction. Men, as well as women. Such was the attraction of the vampire. Some humans were drawn to them like moths who had no idea how close they came to being burned to death.

  Nobody ever sensed the danger until it was too late. Except Catherine. She'd figured it out. Sadly, her keen sense of observation might have plunged her into more danger than she could imagine.

  "Now what?" Alexander asked.

  He hoped she would go her own way, so that he could do the same. What if she wanted to linger, though? What if Catherine walked in here to join the crowds of auction-goers, and Lucille picked up her scent? Then what?

  Could Alexander choose Catherine over his sister? He'd try his best to avoid that scenario. But if it came down to it, he supposed that he could.

  "Council work, you know." Lucille brushed away his question.

  Alexander nodded. With a bit of luck, he wouldn't have to make that difficult choice. Not today.

  "I'll walk with you," Alexander suggested.

  Lucille agreed with a nod as they passed into the darkness outside.

  "How goes the hunt?" he asked, once they were out of earshot of the other humans leaving the auction house.

  She shrugged. "Nobody seems to know this woman."

  "Yes, I noticed the same," Alexander said.

  "But our dear maker isn't one to give up easy, as you well know."

  "Julius is a great many things, but he's not a quitter," Alexander said bitterly. And therein lay the problem.

  They walked on in silence, further and further away from Catherine's last known location. How glad he was that he'd been able to avoid any confrontation at the auction.

  Alexander didn't even notice how far they'd walked when they came to a stop in front of a rundown building somewhere in the middle of Chinatown.

  "Well, this is me," Lucille said.

  Alexander glanced up at the unassuming façade. Humans would walk by here and ignore this place, but he knew better. It was one of the bigger lodging houses for young vampires; in the olden days, one might have called it a coven house.

  "I thought you had better taste than this, sister," Alexander remarked.

  Lucille let out a chuckle. "I don't live here, silly! Just doing the rounds, making inquiries... Perhaps someone in here has come across that woman. Perhaps I can convince some of them to join the search."

  Alexander looked up at the boarded up windows on the upper floors. There was no way of knowing how many newly turned immortals lurked behind these walls. The Council truly had an army at their disposal.

  He shrugged. "Well, best of luck in your efforts. I'll head back myself."

  "I'll see you around," Lucille said.

  Her tone was innocuous, but to Alexander's ears, her goodbye had sounded more like a threat.

  "Yes, see you," he responded.

  As he turned, he heard Lucille's footsteps climb up the front steps to enter the building. He started walking leisurely, but as soon as he turned the corner, he broke into a sprint. What were the chances of Catherine still being there, at Sotheby's?

  Slim, probably. Still, he owed it to her as well as himself to try to intercept her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cat cou
ldn't believe what she'd just seen.

  Even after the warehouse workers had taken the final lot of tonight's auction away, Cat still stood frozen in place, right in front of the heavy duty elevator.

  Although they were hard to read, some of the passages on those framed pages had been pretty damning. They mentioned the so-called undead. Vampires. There were even illustrations to go with the text that looked unlike anything she'd seen before.

  She didn't believe in stuff like that, or did she?

  Cat remembered the old portrait that seemed to feature Alexander. That could have been a funny coincidence, or a very clever reproduction piece that looked a lot older than it really was.

  She recalled the dream she had of him later that very night; the details of what exactly happened had been fuzzy, unclear, but it all came to her as soon as she read those pages. Somehow, her subconscious had already figured out what he was. Then there were those two funny marks she'd seen on Shelly's neck. Had she just imagined all of this stuff?

  Her mind tried to rationalize everything, to convince her that the supernatural didn't exist, even if all the evidence pointed toward it.

  And he'd been here. He'd bought this very item without bidding on anything else, which could potentially explain everything! Was that a coincidence too?

  All around, people were rushing back and forth, finishing up for the night. Cat forced herself into action to do the same.

  She grabbed the clipboard with her notes, as well as her handbag, and made a beeline for the exit. At home, she'd talk to Shelly and realize that probably she was just stressed out and all of it was messing with her head. Yes, that had to be it. Better sense had to prevail.

  Nobody seemed to pay much attention to her as she left. Even the streets were unusually quiet on her way.

  Still, once she found herself in a near-empty tube station, waiting for the next train, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

  Again.

  She'd felt the same after her first day last week, when Shelly had dragged her to the pub.

  Perhaps this was what it felt like to lose your mind?