Filthy Rich Vampire (Filthy Rich Vampires Book 1)

I woke to find Julian asleep in the chair. He was still dressed, and it looked like he hadn’t moved an inch during the night. I stared at him for a moment, trying to process everything that had happened in the last twelve hours. I’d been covered in snakes, his mother knew the status of my virginity, I’d been covered in snakes, and, apparently, I was Julian’s mate. Whatever that meant. Oh, and I’d been covered in snakes.

Was he my mate?

I needed to know more about this whole mating thing, but how could I ask him? Jacqueline said he seemed to be fighting it. Why? It felt like my head might explode from the sheer number of questions that wanted to come out. But as I watched the sharp lines of his face, softened by sleep, a deep ache swelled in my chest.

Yesterday, I wasn’t sure if I could stay.

Today, I wasn’t sure if I could leave.

I slipped quietly from the bed and tiptoed into the en suite bath. Closing the door as quietly as possible, I went about my morning routine. Between getting dressed up last night and knowing I would be expected to again this evening, I decided to skip makeup altogether. I splashed a little cold water on my face and reached for the towel.

Julian handed it to me.

“Oh my god!” I clutched my chest as my heart tried to escape through my throat. Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, I glared at him in the mirror. “Make some noise!”

“I could demand the same,” he said dryly, but his face remained contorted with anxiety. “You weren’t in bed when I woke up.”

“I didn’t go far. You were still asleep.” I patted dry my face before applying some sunscreen.

“Still…” His hands found my hips as he leaned to nuzzle my shoulder. He lingered there, his eyes closing for a moment as he inhaled. “I’m sorry.”

I should push him away, but I didn’t want to. After everything he kept from me, I should be angry. I should demand answers. Instead, I only wanted to stay like this, with him. It felt so simple in these moments that I almost forgot how complicated our relationship was becoming.

“Sorry for what?”

“Do you want a list?” His eyes met mine in the mirror. “To start, I should have told you about tethering.”

“You think?”

“I’m not sure why I didn’t,” he admitted, planting a kiss on my shoulder that made me shudder with pleasure. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about weird vampire shit.”

“Really?” I arched an eyebrow, debating if that was a sign that I should ask him about what Jacqueline had said. For some reason, despite the offer, I wasn’t ready to ask about it. The truth was that I just didn’t believe her. Julian barely knew me. He couldn’t possibly want to be stuck with me for the rest of my life. I might not understand what vampire mating was precisely, but I’d seen enough nature documentaries to understand the basic concept.

“But first,” he said, and I caught my breath waiting for his condition, “I want to take you on that date.”

“Now?”

“Yes.” He paused, his eyes darkening slightly. “Sooner rather than later.”

“Because we have the theatre tonight.” I sighed. Attending a theatre in Paris sounded like a dream. Unfortunately, knowing I would be attending with an audience of vampires sent that dream into nightmare territory.

He kissed my shoulder again and shook his head. The five o’clock shadow dusting his chin scratched my skin in a tantalizing way. “Because if you don’t put some clothes on soon,” he said with a thick rasp, “I’m going to carry you back to bed and spend the whole day with my face buried between your legs.”

Warmth pooled in my core, and my knees nearly buckled. I gripped the marble counter to keep upright. “That’s tempting. I’m not sure I want to get dressed.”

His low chuckle made my stomach flutter. “I’m afraid that if we don’t make an effort, we will spend every moment we have in Paris in bed or at a bloody event.”

“We could just spend all our time in bed and skip the bloody events,” I suggested. Cautiously, I brushed my index finger across the top of his hand. His eyes hooded and a low rumble vibrated in his chest.

“Careful, pet,” he warned me. “I’d rather not spend the day in a fit of blood-lust.”

I wanted to point out that there was a way to cure him of that, but I needed to decide if I was willing to pay the price it would exact on both of us. I lifted my hand and reached for my hairbrush. Swallowing, I forced myself to think of something normal to say. “What should I wear?”

“Whatever you like. Although I prefer when you wear nothing.”

“I think the weather is a bit cold for that.” A smile tugged at my lips. Despite everything, there was something deeply satisfying about being wanted as much as I wanted him.

“I’m going to take a shower, and then we’ll explore.”

On cue, my stomach growled, and he smirked.

“We’ll start with breakfast.”

“Me and my stupid human stomach,” I muttered. Now that a day in Paris was on the table, stopping for breakfast sounded so mundane. “I bet you wish I didn’t have to eat all the time.”

“I wouldn’t change a thing about you, even your stupid human stomach.” He moved to the shower, turned toward it, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “It’s my pleasure to care for you.”

A new hunger developed as he spoke. My eyes followed the progress of his nimble fingers as he unfastened the final button. He slipped the shirt off and hung it on a nearby hook. By the time he reached to unbuckle his pants, I was starving.

“If you keep looking at me like that, neither of us will make it farther than the next room,” he said, nearly growling.

“Sorry!” I heard the shower turn on as I reached the bathroom door. I couldn’t help but steal one peek.

Julian stood under the showerhead, letting it wash over him. He turned and shook the water from his hair. “You have about three seconds to get your pretty little ass out of here before I put you over my knee. Boundaries, pet.”

My eyes swept lower, pleased to see that he was at least as aroused as I was. I blew him a kiss and shut the door behind me. Now I had another problem. What did I wear on a date in Paris with a vampire?

“You’ve got champagne problems, Thea,” I said to myself, unable to hold back a grin, as I headed toward the closet to figure it out.

I couldn’t stop checking out Julian’s ass. I’d opted for the designer jeans I purchased during yesterday’s shopping trip paired with a blush-pink sweater and oversized cashmere jacket. Julian had taken one look at me, walked into the closet, and returned wearing a ribbed black sweater that clung to his muscular body, a loosely knotted tartan scarf, and a pair of jeans that looked like they’d been gifted to him by the gods.

“It’s like you’ve never seen a man wearing jeans before,” he said, catching me in the act again.

“I’ve never seen you wearing jeans before,” I corrected him. Lifting my face up, I grinned at him. “Why do you wear anything else?”

“Jeans still feel a little modern for my tastes.” He hooked an arm around my shoulder as we turned off the house’s quiet, tree-lined street.

“Modern?” I snorted.

“Sometimes, you forget I’m an old man.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead.

I grabbed the hand dangling over my shoulder, frowning to feel his calfskin gloves. They were buttery soft, and in the fall air, they hardly looked out of place, especially paired with the leather jacket he’d grabbed on our way out the door. It was simply that the gloves reminded me of every obstacle that stood between us.

“Here.” He guided us into a small bakery. “Best breakfast in Paris.”

I listened as he ordered in French, and a few minutes later, we each had a hot café and a fresh croissant. I took my first bite as we stepped out the door and stopped in my tracks. A dozen layers of flaky, buttery heaven melted across my tongue. I groaned in approval.

“You’re making me jealous of a pastry, pet,” he murmured as he coaxed me gently back onto the sidewalk so other customers could enter.

I swallowed and licked my lips. “You should be. I think I just lost my virginity to it.”

“You’re hilarious,” he said darkly as he steered me down the street.

“This isn’t like croissants back home,” I admitted as I took another bite.

“You approve?”

“I’m thinking about marrying it,” I said with a sigh. “Where are we going?”

“To one of my favorite spots in Paris,” he said.

“When was the last time you were here?” I asked, sipping my coffee. “What if it’s not there?”

“That is one of the things I love about Paris,” he told me as we crossed the street and continued past a row of beautiful limestone buildings. “It doesn’t erase its past like some cities. The new grows around it.”

“So, nothing ever changes?”

“No, things change, but the important things do not.” A horn honked as we cut across another street, and Julian shouted at the driver. “Unfortunately, some things do. I miss the days when it was all carriages–except for the smell.”

We continued down the street. Julian pointed out architecture and told stories about every spot we passed.

“You’ve spent a lot of time here,” I said as we waited for our chance to cross a larger intersection.

“I’ve spent a lot of time everywhere,” he said with a shrug.

Nine hundred years allowed for that, I supposed. The crossing light turned, and Julian slipped his hand into mine as we stepped onto the street.

This wasn’t a date. It was a scene from a movie. Each second that passed was even more impossibly perfect than the last. I never wanted it to end.

The streets grew more crowded as we continued. Everywhere I looked, tourists snapped photos. Boutiques gave way to shops selling tiny Eiffel Towers and cheap sunglasses. This was Julian’s favorite spot in Paris? I guessed things had changed a little, but I gasped as we rounded the corner, and I spotted part of Notre Dame. I’d seen pictures of it before the fire, but even now, surrounded by scaffolding, it was amazing. Julian stopped beside me.

“What the hell happened here?”

I blinked, momentarily confused. “The fire…”

“Nobody mentioned a fire,” he told me, and I remembered that he’d been asleep when the landmark burned. “I suppose Celia had to leave a few things out of the dossier. I’ll have to remember to tell her in the future that I care more about things like this than the advent of social media.”

My stomach clenched at his use of next time. Did he plan to go back to sleep when the season ended? I didn’t have the heart to ask. Instead, I forced a smile.

“Come on.” He tugged me toward a stone bridge that sat over the Seine. We crossed quietly, hand in hand, and entered another world. The chaos that enveloped the city faded with each step we took.

“Where are we?” I asked, looking around at the old stone buildings.

“Île Saint-Louis,” he said as we passed some quiet bistros. “I spent most of the eighteenth century getting into trouble here.”

“Trouble, huh?” It seemed impossible to imagine trouble could be found in the quaint neighborhood. He guided me down a side street and paused in front of a nondescript gate.

“And this is Paris’s best-kept secret. At least, I hope it still is.” His crooked grin made my heart skip a beat. He pulled off a glove and then placed his palm on the iron gate. It swung open, revealing a courtyard that seemed impossibly big given the street it sat off.

“How?” I peered inside.

Julian put his glove back on, smiling at my amazed expression. “Welcome to Île Cachée.”