Page 17 of Blood Ties (City of Blood #1)

“Oh,” giggling, “it’s perfect. Better than before. He has more energy, there is no downtime, and he’s attentive and loving. It’s so much more than perfect. Update me when you find out about Bash.”

Now it’s my turn to blush. “I’m not sure we will get that far—everything is so confusing and it’s only been a little more than a week.”

“Make him work for it. You deserve the entire world, Elina, and Bash might be able to give it to you. Don’t let him put you in a different cage.

What you want matters the most, and you need to be willing to fight for it.

Don’t give in because you think you should, make sure it’s the right thing for you. ”

“Jacques St Germain may have been the first reported vampire in New Orleans, but it’s unlikely that is the whole story.

It is speculated that members of the Casa del Corvo di Sanguine were in New Orleans before and after St. Germain, and were even part of the Black Hand mafia in the city,” I say, having added a little extra vampire lore for the St. Germain house tour stop after my date.

“There is even a tomb specifically for displaced vampires in St Louis Cemetery #1, though it is closed to the public.”

Walking into the Velvet Tomb that night, knowing I will see Sebastien, I am both apprehensive, and a little excited.

Butterflies thrum chaotically in my belly.

I still haven’t decided what to do about Bash and his letter.

On one hand, I know how ludicrous it is that an almost 500 year old vampire prince seems to be falling in love with me after only 2 weeks and one date.

On the other hand, I know that I should not be intrigued by said vampire because he is heir to the wardenship of the prison I live in, and the monster in our collective psyche.

I decide to not bring up the letter or the date until I know what to do.

Eyeing the man in black walking into the bar with yet another stunningly beautiful woman is discomforting and unsettling.

The blond with him laughs happily, her laugh sounding like the quiet whisper of wind chimes during a slow breeze.

I feel more resolute than ever in my decision not to mention the letter or the date until I decide what I want to do about it.

“Hey guys, what can I get you?” I lean over and Bash takes a glance down my body. I can feel the flush rising up my chest under his gaze. He smirks slightly.

Their voices overlap as the beautiful girl on his arm purrs, “Just a glass of Prosecco, Elina,” as Bash says, “I’ll have a glass of red wine, Tesoro.

The nebbiolo was perfect, something like that.

” The blond giggles when he says the nickname he seems to have claimed for me.

I feel like the butt of a joke I am not in on.

Embarrassment stains my cheeks this time, as I turn away before Bash can say anything else.

Setting the drinks down in front of them, a bit forcefully, several minutes later, I dismissively tell them to let Sarah know if they need anything else. Before I can turn away, Bash lightly grabs my wrist.

“Elina, this is my cousin, Lessa. Lessa, this is Elina.” He waves a large hand between us.

I feel my cheeks heat for the umpteenth time today, my eyes moving between them as I take in the similar features and identical smiles, only her hazel eyes act as a contrast between them.

Of course, they are cousins. I wish a hole would open up behind the bar and swallow me up.

“Elina, I am so pleased to meet you. Bash talked about you from the minute he got home last night until sunrise. You’re gorgeous. Oh my, I can’t wait to get to know you and find out what has Bash so smitten!”

“Oh, hi,” I say shyly. I resist the urge to give Bash a scowl, though I can see the laughter in his eyes.

He knows exactly what happened. “It’s nice to meet you too.

” I practically flee to the bathroom to try and calm myself down.

I know I have made a giant fool of myself and can’t help but feel like I revealed more of my hand than I was ready to.

Hearing the restroom door open, I look behind me in the mirror and see Bash. “This is the women’s bathroom, Sebastien, though it doesn’t seem to have bothered you before so why would it now?” He is fully laughing now as he walks closer and folds me in a hug.

“Hi,” he says into my hair.

“Hi,” I breathe against his chest. He holds me like this a little longer before he lets go, exiting the bathroom as quietly as he came.

By the time I return to the bar, they’re gone.

On Tuesday, he comes to the bar alone. I’ve decided on how to address his letter—with one of my own.

After serving him his second whiskey, I slowly push an envelope across the bar to him.

He looks down at his name scrawled across the front, frowning a little, and puts it in the inner pocket of his coat.

He drops $100 on the bar for his $30 tab, and walks out without a word.

It’s as though he already knows what my letter says.

Later that night, the best crawfish etouffee I have ever tasted is delivered to the bar.