Lifestyles of the Rich and Undead Read Online Free

wondered if she knew that a clump of leaves was listing to the side, tangled in the depths of her hair.
    She must have realized that she had landed in a patch of poison oak, because after a few seconds of muttering to herself, she leaped up shrieking and drew a few quick symbols in the air.
    “Did she just ward herself?” I asked the cat.
    He sneered.
    “That’s what I thought.” I frowned at the woman as she gathered up the things that had fallen out of her handbag. As she turned, I got a better look at her face. A jolt of electricity tingled up my spine when I realized that she was the nun I’d seen the night before. “What sort of a holy woman knows about wards?”
    Johannes did not answer, not that he could—a small blessing for which I’d been thankful over the course of the last three centuries.
    “It doesn’t matter,” I said with grim determination as I strode after the woman when she hurried past me on the pitted gravel drive. “Whatever it is the little nun is doing here, it’s going to stop right now.”
    She didn’t hear me until I was about to grab her, and then she barely had time to gasp as she whirled around. I slapped one hand over her mouth, the other on her neck.
    Wide gray eyes considered me for three seconds before the lids fluttered closed as she toppled forward. I released my hold on her neck, catching her and swinging her up into my arms. “Now we’ll get some answers,” I told the unconscious woman as I carried her into the lodge.
    She felt warm and soft in my arms, the faint scent of lilacs teasing my nose. I sternly told my libido to stop noticing just how nice a scent that was or that her face was lightly freckled, her skin as smooth as satin, all of which left me with the desire to stroke her soft curves. Her mouth looked as soft as the rest of her, a delicate rose in color, as if she’d been eating strawberries. A sudden rush of blood to my groin had me reminding myself that lusting after a nun was not appropriate, especially one who disregarded newly installed chains and locks and innumerable “No Trespassing” signs scattered around the estate. Still, it took some effort to force my gaze away from the temptation of her sweetly curved lips.
    It took ten minutes to round up some twine from the remains of a broken packing box, but after a few minutes, I stepped back and admired my handiwork. The woman was slumped in a chair, her hands bound behind her, a gag around her neck waiting to be pulled forward and put into place in case she started screaming.
    Johannes sniffed at her feet and turned away, apparently bored. I wasn’t fooled in the least. He always took profound interest in any female.
    “Hrn?” The little nun snorted and blinked, squinting at me as I stood before her, my arms crossed. “Fleg?”
    “Do you speak English?” I asked, switching to French. “French? German?”
    “I’m English,” she answered, blinking rapidly as she obviously tried to bring me into focus. “Who are you? Did you . . . ugh, my head . . . knock me out?”
    “I applied pressure to your neck, causing you to black out,” I said sternly, trying hard not to notice how her breasts swelled when she struggled to bring her arms forward.
    “You Vulcan neck-pinched me? Why am I tied up? And did you know you’re a Dark One?”
    I frowned. “What does a nun know of either Vulcan neck pinches or Dark Ones?”
    She stopped trying to free her hands. “I’m not a nun, I’m a Guardian. And a Beloved, so I know a Dark One when I see him. Or her. But mostly you’re hims, not hers, aren’t you? Do you have any pain tablets? I had a repulsively annoying headache before you Vulcanized me, and now it’s just that much worse.”
    “No,” I answered, increasing the intensity of my frown. The little nun didn’t seem to be the least bit intimidated to find herself bound and held prisoner.
    “No you don’t know you’re a Dark One, no you’re not mostly males, or no you don’t have any pain