Page 6 of Vampires and Violas (A Vampire’s Guide to Gardening #2)

5

Noah has been living with me for a week. We’re in a weird place right now, stuck between friends, almost-exes, and landlady and her tenant. We’ve been friendly—sometimes walking the line of too friendly—but for the most part, we’ve given each other space.

Most of the time, his nose is buried in his laptop, and I’m taking advantage of the long days in the garden.

But my mind isn’t on Noah right now. It’s on the imminent invasion of pre-vamps and their conservator babysitters.

“You made punch,” I say to Cassian flatly, eyeing the iced citrus and berry concoction on the counter.

“Sparkling raspberry lemonade,” the vampire corrects. “I found the recipe online. Have you ever seen any of those food blogs?”

“I’ve heard of them,” I say wryly.

“I had to scroll for an hour to find the recipe.”

“Where was my grandma’s punch bowl? I haven’t seen it for at least fifteen years.”

“It was in that cabinet next to a yogurt maker.”

I don’t remember my grandmother making yogurt even once.

I watch Cassian fuss with the ice cube tray for a while before I say, “Why are you going to all this trouble?”

“I just want you and your friends to have a nice evening.”

“The people in the support group are not my friends.”

“And they won’t ever be with that attitude.” The stupidly handsome vampire turns, smirking down at me, and boops me on the nose.

“You’re acting a little more eccentric than usual. Did you forget to take one of your prescriptions?”

“I did yesterday,” he admits. “But I’m fine today.”

“And you’ve remembered your blood?”

“I’m working my way through an Alaskan sampler. I had moose this afternoon.” He shoots me an amused look. “Shouldn’t I be asking you these questions?”

“I’m not the one freezing mint leaves and raspberries in ice cubes right now.”

“We eat with our eyes first.”

“You can’t even eat this.”

“No, but I can admire it.” He ladles lemonade into a red disposable cup and shoves it at me. “Now, here, taste it because I don’t know if it’s any good.”

I take a sip and give him a thumbs up, which seems to please him.

The doorbell rings, and his dark eyes light. He rubs his hands together, eager. “Our first guest is here—don’t forget to put on your nametag!”

“Are you sure you remembered your prescriptions today?” I call as he hurries out of the kitchen, obediently slapping the adhesive sticker to my shirt.

He doesn’t answer, but I don’t expect him to. Dragging my feet—far less excited about the group meeting than my conservator—I follow Cassian to the door just in time to greet Marilyn.

“Your house is beautiful, Piper,” the group leader says. “Do you plant all those flowers?”

“Quite a few, but some are perennials that my grandparents added years ago.”

“They’re so cheerful.” Her attention moves to Cassian. “A warning: Jorgen is visiting.”

The vampire’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s in Colorado?”

“He’s in Glenwood.”

“To visit Dwight?”

She gives him a knowing smile that’s tinged with sympathy. “To visit you .”

Cassian sighs, jabbing his hands into his front pockets. “Thank you for the heads up.”

“May I use your restroom, Piper?” she asks.

“Sure. Go through the living room and take a right in the hall before the mudroom. It’s the first door on the left.”

When she’s out of earshot, I ask Cassian, “Who’s Jorgen?”

“He’s the head of Marilyn’s husband’s bloodline.”

Another prince, then.

“Does he live nearby?” I ask.

“No, he has an estate in Copenhagen.”

“That’s like…Europe.”

“Last I checked.”

“Why does he want to see you?”

“I have no idea,” he says dismissively. “Will you fetch the butter cookies I picked up from the bakery earlier? I think I’d like to set them on the coffee table.”

“Cassian.”

He sighs, turning back to face me. “Two years ago, Etienne of House Allard became our archduke. Last week, he was found in his chambers with a stake through his heart. Therefore, inconveniently, we need a new archduke.”

“What does Jorgen have to do with all that?”

“I’m assuming he wants to nominate me since he pestered me about it before Etienne was sworn into the position last time.”

“And you don’t want to be archduke?”

“Did you miss the part about the staking?”

“Good point. What happened? Why did someone kill him?”

“His murder is being investigated.”

“What does the archduke do anyway?”

“He’s the head of our council, like a president or a prime minister.”

“Or a king?”

“That’s probably more accurate, since he has the final word.”

“Can a woman take the position?” I ask.

“Yes, but she’d be a duchess, not a duke.”

“Oh, is that how it works?” I say blandly.

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, bunny.”

“So why don’t you want to be king of the vampires?”

“I wouldn’t look good in a crown.”

“Please,” I scoff. “You know you’d look hot.”

“Well…” He smirks. “Maybe I don’t want to live in Europe. I’d rather stay here with you, and who could blame me? You’re good for my ego.”

“So, you’d have to live in Europe?”

“Technically, the archduke may live wherever he likes. But that’s always been Europe since the council meets in Bucharest.”

“So, before the last guy was staked, how long did the vampire king rule?”

“A hundred years.”

“That’s a long time.”

“It depends on your perspective.”

“Did someone kill him, too?”

“No. He decided a century was enough, and he stepped down and returned to Scotland.”

“A Scottish vampire?”

“We’re not all from Transylvania.”

Cassian isn’t from Transylvania either, but he spent a fair amount of time there.

The doorbell rings, cutting off the conversation.

Cassian beats me to the door. (Not that I try very hard to reach it first.) Colin and Ashlyn stand on the welcome mat. When Colin’s pretty conservator sees Cassian, a self-conscious smile flutters over her face.

An uneasy feeling twines in my stomach as I remember my conversation with Noah last week. Did she give him a plant? Maybe not, since he’s taken to working at my dining room table. He says it’s because of the broken AC, but I think he’s avoiding the administration office.

“Colin, Ashlyn,” Cassian says warmly. “So glad you could make it. Please, come in.”

He sounds like a proud father hosting his daughter’s birthday party.

Ashlyn’s gaze goes between us, and curiosity lights her eyes. She glances at Colin, and they share a look . A look I don’t like.

As soon as Cassian directs them into the living room, and we’re alone in the entry, I scowl at my conservator. “You need to tone down this gracious host thing. People are going to start rumors that we’re together.”

The vampire frowns. “But you’re in love with Noah.”

“First of all, no, I’m not. Second, they don’t know our weird history.”

His frown increases as he studies me, his dark eyes thoughtful. Gently, he asks, “Piper, you’re aware I’m not romantically interested in you, right?”

“Ew, yes. I know.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re a lovely girl.”

“This is getting awkward.”

“But there’s a bro code. ”

“You’re making it worse.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand. It’s not you—it’s me.”

“Can you stop with the breakup speech? I know we don’t have that kind of relationship. And I don’t want other people to think we do.”

Looking mildly offended, he crosses his arms. “Now, wait a minute. You could do worse, you know. I am the head of a house, after all, and?—”

“You’re such a cat. I didn’t say I was embarrassed by the idea. I just don’t want it to get back to Noah.”

His scowl turns into a smirk. “Why? I thought you didn’t like him anymore?”

I roll my eyes and walk into the living room, leaving him to deal with the next group of attendees who just showed up.

The doorbell goes off every few minutes as people arrive. They’re like trick-or-treaters, but not as welcome, because they won’t leave if you give them candy.

Too soon, I have a whole crowd of uncomfortable pre-vamps in my living room. They hold red disposable cups of lemonade and nibble cookies off paper napkins.

It’s like an awkward co-ed middle school party.

“Nice house,” Dylan says to me when he arrives. “Have you lived here long?”

He takes a sip of his disgusting smoothie, passing on the lemonade.

“A while.”

He looks around like maybe I’m suddenly worth his time. “The mortgage must be a bi?—”

“I rent.”

His smile dims, suddenly not as impressed, and he finds one of the folding chairs Cassian set up earlier.

“Having fun?” Cassian asks after he wanders back into the room.

“If you do this to me again, Your Highness, I’ll end your two-hundred-year reign.”

“Such a violent bunny.” He takes a sip of iced broth, surveying the room, and smiles when he sees most people have helped themselves to the refreshments he prepared. “It looks like Marilyn’s going to start soon. You should probably find a seat.”

“Where did all these folding chairs come from anyway? Did you rob a convention center?”

Cassian chuckles, shaking his head, and none-too-gently nudges me into the group.

I sit next to the guy whose name I can never remember. He doesn’t look any more excited to attend a support group at my house than he was last week at Marilyn’s.

“Hey, Dan,” I say, glancing at his name tag.

The man is probably in his late thirties. He wears jeans, a T-shirt, and work boots, and he hasn’t shaved in a few days.

He doesn’t have a drink or a cookie, and he looks so uncomfortable, I take pity on him. “Do you want me to grab you some lemonade or something?”

“I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble. I’ll just make Cassian do it.” I lift my hand, waving at the vampire. “Hey, Your Highness. Can we get some lemonade over here?” Then I lift my brows and smirk, reminding him he’s the reason we’re doing this.

An amused smile ghosts across his face, and he leaves his place at the wall and walks into the kitchen.

When I turn back, I find most of the room gaping at me. Ashlyn takes the seat on my right, holding two butter cookies stacked on a napkin, and offers me a friendly smile. Quietly, she asks, “What’s your relationship that you can talk to a head of one of the houses like that?”

“Reluctant prisoner.”

Her face goes blank. “What?”

Laughing because this is all so absurd, I sigh. “We’re just friends.”

“Do you want to be more than friends? I’m a good wingwoman.”

I start to protest, but Marilyn decides it’s time to start the meeting.

We’re halfway through Colin’s weekly recount of his kidnapping when the front door opens. Seconds later, Noah appears at the edge of the living room. He pauses, looking slightly vexed to find all these people in his home.

I think back, wondering if I remembered to warn him, and realize I did not.

All eyes swing to him, and Colin stops mid-sentence, gaping like a celebrity just joined us. “Noah!”

People whisper to their neighbors, most likely not expecting the hero of Colin’s story to suddenly appear. For many, this is probably their first time seeing him.

“Sorry.” The hunter’s eyes find mine. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He then turns to Colin, acknowledging the newest member of his fan club. “Hey, Colin.”

Next to me, Ashlyn practically vibrates with questions. I can guess a few of them:

Why is Noah here?

What’s his relationship with Piper?

Where can I sign up for his fan club?

I would like answers to a couple of those myself.

“It’s not a problem, Noah,” Marilyn assures him with a bright smile, as charmed by my ex-conservator as the rest of the women in attendance.

Looking like he’s preparing for a hasty getaway, he nods to her and then says to me, “I have some work to finish up. I’ll be in the dining room.”

We all watch him disappear through the kitchen arch, and then slowly, the room’s attention moves from Noah to me. Again .

Marilyn clears her throat. “Colin, please continue.”

Needing no further prompting, Colin continues his story with renewed exuberance. While he talks, I unlock my phone and discreetly pull up my texts.

Piper: Sorry, I forgot to tell you about the meeting.

Noah: It’s fine. I saw the cars and figured it out.

Piper: And you didn’t run the other way?

Noah: I hunt unstable vampires for a living. I can handle a support group.

Though I would rather spend the rest of the meeting talking to him, I set my phone screen-down on my leg and wait for Colin to finish. Eventually, the conversation moves on. This time, to family issues.

“I just don’t know what to do with the blood while we’re camping,” Jennifer, a woman in her late thirties, says. “I can’t just stick it in the cooler, or my parents will be asking some serious questions.”

“Have you considered talking to them about your illness?” Marilyn asks gently. “You’re allowed to tell your immediate family.”

“They’ll just blame Carter,” Jennifer sighs.

“Your husband?” Marilyn asks. “Why would they do that? He had nothing to do with you contracting the disease.”

“They blame him for everything.”

I zone out while Jennifer talks, my mind wandering to my own parents. Eventually, I’m going to have to tell them, too, and it’s not going to go over well.

Since I don’t have a husband they dislike, they’ll blame my business. (You would have never met the vampire if you hadn’t been at that market every week.)

They’ll blame my diet. (You weren’t eating enough protein, and your immune system was too weak to fight off the virus.)

But mostly, they’ll blame me. (You shouldn’t have gotten in a car with a man you barely knew.)

And though I’ll argue that bad things simply happen sometimes, part of me will wonder if they’re right.

These are all worries to share with the support group—that’s the point of these awful meetings after all—but when Marilyn asks, “Piper, do you have anything you’d like to talk about this week? Any wins, concerns, or thoughts?” I shake my head.

“Not today.”

Marilyn frowns a little, like she doesn’t think I’m as well adjusted as I try to portray. But she doesn’t press further, and I appreciate that. Maybe she figures I’ll share when I’m ready.

No one else has anything to add to the discussion, so she wraps up the session, reminding us we’ll meet at Dylan’s place next week. (Yay.)

As we rise, Ashlyn asks me, “Do you mind if I say hi to Noah real quick?”

“Go ahead,” I say, even though she’s already heading toward the kitchen.

Dan leaves immediately, but everyone else lingers to chat. I join Cassian, Marilyn, and Jennifer.

“Please consider telling them,” Marilyn says to Jennifer, speaking of her parents again. “You have to take blood for the rest of your life. It will only get more difficult if you try to hide it.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jennifer promises, and then she thanks me for hosting, tells everyone goodbye, and leaves.

When Marilyn is pulled into another conversation, Cassian says to me, “I think that went well.”

“Yeah,” I say, my eyes on the kitchen. More people are leaving, but Ashlyn is still in the dining room with Noah.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, doing his best to distract me from my brooding.

Giving in, I turn my attention to him, shooting him a droll look and making him laugh. Suddenly, he drapes his arm over my shoulder, tucking me close to his side.

“What are you doing?” I scowl up at him. “Do you not remember the conversation we had before the meeting?”

He suddenly lets out a boisterous laugh, though I didn’t say anything funny.

“What’s wrong with you?” I demand.

And then I notice Noah and Ashlyn standing under the kitchen arch. Noah’s eyes are on us, and he looks…miffed.

Worried Noah will get the wrong impression, I attempt to step away. But Cassian tightens his grip on me, holding me hostage.

Looking elated, Ashlyn makes a beeline for us. Reluctantly, Noah trails behind her.

“You two are so cute,” she says when she reaches us.

Jabbing my elbow into Cassian’s side, I jerk away, and this time, he lets me go. “We’re not?—”

“Together.” She winks like she’s about to do me a favor and I should play along. “I know.”

“I—”

“So,” she says, cutting me off when I try to argue. “I was just telling Noah that you were hoping Cassian would take you to that new axe-throwing place tonight.”

She takes me so completely by surprise; I blink at her. “I…I did what now?”

“And we were thinking we might join you.” She beams at me and then at Noah.

I turn my eyes on Noah, and he cringes. He begins to protest, but Ashlyn bravely forges ahead.

“So, what do you think?” she asks exuberantly. “Should the four of us go on a double date?”