Chapter 1 : Part 5

Fanged & Fabulous
by Michelle Rowen

(Page 5 of 6)

I felt a rough tap on my shoulder and I turned around. A husky man wearing a dark blue ski jacket presented me with a fang-filled grin. "You Veronique?"

I stared at him blankly. "Not even remotely. Who are you?"

"I'm her ride to the airport."

There was a sudden change in the air and I knew without a doubt the woman in question had just entered the room. The scent of expensive perfume wafted under my nostrils. I'd been turned into a vampire exactly seven weeks ago and my sense of smell had been growing daily. This was sometimes a blessing and sometimes - depending on where in the city I was walking - not so much.

I turned to watch her glide through the club.

Veronique eyed the driver and her red lips curved up to the right. "If you could give me one moment to say good-bye to my friend I would greatly appreciate it."

He nodded, immediately intoxicated by the gorgeous woman with long raven hair, flawless skin, and remarkably white and sparkly fangs.

She glanced at the leaning tower of George and her eyes narrowed. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"I was . . . I was just going to . . . " he stammered, then gave me a stricken look. "Um . . . I'll go find Thierry." He scurried away.

Well, her charms didn't work on everyone.

But I liked Veronique. Actually I liked her a lot, but there was one big thing about her I wasn't terribly fond of.

She was Thierry's wife.

I had been assured that their marriage was in name only after more than six hundred years. Frankly, I couldn't imagine knowing somebody for thirty years, let alone six hundred. But I still wasn't thrilled with the situation. Dating a married man, even though the wife was fine and dandy with it, just seemed . . . extremely wrong.

I'd recently summoned enough courage to ask if she'd ever considered getting a divorce. Veronique had waved off my question with a laugh and said, "After so many years, why would I want something like that?"

Yeah. I'd managed to refrain from digging my fingernails into her perfect eyeballs. Barely.

So, as I said, I liked Veronique. But her recent decision to go back to her fabulous life in France wasn't the most heartbreaking news I'd heard all year.

She gave me a tight hug, followed by a brief kiss on each of my cheeks. "Au revoir." She leaned back. "Are you all right, my dear?"

I forced a smile. "I'm fine. Have a nice flight. Bye now."

"Are you quite certain? You look a little . . . malheureux."

"I failed French in high school. But I feel fine." I shrugged. Well, other than narrowly escaping death only hours ago, I thought. Again.

I looked over my shoulder. Where the hell was Thierry?

"I think I know what it is." A smile played at her perfectly outlined lips. "You are afraid to admit how much you will miss me. I understand. But the time that I was needed here has passed and yours has just begun."

My eyebrow perked up at that. Was she talking about Thierry? Maybe she'd given the divorce thing more thought. I shifted my feet, which now, instead of the Reeboks from my near-death jog, sported low-heeled, rubber-soled Tender Tootsies that looked okay with my black jeans. My trendier footwear was currently piled up at the back of my closet to make way for that which was consistently comfortable and easy to run in.

Proactive = Me.

Veronique reached into her tiny Fendi bag, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me.

"That is the number to my home in Paris. If you ever need to talk to someone, please don't hesitate to call me. I know things will soon be difficult for you."

I glanced at the card and then tucked it into the pocket of my jeans. "So you've heard about the hunters' special new interest in me, too? Wow, rumors sure spread quickly, don't they?"

Her forehead creased prettily. "No . . . though that is certainly cause for concern. I was referring to how distraught you will be when my Thierry leaves you."

"Huh?" My forehead creased less prettily, and I scanned the nearly empty club again. "What? He's leaving me? When did this happen?"

She shook her head. "No, not yet, my dear. I'm simply saying that when it does happen, please feel free to call me. I can dispense invaluable advice to help mend your broken heart."

My eyes widened with every word.

The driver approached her. "We should be leaving now to catch your flight, ma'am."

I just stared at Veronique. "Did Thierry say something to you? Is that why I can't find him tonight? Is he avoiding me?"

Copyright © 2007 by Michelle Rowen

About the Author

Michelle Rowen was born in Toronto, Ontario. As a child she decided that when she grew up she would become a flight attendant, a jewel thief, or a writer. One out of three ain't bad. She is a self-confessed bibliophile, the proud owner of an evil cat named Nikita, Reality TV junkie, and has an unhealthy relationship with all things Buffy the Vampire Slayer.