Chapter Two

The sky was still deep purple but starting to lighten around the edges as I drove home with a half-eaten cake in my passenger seat. I was used to late hours. I worked on vampire time, but weariness was sitting in my bones, making everything soft and shapeless.

I lived about fifteen minutes in the opposite direction of the Quarter in one of Bonne Chance's middle class neighborhoods. I used the money from our first advance to put a down payment on a sky-blue bungalow with eggshell white shutters and trim. I parked Beatrice and cut the engine, leaning forward to look up at my home.

The curtains twitched and then Frank Langella, my orange creamsicle Tomcat, peered out at me. Probably wondering why I was still sitting in my car and not inside refilling his food dish. "Okay, I'm coming." I muttered, dragging my messenger bag up over my head and grabbing my cake from the passenger seat.

I stepped out of my beetle and took a deep breath of the dew-scented air. The neighbor's azaleas were in bloom and the scent of them brought a small, sleepy smile to my face. Shutting the door behind me, I started up the stoop to my front door when it opened for me. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" I asked, tilting my gaze up to Charlemagne's face.

"I had to see you home safe, ma cherie." He murmured, opening the door wider to let me in and take the cake box from my hands. Faster than the eye could blink, he had put it away in my fridge and returned to me. "I have already taken the liberty of feeding Master Langella."

My mouth twitched as Frank Langella slid past my leg and cuddled up against Charlemagne's pant leg. "This is why he likes you more than me." I said, as he crouched down to scratch Frank between his ears. I bent to run my fingers through the little traitor's tail.

Charlemagne glanced up at me, his eyes a clear, deep blue. "I like him too." He murmured. "He reminds me of a cat I had once. He was orange quite like this one. Basil."

I blinked at him. "You had a cat at Fortuna?" I asked softly, dropping my gaze back to Frank Langella as he bumped his forehead into my fingers.

"Non, in my life before." That drew my eyes back to his face. "When I was human."

Charlemagne never talked about his human life. And after a two-week disappearing stint, I learned not to press him on it. Some things were too personal. Too painful. "You did?" I asked, leaving the door open for him if he wanted to go on.

"I did." He said, straightening to brush his slacks off. "But that was a long time ago and I should take my leave of you now, Writer." He murmured, gently closing the door.

I straightened to tilt my head up at him. "Will you come over tomorrow—tonight, I guess?" I mumbled. "Now that we're Best Sellers, we should probably finish our sequel."

"I will be here, Abigail." Charlemagne's features softened as he reached for my hand to bring my knuckles to his lips, his breath against my fingers sent a warm shiver up my arm. "We have a few things we need to discuss." He said and was gone.

Wait, what? I turned towards the front door. "Wait, what do we need to discuss?" I called out, knowing I was calling to air at this point. "Charley!" Sudden frustration burned in my gut. He could be such a brat sometimes! Who ends a conversation like that?

Making a deeply disgruntled noise, I flicked the locks on the front door before starting towards my bedroom, turning off lights as I went. I dropped my messenger bag onto my vanity seat and shrugged out of my coat. I finished undressing quickly and changed into a pair of unicorn pajamas, wondering the entire time what Charlemagne and I needed to discuss.

I gave up on it as I crawled into bed, grabbing the remote off my nightstand. I turned on the flatscreen and burrowed down into my covers. I liked the flickering blue light. Turning the volume down until there was no more than a murmur, TV Land ushered me into sleep.

A shrill ringing woke me up a few hours later. Groggy, I turned over and nearly fell out of bed palming my jeans to get to my cell phone. I tapped at the blurry green circle on my screen and lifted it up to my ear. "Hello?" I mumbled, quickly spinning the phone right side up to try again. "Hello?"

"Late night with the vampire man?"

I made a noise at my sister. She knew about Charlemagne but she didn't believe he was an actual vampire, just that we might have taken our "silly vampire books" too seriously. "Something like that." I grunted, dropping back against my pillow. "What time is it?"

"It's Eight AM." Miranda said, and I could hear her moving around her kitchen, getting ready for her day. "You know, when normal people wake up and start their days?"

I made another noise at her. I'd been asleep for three hours. Three! "When I have ever been normal?" I replied, turning over on my bed to drag my blanket up over my shoulder. "What's up?"

"It's dad's birthday on Friday."

There was a twinge in my stomach. "I know." I said, softening my tone. "The usual?"

"Yeah, you want to meet there, or should I pick you up?" She asked, her voice lower, softer.

I raised my hand to press my palm against my forehead. There were so many other conversations I'd rather be having with my sister. "I'll meet you there." I paused. "Is Mom coming?"

Miranda sighed and that was answer enough. "No, Phil is taking her out of town to keep her spirits up." I could almost hear the air quotes over the phone.

Phil was our stepdad. He was a decent guy, I even liked him, but he wasn't our dad. "Must be nice for Mom." I muttered, which didn't feel fair, but I'd already said it.

Empty air filled the line, and I almost opened my mouth to ask if she was still there when she made a noise. "Anyways." Miranda exhaled. "What did you and Charles do last night? More writing?"

I released a breath, tension melting from my shoulders. "He introduced me to his best friend, actually." I said, dropping my hand. "We spent most of the evening talking."

"Abby."

"What?" I asked, pretending I didn't know what she was about to say. We'd been having this conversation since I'd introduced them three months ago.

"He's so into you." Miranda said, her inflection going up and bordering on a squeal. "How did it go? Tell me everything."

I shut my eyes, bringing my hand right back to my forehead. "There's not much to tell. And he's not into me. We're just friends." I said, stressing the word for her benefit. "He introduced me to his girlfriend last night too." I added, though calling Sabella his girlfriend seemed like a stretch.

"Oh." Her voice dropped with obvious disappointment. "Boo on him then…. unless he's trying to make you jealous?"

"Miranda, I'm hanging up now." I said, dragging my phone away from my ear. "Bye, love you!" I called over her protests before hitting end call.

I placed my phone on its charger and rubbed my face. A headache was starting in my temples. I needed more sleep. A lot more sleep. I burrowed down into my covers and shut my eyes. I opened them a few seconds later to stare up at the ceiling. I thought about Charlemagne and the way he'd slipped his hands over mine. The way he held me steady.

It didn't mean anything. We were just friends. Thinking of Charlemagne as anything more than that was hazardous to my health. All I had to do was think of how he'd referred to Sabella as his current paramour and it shut down any wandering imagination on my part. He was my friend. That was all.

Making a frustrated noise, I kicked the covers back and slid out of bed. I didn't want to think about him. Except most of my job consisted of thinking of him. But I didn't have to think about him in that way. What was the point? I didn't have those kinds of feelings for him. I shut it down before any subconscious voices tried to disagree with me.

I grabbed my housecoat and padded out of my bedroom to wander towards the kitchen. I refilled Frank's bowl and got out the leftover cake from the night before. I paused and hurried back into my room to text my sister that I'd pick up the cake from Sweet Maman's on Friday if she would bring the wine.

With that settled, I padded back into my kitchen to put the kettle on. I wandered towards the window to peek out, squinting against the glare of the sun. The world was washed in gold. Pretty. And way too bright. I stepped back from the blinds and leaned back against my kitchen island. Folding my arms across my chest, Charlemagne drifted back into my thoughts.

There were things we needed to discuss. My stomach twinged. What did that even mean? Everything had seemed fine. Better than fine. In fact, I thought things had been going rather well. I pushed it aside and thought about what we needed to work on instead. We were halfway through our second novel and Julian was waiting on the next few chapters.

The kettle whistling brought me out of my doze. I grabbed my pink elephant mug and a chamomile teabag. I mixed in sugar, a bit of cream, and two ice cubes to cool it down before taking my mug and my leftover cake with me to the living room. I settled on the couch and grabbed my remote to find something mind-numbing to clear my head.

I found a Golden Girls marathon and settled in.

"Abigail."

I opened my eyes with a sharp inhale and sat up to blink at Charlemagne. Still mostly asleep, he was a pair of blue eyes in a pale face. "Daytime. What are you doing here?" I mumbled, my voice sleep-slurred as I reached up to rub at my mouth with the back of my sleeve.

Charlemagne straightened and gestured to the room around us. The shadows had deepened while I'd been asleep. "Sunset was over an hour ago, ma cherie." He murmured. "I was waiting for you to wake up, but you were taking so long."

I blinked at him again, biting down on the urge to ask how long he'd been waiting. If he'd seen me do anything embarrassing in my sleep, I did not want to know. I reached up to rub my eyes before dropping my hands to get a good look at him. Tonight, he wore a charcoal grey suit with a crisp white undershirt and black leather loafers. His hair was tied back at the nape of his neck.

So beautiful it could make your heart ache if you let it.

"Sorry, but you did keep me up all night." I pointed out, offering him a small smile. "Let me get dressed and I'm yours." I said, taking the hand he'd offered to get to my feet.

Charlemagne slid his gaze from the top of my bedhead to my socked feet. "I will take you as you are, Abigail." He murmured. "I am quite fond of unicorns."

Heat flushed through my face, my thoughts from earlier catching up to me. "That's um—can you make me some coffee?" I blurted out before escaping down the hallway to get to my room.

I shut the door and leaned against it for a moment, taking a breath to calm my racing heart. What was wrong with me? Charlemagne was a consummate flirt and that comment ranked nowhere near some of the things I'd heard him say. I dropped my head back against the door with a small thud. This was Miranda's fault for putting those thoughts in my head.

Yeah, I could live with blaming my sister for this one. I pushed off the door and hurried into my bathroom to brush my teeth and gather my hair up into a sloppy bun. I threw on some deodorant and changed into a pair of jeans and a Murder, She Wrote t-shirt. Give me strength, J.B. I dipped out of my room and padded down the hall, the scent of fresh coffee touching my nose.

Charlemagne appeared at the end of the hall with a mug for me. "With cream and entirely too much sugar, ma cherie." He said, a smile lingering on his mouth. "You blushed earlier."

"It happens." I mumbled, taking the mug from him, the heat warming my fingers. "Don't make a thing of it, DiBaptiste." I warned, bringing the mug up to my lips to take a sip.

He pressed a hand to his chest. "I would never dream of it." He tutted, feigning innocence. "Come, sit with me. We need to talk."

Oh, right. We needed to talk. My next sip of coffee was a gulp as I followed him towards the couch. He'd cleaned up my tea mug and leftover cake while I'd been changing. "Are we...okay?" I asked, once we'd settled down.

"Of course we are, why would we not be?"

I blinked up at him, brows raising. "We need to talk is usually code for breaking up." I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I've been worried about it all day."

Charlemagne's features softened as he stretched his arm out along the back of the couch, the tips of his fingers sliding a strand of hair from my face. "Forgive me, Abigail. I did not mean to imply that I would be letting you go." he said. "Far from it, ma cherie, I wanted to ensure that I remain in your good graces."

A wholly new concern seized me. "Wait, what did you do?" I asked, my brows pinching together. Where was the body and had he buried it already?

Charlemagne dropped his hand with a roll of his eyes. "Nothing. Yet." He flashed an impish grin before he sobered. "While Marcus is in town he will be hosting a series of events for me. Unfortunately, my duty as the sovereign of this state requires me to show my face, but Marcus allows me to do it in a way that I can still maintain my privacy at Fortuna."

I blinked up at him. Oh. He was being considerate. That was rare. Charlemagne was more likely to disappear without a word than let me know he was going to do it. My features softened for him. "What are the events like?" I asked, bringing my knees up onto the couch.

Charlemagne made a vague gesture. "I will be visiting coven houses around the state, making the rounds, and then Marcus will host a series of small gatherings until the ball on the evening of Samhain." He tutted, his hand raising to slip the back of his knuckle along my cheek. "I know that look, Writer. You cannot come with me."

I gaped at him, my heart dipping in disappointment. "Why not?" I breathed out. "It would be the perfect opportunity for me to see you in-in your element. The material we could get—"

"Non, Abigail." He said, his tongue rolling around my name with a certain finality before his features softened again. "I do not intend to share you with any other vampires. Not yet."

I opened my mouth and then shut it with a noisy exhale. "Fine." I brought my mug up to my lips to take a sip of coffee, letting the warmth fill my chest. "When will I get to see you?" I asked softly, shifting my gaze to somewhere beyond his shoulder.

"I will try to be around as much as I can, but je ne sais pas, it all depends on what Marcus has planned." Charlemagne said, tilting his head until I was looking at his face again. "Don't look so upset, ma cherie, I might start to think you will miss me."

I rolled my eyes, which was the intended reaction. "Miss you? Please." I snorted, but the small ache in my chest called me a liar.

I would miss him. I'd just never tell him that.