“Exactly, cherie. That and the bite makes one believe it is like sex.”
“Right.” How I well knew this.
“Let us put this behind us, then. Tell me what you did this evening at Tremayne's gauche towers.” He stressed the word, and after arranging himself beside me, leaned his head on a broad hand, his elbow smashing a pillow. I decided I would not wash that pillowcase. In fact, I might bronze it later when I had time.
I turned my gaze to the ceiling. I'd painted it a deep maroon. It contrasted nicely with the salmon walls. “I went to my meeting with Nicolas, and who walks in, but Ilona!”
“Ilona? Ilona Tremayne?” He sounded startled. “She is a psychic vampire! Are you…”
“I'm fine, really.” I placed my hand on his cool chest. “I actually was able to siphon some of her thoughts.”
“Sacrebleu!
