Page 61 of You’re So Vein

“Are you kidding?” Winnie stage whispers. “Best orgasm of your life.”

“Add that to the list of things I do not need to know.”

“Yes. Yes, you do.” Winnie’s eyes glaze over. “There’s something in their saliva. When they bite you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. I was afraid at first, but now I can’t get enough of it. Alaric says it will be even more euphoric if I become a vampire, which honestly is almost enough to convince me.”

“So, we’ve shot down two of your objections,” Maisie’s eyes sparkle as she sips her tea. “What’s number three?”

“He’s my rival for the mayor role. Four. Everything I say annoys him, and vice versa. Five. He’s pissed at me and he stomped off into the dark. Even if I did have feelings for him, which I definitely don’t—” then why is my heart roaring in my ears? “—it’s too late.”

“It’s not too late,” Dora says. “Go and talk to him. Don’t get into a snarky fight. Do not mention the campaign. Just talk. Find out what he’s feeling. Figure out what you’re feeling, and if there’s even something worth pursuing. All the other stuff can wait.”

“I think we should listen to Komal,” Beth says. “If she’s not hot for vampire, she shouldn’t try to force it—”

“Ssssh, Komal doesn’t know what she wants. Five years ago, she was flying helicopters for the RAF and engaged to that annoying dude, remember? And now she’s going to be the mayor of Argleton and save my job.” Maisie grins. “Just answer one question: Do you feel something for Augustin? A little spark?”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Beth snaps. “Komal?”

Five pairs of eyes fix on me.

Fuck.

“There might be a spark,” I mumble. “A teeny, tiny sparklet.”

“I knew it!” Isis screeches.

“But I don’t know if he—”

I’m saved by the sound of someone rattling the door handle of my tiny house. Maisie is closest, and she throws it open. “Reginald? What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to collect Miss Komal,” Reginald says, his usually jovial expression grave. “The Conclave representatives have woken from their dreamless sleep, and they demand your presence at Black Crag.”

By the time I roll out of Reginald’s car, my legs are jelly and I left the contents of my stomach somewhere back near the bridge. I lean against the cool castle stones until the world stops spinning. A major hangover pairs with Reginald’s wild driving as well as a fine wine pairs with Jaffa Cakes.

No, actually, maybe wine and Jaffa Cakes would be a good thing right now.

I’m about to see Augustin again. I have to deal with my swirling, complicated emotions and my swirling, alcohol-induced nausea. I run my fingers through my hair, wishing I’d had time to put myself together. I have to face three terrifying vampires and Augustin Durant without falling apart, because this is important. It’s for Winnie and Alaric. It’s for the future of vampire and human relations. If I can’t pull this off, then I don’t deserve to be mayor.

Why do they even want to see me? They made it clear at my launch party that they’re not interested in a human’s opinion of their affairs.

What will I do when I see Augustin again?

I presume he’ll be there. This is his project. He cares even more deeply about helping Alaric and Winnie and changing the laws than I do, probably because he’s a born bureaucrat and arguing over obscure ancient laws is his idea of foreplay.

Don’t think about foreplay with Augustin.

The last thing he said to me is that he can’t possibly be in love with me. His words have opened the wound Sam made, the wound that I’d thought closed over long ago. I need to see Augustin, talk to him. I know the moment his eyes meet mine, I’ll know if this sparklet between us is real and worth risking my heart to pursue, or if I’m merely attracted to him because my love language is confrontation.

When Reginald decides I look steady enough, he hurries me inside without his usual hospitality, leading me through the Stabby Chic hall, down a winding corridor and through cavernous reception halls (now empty of Alaric’s model trains and marble sculptures, thanks to Winnie) into the sitting room. Heat radiates from the fireplace. Alaric and Gideon stand beside it – Alaric with his hand on the hilt of his sword and Gideon with his flashy designer suit and an unusually grave expression. Irene reclines in Alaric’s chair, which displeases Mirabelle the cat, who is stalking the length of the mantlepiece, swiping at objects with her tail.

Dante sits in the chair opposite, fingers steepled together, the tiniest hint of a smile playing over his lips. Kael stands behind him, his hand on his sword, his long red hair spiked with lime wash and his face a thunderstorm that would definitely make it on the Argleton Weather Watch app.

Where’s Augustin?

I glance around and finally see him in the shadow of the hearth, his face hidden in the gloom.

He doesn’t even look at me.

Not a word, not a glance, not that polite, stiff nod he gives me at the start of council meetings, like he’s shoring up his defences before battle. It’s as if I’m not even in the room, as if I imagined the words that passed between us last night, his voice rasping with emotion, his eyes so earnest.