A Girls Guide to Vampires by Katie MacAlister Page B
Authors: Katie MacAlister
Tags: vampire
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blanket of silk. "I'm not in the least bit offended by your questions, although I would much rather hear about what brings two such lovely women to a small corner of the Czech Republic."
"A wild goose chase," I muttered.
Roxy ignored me. "Have you ever heard of a local author named Dante?" she asked Raphael and Christian. The former shook his head.
Christian frowned slightly as he toyed with his bread, rubbing crumbs off the crust. "Yes, I have."
"I thought you might; he lives in this area," Roxy continued, digging through her sizeable purse for a copy of the book she was reading. "He writes the most delicious books about Moravians—vampires, you know—and we're dying to meet him. The books are fabulous, utterly, utterly fabulous, with mysterious, dark, brooding heroes to die for. You really should read them—not that you'd find the heroes to die for, since you're men, not unless you're…" She glanced up at Christian and Raphael, then back down into her purse. "You really should read them. There are twelve books out now, and there's supposed to be another one in a few months. Drat, I must have left the book in my room."
Christian's brows rose as he looked from Roxy to myself . I gave him a five for effort—he was good, but he couldn't hold a candle to the Browmaster sitting opposite me. Raphael was leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed, a pained expression on his face. I couldn't figure out if he was bored with the conversation or the company. He certainly wasn't contributing much to the conversation. I wondered why, if he was so unhappy, he'd agreed to sit with us; then I wondered why I cared. Just because I was the teensiest bit attracted to the man didn't mean I had to like him.
I shot a look at him from under my lashes. He watched me through half-closed eyes, his expression making blood rush to all sorts of interesting spots on my body. My question as to why he was bothering with us was answered by the interest that flared deep within the glittering slivers of amber.
Christian listened as Roxy recapped the plot of the latest book, continuing to toy with what remained of his bread, looking a bit askance at Roxy's enthusiasm. Raphael glanced at his watch, which prompted me to shut Roxy up and turn the conversation to something that might interest him.
"I really don't think they care about the books, Rox."
"On the contrary," Raphael spoke up. "I'm finding it a fascinating look at what women feel are missing from their lives."
"Missing? What do you mean, missing?" I asked.
He rubbed a finger along his jaw, his lips donning an insufferably smug look. "From what Roxy says, women are the primary readers of these books."
"Yeah, so?"
"And they feature male characters who are dominant and aggressive, especially toward women?"
"They're called alpha males, and what of it?"
A slight smile quirked his lips. "You needn't get so defensive; I was merely pointing out that books whose readership is predominantly female, featuring aggressive male characters and including what I assume are numerous scenes of a licentious nature—"
"Licentious?" I gasped. How dare he say that about Dante's fabulous, romantic, sensual, erotic books?
"I bet you're one of those men who likes to feel superior to women," Roxy said suspiciously.
Christian turned a laugh into a cough. Raphael and I ignored both of them.
"—can only indicate that the books strike a chord with their readers, fulfilling a need, if you will, unmet in their everyday lives."
"Well, look who has a psychology degree," I snorted, and damning the calories, slathered fresh butter on my piece of bread.
"Bristol University, 1992," he agreed.
"Oh. Sorry." I ate crow in the form of my bread.
"I'm not." Roxy shot him a squinty eyed glare. "I think he's one of the alpha males he's so quick to damn."
"You tell me, then," Raphael offered, leaning backward on the back legs of the chair, his hands locked behind his head, "what it is you both find so attractive in these
"A wild goose chase," I muttered.
Roxy ignored me. "Have you ever heard of a local author named Dante?" she asked Raphael and Christian. The former shook his head.
Christian frowned slightly as he toyed with his bread, rubbing crumbs off the crust. "Yes, I have."
"I thought you might; he lives in this area," Roxy continued, digging through her sizeable purse for a copy of the book she was reading. "He writes the most delicious books about Moravians—vampires, you know—and we're dying to meet him. The books are fabulous, utterly, utterly fabulous, with mysterious, dark, brooding heroes to die for. You really should read them—not that you'd find the heroes to die for, since you're men, not unless you're…" She glanced up at Christian and Raphael, then back down into her purse. "You really should read them. There are twelve books out now, and there's supposed to be another one in a few months. Drat, I must have left the book in my room."
Christian's brows rose as he looked from Roxy to myself . I gave him a five for effort—he was good, but he couldn't hold a candle to the Browmaster sitting opposite me. Raphael was leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed, a pained expression on his face. I couldn't figure out if he was bored with the conversation or the company. He certainly wasn't contributing much to the conversation. I wondered why, if he was so unhappy, he'd agreed to sit with us; then I wondered why I cared. Just because I was the teensiest bit attracted to the man didn't mean I had to like him.
I shot a look at him from under my lashes. He watched me through half-closed eyes, his expression making blood rush to all sorts of interesting spots on my body. My question as to why he was bothering with us was answered by the interest that flared deep within the glittering slivers of amber.
Christian listened as Roxy recapped the plot of the latest book, continuing to toy with what remained of his bread, looking a bit askance at Roxy's enthusiasm. Raphael glanced at his watch, which prompted me to shut Roxy up and turn the conversation to something that might interest him.
"I really don't think they care about the books, Rox."
"On the contrary," Raphael spoke up. "I'm finding it a fascinating look at what women feel are missing from their lives."
"Missing? What do you mean, missing?" I asked.
He rubbed a finger along his jaw, his lips donning an insufferably smug look. "From what Roxy says, women are the primary readers of these books."
"Yeah, so?"
"And they feature male characters who are dominant and aggressive, especially toward women?"
"They're called alpha males, and what of it?"
A slight smile quirked his lips. "You needn't get so defensive; I was merely pointing out that books whose readership is predominantly female, featuring aggressive male characters and including what I assume are numerous scenes of a licentious nature—"
"Licentious?" I gasped. How dare he say that about Dante's fabulous, romantic, sensual, erotic books?
"I bet you're one of those men who likes to feel superior to women," Roxy said suspiciously.
Christian turned a laugh into a cough. Raphael and I ignored both of them.
"—can only indicate that the books strike a chord with their readers, fulfilling a need, if you will, unmet in their everyday lives."
"Well, look who has a psychology degree," I snorted, and damning the calories, slathered fresh butter on my piece of bread.
"Bristol University, 1992," he agreed.
"Oh. Sorry." I ate crow in the form of my bread.
"I'm not." Roxy shot him a squinty eyed glare. "I think he's one of the alpha males he's so quick to damn."
"You tell me, then," Raphael offered, leaning backward on the back legs of the chair, his hands locked behind his head, "what it is you both find so attractive in these
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