Page 11 of Blood Lovers

So I lie down next to her, and I hold her hand, and close my eyes, and I call up the purple fog so I can dreamwalk my way into her mind for one last goodbye.

CHAPTER FOUR - PAUL

I live for him.

The Saint Laurent compound is almost a small town. My seven hundred and ninety-three acres of paradise hold twenty-four buildings that comprise seventy-three bedrooms, fifty-one bathrooms, seventeen kitchens, three heated pools, four hot tubs, five fully-stocked bars—with attached game rooms—and a standalone library of sorts.

In addition, there are two small lakes, three streams, and a much larger lake that is suitable for boating.

In the summer I can make the drive from Twin Bridges in under three hours.

On New Year’s Eve, it takes me four.

But as soon as I arrive onto my land and pass through the first of two giant head-gates every road is cleared of snow because every road is heated by an elaborate geothermal grid below the ground. So the last few miles are rather pleasant.

It’s nearly midnight, and this seems both poetic and appropriate for the death of my feeder.

My last feeder.

I will not run out of blood. That’s not the problem with what’s happening tonight. The problem is Lucia’s response—or lack of one, as it may be.

The party on my compound shouldn’t be happening. Most of Montana is impassable in the winter. The only reason there is a road to Saint Laurent is because I built it. But a place of this size requires staff. Quite a lot of staff, actually. But not a staff of hundreds, and there are definitely hundreds of people here tonight.

I’m agitated when I get out of the Jeep. There isn’t even a valet to receive me. Not that I informed anyone that I was coming, but I have made my expectations clear. They are to carry on with their duties when I’m not here the same they would if I were.

And this party is not something I would allow.

I am not overly heavy handed with the halfbreeds, and there is no class or instruction manual to explain my expectations to them—but isn’t this one common sense? I mean, it’s my home and they are throwing a party.

Feels… disrespectful.

Halfbreeds are an interesting addition to the vampire lore. In the human world halfbreeds would be something half-human, half-vampire. But of course, they got this wrong too. A halfbreed has been poisoned with the vampire blood through a bite from me, or Lucia, or Josep.

Well, not Josep. And not really me, either.

But it doesn’t make them vampires. It just makes them slaves. They need more blood after that. From us mostly, but a feeder works in a less potent way as well. But we don’t hand this blood out liberally.

The halfbreeds don’t get a long life—in fact their lifespan is considerably shorter than one of a human who has not been poisoned. But they do heal quickly when they are first made and, after a period of years and feedings off of us—well, Lucia, mostly—they do gain a little bit of magic. A little bit of strength, a little bit of second sight, and excellent hearing. Not to mention secrets. They get to walk this world with more knowledge of the obscure and strange than most.

It’s a horrible deal if you ask me, but humans. Who can explain them?

I’m just about to swing open the front doors of the lodge when they come bursting out towards me. There is a moment when I think, Finally. My welcome.

But it’s a half-naked couple of humans—humans I have never seen before, so are not my staff—who nearly knock me down as they push past, laughing and carrying on like drunkards.

I push on.

The music is thumping, the beat rocking the floors. A girl bumps into me, spilling her drink on my pant leg. I open my mouth and growl at her, baring teeth.

She giggles uncontrollably, stumbling away from me in a fit of laughter.

The rage inside me builds, raising my already too-high body temperature, and I look around, searching for a familiar face.

I have to travel through five rooms and pass several dozen people before I finally find one. A lowly female halfbreed who was so fresh when I last saw her, she tried to chew her way into the neck of the feeder.

Now her mouth is covered in blood. Like she has been feasting.

Once I see her, I see others. There is a group of them spilling out of the industrial kitchen.