Sexiest Vampire Alive

“Right. Right, I knew that.” He grabbed her hands to keep her pink claws from ripping through his best suit. “What are you afraid of, then?”

Her bottom lip trembled against her fangs. “The sun will rise soon. I’m afraid of dying.”

“Sweetcakes, we die at every sunrise.”

“I mean real death! La mort finale!” She clutched his lapels with her fists. “I heard Corky’s show tonight. Live with the Undead. She said we’re all in grave danger!”

“You’ll be fine, Simone. You’ll be staying at Roman’s townhouse where we have guards to keep us safe.”

“Then Corky is right?” Simone shrieked and gave him a hard shake. “The mortal world knows about us now?”

He pried her bony fingers loose from his lapels. “Corky ought to know. She’s the one who posted the damned video.”

Three nights earlier, Corky Courrant had filmed the battle at Mount Rushmore that had climaxed with the death of her lover, the Malcontent leader, Casimir. While Gregori could understand why a woman might be a little miffed over the decapitation of her lover, he still thought Corky had severely overreacted. She’d posted the video on YouTube, claiming it was proof that vampires were real. That was an unforgivable, traitorous act in their world, and yet Corky was still employed at the Digital Vampire Network. Apparently her infamy was good for ratings.

Simone’s eyes filled with tears. “She said the mortals will hunt us down and slaughter us in our sleep!”

“Oh my God!” Pennington sprang to his feet. “Is that true?”

The boom operator glowered at him. “Don’t you watch the Nightly News? Stone Cauffyn said the secret is out, and it won’t be long before the mortals decide to kill us off.”

With a soft moan, Simone sank onto the carpet. Her tears, tinted with blood, left pink streaks down her gaunt cheeks. “La mort finale.”

“It’s the end for us all,” the cameraman grumbled.

“We’re doomed.” The makeup artist sniffed and wiped tears from her face.

“The Vampire Apocalypse,” Gordon muttered, then took another swig of Blissky.

Good God, no wonder the director and crew had jumped on that case of Blardonnay. “Get a grip, guys,” Gregori told them. “Just because Corky posted a video that looks like vampires getting their heads cut off and turning to dust, that doesn’t mean any mortals will believe it.”

“Right,” Gordon sneered. “Because mortals are always making home videos where they cut each other’s heads off.”

“If you look at the comments, a lot of people are calling it a hoax,” Gregori said.

“It only takes one mortal with one stake to do me in,” the boom operator mumbled.

“We’re doomed!” The makeup artist collapsed on the floor, clutching an empty bottle of Blardonnay. “Doomed!”

“No, we’re not! You guys got the official memo from Roman, right?” Gregori asked. Roman Draganesti was not only his boss and CEO of Romatech Industries, he was also Coven Master of East Coast Vampires. “He wants everyone to remain calm and go about your lives in a normal manner.”

“Yeah, we know.” Gordon upended his Blissky bottle, then scowled when he discovered it was empty. “That’s why we all showed up for work today.”

“We should be looking for some caves to hide in,” the cameraman grumbled, then his eyes lit up. “I know! We could hide in mausoleums.”

“Right.” The boom operator scoffed. “Mortals would never think about looking for us in a graveyard.”

“We’re doomed—”

“Enough!” Gregori interrupted the makeup artist. “Chillax, people. It’s going to be all right. Roman’s got a strategy meeting tonight with a bunch of Coven Masters.”

“Do they have a plan?” Pennington asked.

“I’m sure they’ll come up with something.” Gregori didn’t know much about the situation except that Roman and the head of MacKay Security and Investigation, Angus MacKay, had spent the last two nights discussing the matter with Sean Whelan—CIA operative, newly turned vampire, and Roman’s father-in-law. “The best thing for us to do is to behave normally and not bring any attention to ourselves. Just go to work, go home, drink your blood from bottles, and no one will ever suspect you’re a vampire.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Gordon grumbled. “You and your buddies have security guards to watch over you during the day. We do our death-sleep in apartments that mortals could break into.”

“We’re doomed!” the makeup girl cried.

Gregori loosened his tie as he considered. Corky’s damned video was probably inciting panic all over the vampire world. And the more the Vamps panicked, the bigger the chance that one of them would do something really stupid that made the problem even worse. They needed to feel safe.

He retrieved his smart phone from his jacket pocket. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll ask Angus MacKay to send a day guard here. We’ll turn the building into an emergency shelter. Then Vamps can do their death-sleep here, knowing they’ll be safe and protected.”

Gordon jumped to his feet and swayed a little. “Are you serious? You can do that?”

“Of course.” Gregori smiled. “I’ll make the arrangements, so hurry up and announce it on air.”

“Great!” Gordon dashed out of the studio.

The makeup artist eased to her feet and gave Gregori a shaky smile. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” Gregori selected Angus’s number on his Droid while the rest of the crew thanked him. “Let’s get ready for another try at the commercial, okay?”

“Yes, sir!” the boom operator shouted with a grin.

Pennington put on a new shirt, while the makeup girl applied new powder and lipstick to Simone.

Gregori breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they’d get the commercial done after all. Angus’s phone sent him to voice mail, so he left a short message explaining the need to turn DVN into an emergency shelter for frightened Vamps.

“Excuse me.”

Gregori glanced up from a quick look through his e-mail to see Pennington standing nearby. “Yes?”

“I’d like to thank you for keeping us all safe tonight.”

“Glad to help.”

Pennington shoved his long blond hair over his shoulders. “And I’d like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to star in a commercial.”

“No problem.” Gregori didn’t want to remind the model that he was the talent agency’s eighth choice, and he wouldn’t be here at all if Simone hadn’t sent the first seven guys packing.

Pennington sidled up closer. “What I mean is I’d like to thank you . . . personally.”

Yikes. Gregori stepped back. “No thanks. Sorry.”

“But you’re gay, right? I mean, you dress so well, and you were so nice and sensitive to . . . her.” Pennington wrinkled his nose at Simone.

“A straight guy can’t be nice?” Gregori muttered.

Simone snorted while the makeup girl brushed her hair. “Why do you continue with this charade, mon ami? You refused to have sex with me. You must be gay.”

His mouth dropped open. The crew started whispering, latching on to this tasty morsel of gossip. Shit. “Simone, have you been spreading rumors about me?”

“No, of course not.” She waved a hand dramatically. “I know how much you enjoy your reputation as a young playboy. But really, mon ami, you should stop acting so cowardly and admit the truth. You’ll feel much better for it.”

Cowardly? He reached into his pocket for a stress ball. Dammit, he’d left them all at the office.

It was true that he’d rejected Simone without giving her much of a reason, but it hadn’t seemed diplomatic at the time to be honest. He simply wasn’t attracted to her. And he wasn’t gung-ho over the prospect of being lover number five hundred and sixty-three. Simone actually kept count in her journal. Along with a rating from one to ten.