Blood Vine Read online

  “It was always like this. As thick as blood. I never thought I would taste it again.” He needed the good news. Again, hope tried to rear its head, daring him to embrace it. Was it truly the same wine? And would it help?

  Kos stared into his wine glass, probably wondering the same thing.

  “Should we try it?” Andre asked.

  “I really don’t want to spend the day vomiting.” Kos sniffed his wine, flicking his eyes over Andre’s thinning body. “But I’m willing to risk it if you are.”

  To Andre, it was worth a day of painful dry heaving to know for certain. “Let’s do it.”

  “Shall I take a picture, or something? To remember…if it works, I mean.”

  “Good God, no. Let’s just get it over with,” Andre replied, raising his glass. His only nod to sentiment was to add the traditional vampire toast. “To the homeland.”

  Kos lifted his in reply.

  The wine was cool and watery. Clenching, his throat revolted. But he fought back the urge to gag. It was the first time in ages he had swallowed something besides blood.

  Minutes passed, and when Kos spoke, Andre guessed he was trying to fill the silence.

  “What do you think the chances are it will cure us?”

  “Hell, I don’t know.” Andre pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his fatigued eyes for a second. “Nothing short of moving back to that Hunter-infested country will cure us, but maybe this will help. Anything is better than this slow death.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Kos took another sip.

  Was he as weak as Andre? Kos’s eyes, the same blue-gray as his mother’s, were sunk too deeply in his head. The bones of his shoulders were sharp under his button-down shirt. If he weren’t so fair-haired, he would probably see gray on his temples too.

  “You were a vampire for such a short time before the Hunters came,” Andre said. “Do you even remember how strong the wine made us?”

  “I remember, but I took it for granted. I was still growing stronger then. Every day I hoped I would fly.”

  The words were a lead weight in Andre’s empty gut. He would give anything he had to take Kos back to Croatia, so he could attain his full strength and eventually fly.

  “And,” Kos said in a playful tone, “I was feeding more often than was strictly necessary.” He flashed the smile all the Šoltan housemaids had loved. It had ensured he was always well fed.

  Andre couldn’t help but laugh at Kos’s attempt to lighten the mood.

  All at once, a warm energy built in his gut. It wasn’t just the heat of his belly laugh. It was like being sated by blood, but better. Pure well-being radiated through his body like a small sun, just as it had in the old days, when he drank the wine of his homeland.

  When the shock faded, Andre made his way to his office, checking barrels and the seals on wine bottles lining the brick wall of the cellar. Kos followed him in stunned silence. Andre sat down at his desk just as Lena knocked on the slightly ajar door and slipped in, giving him her toothy, eager-to-please smile. In spite of her undeniable beauty, he shied away.

  “You wanted to feed?” she asked.

  “Yes, thank you. Come over here.”

  She flushed pink at his command, and he tensed, annoyed.

  He sat down in a large armchair and patted his knee. “Sit down.”

  She obeyed, leaning her back against his chest. Brushing her hair off her neck, he smelled her—clean and young and healthy. He hated being so close to her. Her body was shapely, but he did not want her. Not like that, anyway. A few sips of wine had done little to satisfy his hunger, and he needed her blood.

  He tried to be friendly. “Were you picking lemons today?”

  In the corner of Andre’s vision, Kos turned away to examine a bookshelf.

  Lena squirmed on his lap and sighed. “Yes, can you really smell them on me?”

  “I can. What are you cooking with thyme and oregano?”

  “A tomato sauce. Pedro brought me a flat of heirloom tomatoes from the farmers’ market.”

  “Sounds delicious,” he said, though he could not recall what food tasted like. Lightly, he caressed the pulse in her neck with his thumb. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded.

  His tongue touched the sharp points of his canine teeth. Saliva pooled in anticipation of a meal, and he sank his fangs into the tender flesh of her neck. She wriggled again and sighed with pleasure. Hot and salty, her blood tasted as it should. It filled him and began to pulse through his veins, relieving the gnawing ache of hunger. But it would not last long.

  In spite of the beautiful woman, and the delicious blood, dark thoughts overtook him—feeding always reminded him that his exile was slowly killing him.

  As he took another long swallow from Lena’s vein, her hips began to rock a slow rhythm. She straddled one of his thighs, rubbing herself against him. Soon, Andre smelled the musk of her arousal and knew Kos would too.

  It was so damn annoying that she always got turned on. He wished he could flip a switch and turn her right back off, wished he could just feed without making her want him. But that was how feeding worked. Sex and blood went hand in hand, at least for a normal vampire, one who was not broken, like him.

  With one last draw on her neck, he retracted his fangs and licked the puncture wounds closed. He stilled her rocking with a firm grip on her hips.

  Lena made a whimpering complaint.

  “Thank you, Lena,” he said. “I depend on your generosity.”

  She stood and crossed her arms. “It’s my pleasure.” Her pretty features settled into a pout.

  Silly girl. He did not feel sorry for her. Straightening her clothes, she hurried out through the office door. He glanced at Kos and, as he expected, saw his son’s eyes dilated with desire.

  “You really pissed her off that time,” Kos said. “I’m sure you got her hopes up, with all the talk of cooking.”

  Andre rolled his eyes. “I’ve told you before, if you want her, she’s yours.”

  “Your castoffs aren’t tempting.” Kos sat down in the armchair across from Andre.

  “If you say so.”

  “And more importantly, I don’t think she’d take me. She wants you.”

  “I can’t give her what she wants.”

  “Still, she expected all the intimacies when she accepted this position. Feeding from her without sex is cruel, although I know it’s not your intention to hurt her.”

  What could he say? He just grunted. Kos always assumed the best of him. And he was right that Andre did not intend to hurt her. He just didn’t want her.

  He leaned his head against the high back of his armchair. No, he hadn’t wanted a woman since his last visit to San Francisco more than a year ago. He used to frequent the bars where he could find a woman who did not want him to be kind or gentle. On a vinyl covered stool under a dim light, he would order a bourbon, and smell the sweet amber liquid as the women approached him. What they saw when they looked at him was a mystery, but they always approached. He was not picky—just looking for a woman whose eyes were as empty as he felt, and he would leave with the first one he saw every single time.

  Andre would never use Lena or the other women in his household that way. It was his responsibility to protect them and provide for them. Throw sex in the mix and he would quickly feel like he had a handful of wives and all the accompanying annoyances. But even without sex, Lena was becoming a thorn in his side, and he would have to do something about her soon.

  Thudding footsteps in the cellar distracted Andre from his frustrating thoughts. Those were Pedro’s solid, human feet pounding the stone floor.

  The man pushed the door open without formality and began speaking. “The woman from Bennett PR will be here any minute. Her secretary just called.”

  The spy. She would be on Andre’s doorstep soon. He glanced around his shadowy cave of an office. It was where he felt safest. “Greet her out front and bring her here.”

  “Really?” Kos asked. �
�We could meet upstairs, in the daylight. Why did you bother installing the sun blocks if you spend all your time down here?”

  “No. Here.”

  “No problem, boss. Do you want me to show her your coffins too?” Pedro asked.

  His brilliant aquamarine eyes had that insubordinate glimmer, and Andre snorted in reply. There were no damn coffins, and he knew it.

  With a smug grin, Pedro left to welcome their visitor.

  Kos leaned forward over his knees, his voice quiet, although they were alone. “Do you plan to tell Pedro the whole story soon?”

  “Soon,” Andre replied. Kos’s worried frown reflected Andre’s own remorse. They had dragged Pedro into something larger than he understood. The smart-ass Spaniard had a way with grapes, and he had become like family since taking the job as Andre’s assistant winemaker. He deserved to know the truth.

  “I want to go on the record one last time to say this is a bad idea,” Kos said. “Bringing her here is practically inviting the Hunters to be houseguests.”

  A wave of fatigue washed over Andre. Lena’s blood was not strong enough to energize him for long. He slumped in the chair and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “She’s not a real Hunter,” he said. “Their women are only for breeding.”

  “That makes me feel so much better.” Kos leaned back and crossed his arms.

  “We’ll never reach the others without a public relations expert.” In hindsight, his idea that all the Croatian vampires go into deep hiding had been a tremendous mistake. Now, he had no way to find them with this possible cure. “I owe it to them, Kos.”

  “So we need help, but it doesn’t have to be from our enemy.”

  “Having her here affords us some protection. They won’t set fire to a house with their own inside.”

  “Are you sure? They don’t seem to mind slaughtering women and children.”

  No, he wasn’t sure. He rubbed his eyes. “Kos, we can’t flee. We drank the Šoltan vintage today. We drank. What if it makes us stronger?”

  “But we agreed—never again, after what happened on Šolta,” Kos said.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he saw kind old Magda, and that sweet maid, whom Kos had especially liked, beaten, used, and discarded on the front lawn. The blood curdled in Andre’s stomach. No, he could not let that happen again. He tried to shrug out the knots in his shoulders. The whole damn world was resting on them, and he felt every pound.

  “We will not let that happen again. But we need to see what they know first,” he said. “And maybe Bel can help us. Do you know how to reach him?” It was a sad state of affairs that Andre had no idea how to find his younger son.

  “Yes,” Kos said. “He’s got a satellite phone now. I’ll call him. But promise me this—if we’re in danger, we pack the whole household and we go. We forget about the wine.”

  His eyes flicked to the door. Outside, barrel after oak barrel of Croatian Zinfandel aged. To him, the possibility of a cure was the most important thing in the world. Almost. “Yes, you are right. We will not let anything happen to the household, Pedro included.”

  “If we have to go, it will be all right,” Kos said, a little too fervently. “We’ve planned for this. There’s plenty of money and a host of new identities. It won’t be like the last time we ran.”

  In spite of his attempt at reassurance, they both knew that all those barrels of the Šoltan vintage in the cellar made it exactly like last time. Andre’s gut knotted. They would lose all connection to their homeland once again. They would have to start all over…if they had the strength.

  “Kos, you’ve done good work preparing for this scenario. Thank you.”

  Surprise registered on Kos’s face for just an instant, and it saddened Andre. He should praise his son more. Kos had grown into a fine man over the last century, and his wise planning and investments had turned the estate’s modest profits into a substantial fortune.

  Chapter 4

  PEDRO BACKTRACKED THROUGH the dim, damp cellar on his way to greet the lady from Bennett PR. At the front door, he paused with a clammy hand on the knob. Like the entrance of a medieval castle, the huge door was rounded at its top and made of rough wooden planks. He puffed up, standing straight like a knight in Andre’s service. Ms. Porter was on the other side, bringing some mysterious Bennett-related trouble. No matter how much he liked Lucas Bennett, his loyalty was with Andre.

  Swinging open the door, he stepped into the bright, late-morning sun. The wet chill of the cellar burned off his skin in seconds, heating him to the bone. Or was it the thought of Lucas?

  When he scanned the drive, there was no sign of the Porter woman.

  She was probably friends with his yellow-eyed hottie. He’d only seen him that one time—strolling into the tasting room while Pedro manned the counter. His whisky-colored eyes were intriguing, so Pedro made a show of scanning his lean, powerful body.

  Lucas returned the look, and the flirtation began. “How long have you worked here?”

  “Oh, I don’t. Just helping today. I’m the assistant winemaker.”

  Dark brows arched over golden eyes. “Really? Well, you make amazing wine. It’s a favorite of mine.”

  A sincere compliment or a come-on? Pedro didn’t care. It made him warm all over. “Thanks. What do you do?”

  “I work in public relations. My brother has a firm.”

  That was good luck—Andre had a sudden need for PR help. “Have any wineries as clients?”

  “A few. Why?”

  He slid a legal pad across the bar, and tapped it with a pencil. “We need some PR. Give me the details, and I’ll pass them along to the winemaker.” With Lucas standing nearby, Pedro called Andre. “Hey, boss. I’ve got a lead for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Call Ethan Bennett at Bennett Public Relations. They might be a good fit for your branding project.”

  “Really?” The old guy sounded almost hopeful. “Give me the number. I’ll call right now.”

  Pedro read it off.

  When he ended the call, he found Lucas watching him.

  Lucas tipped the last taste of his wine down his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing before he said, “Did you study winemaking in California?”

  “No, in Argentina. I went to university there.”

  Lucas winked. “Me encanta Buenos Aires.”

  This guy made Pedro’s head spin and his knees weak, like he’d downed a whole bottle of wine himself. “Si? Yo tambien. Verdad, es un ciudad muy spectacular.” He poured a little more wine into the man’s glass, brushing his fingers where they held the stem.

  They shared their favorite spots in Argentina’s capital, restaurants and gay bars, even museums.

  “Well, I guess I should head back to the city,” Lucas said.

  Pedro reached across the counter and grabbed his wrist. “Not yet. I don’t get down to San Francisco nearly often enough for me to let you walk away.” When Lucas didn’t pull back, Pedro dragged him into the office. In one motion, Lucas closed the door and pushed him against it. Lucas’s kiss was hungry as he pushed his tongue deep in Pedro’s mouth. Pedro’s hands explored his muscled back. Lucas grew hard against his abdomen and pushed into him.

  A bell jingled as the door to the tasting room opened and what sounded like a group of tourists milled in. Pedro tensed, and Lucas broke the kiss.

  “Y’all open?” someone called out.

  Pedro stifled his irritation at the interruption and cracked the office door. “Just a minute.” Then he placed a more gentle kiss on Lucas’s mouth. “Wait?”

  Lucas shook his head. “I wish, but I’ve got to get back to the city.”

  Later that evening, when Pedro greeted Andre and Kos, they both bared their fangs and made a frightening, hissing growl. Pedro had never been scared of them before, but in that moment he nearly pissed himself.

  “Who have you been with?” Andre shouted the question.

  Pedro crossed his arms. “Excuse me?”

 
“You smell…like…someone,” Kos said.

  His slow, reasonable tone relaxed Pedro, and he grinned in spite of Andre’s hostility. “I met a guy.”

  “Clearly,” Andre said. “I can smell that he did not fuck you, but his scent is all over you. Who is he?”

  “Jesus, you can smell when I’ve had sex? That is too—”

  “Yes,” Andre said. “We can smell things you cannot even imagine.”

  Pedro looked at Kos, who nodded, confirming the words.

  “Now get to the point,” Andre said.

  “I met a man in the tasting—”

  “I knew it,” Kos said. “They found us.”

  Andre shook his head at Kos almost imperceptibly, but Pedro caught the gesture. What was going on?

  “Tell us about him,” said Andre.

  “Nice guy. Hot. Unusual yellow eyes.” Again the father and son exchanged glances. “I called you about his brother…Ethan Bennett.”

  “Davo,” Andre said.

  Uh oh. He only used that ancient half-Latin, half-Slavic curse on the devil when he was really pissed.

  Kos remained quiet, clearly concerned about whatever it was they were hiding.

  “Did you call him?” Pedro asked.

  “Worse. I hired him. He’s sending his vice president in a few weeks.”

  “Call him back,” Kos said. “Cancel.”

  In the silence that followed, Pedro could hear Andre’s teeth grinding, which was saying something, since he didn’t have vampire super hearing.

  Finally, Andre said, “No, this is for the best.”

  Pedro had waited for Andre to say more. Nothing. Man, he’d wanted to know what they weren’t telling him, but vampires had their secrets.

  Pedro squinted into the morning sun, waiting for the PR lady to arrive. He still didn’t know Andre’s secrets, but without a doubt, it was best not to pursue Lucas, even if he didn’t know why. His loyalty was with the Maras family no matter what.

  As he expected, Ethan found Lucas waiting in his office.

  “I just spoke to Stephen,” Lucas said.

  Ethan’s eyelid twitched. It was irksome that Lucas insisted on calling their father by his first name—a useless rebellion. “What did Father say?”