Vlad by Stacey Rourke

Author:Stacey Rourke [Rourke, Stacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anchor Group Publishing
Published: 2018-11-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter seventeen

Vinx

Dracula lives.

Splashed across every media outlet, each article was accompanied by the glamourized reason for his awakening.

Namely, me.

Interview requests flooded in. The world eager to get a glimpse of the King, and future Queen of Darkness.

Nope. Nowhere near comfortable with that title.

Counting down to our first on-air appearance, it fell to Micah to transform me into a believable royal. “One upside of having Vlad’s limitless wealth? We were able to hire fashion designers to create these killer looks.”

“Killer. Ha. Vampire pun intended,” I muttered, applying a fresh sheen of gloss to my lips.

Ignoring my stellar display of wit, Mics continued to tighten the ties of my brandy-hued bodice. Thankfully, breathing wasn’t an issue. She made sure there was no room for such a novelty. “Seriously, the way they combined his old-world style with your modern flare is stunning.”

She wasn’t wrong. Beneath the herring bone-lined bodice was a cobalt tunic dress with flowy sleeves that fell off my shoulders. It would have shown off a healthy dose of cleavage, if I had any to speak of. As it was, Mics had to use bronzer to create the illusion of boobs.

After screwing the cap back on the gloss, I dropped it to the vanity counter and met Micah’s gaze in the mirror. “War is raging all around, and here we are fighting it one fashion trend at a time.”

“Sometimes all it takes to flame the desire to rebel is a spark of hope held up from amidst the masses.” Thumbs looped in the pockets of his brown-tweed suit coat, the deep timbre of Vlad’s cadence rumbled from the doorway of the green room. “And, sometimes, that spark is a fetching pair of boots.”

Whoever dressed the Prince of Darkness deserved a fruit basket, and a high-five. His suit fit him like a second skin, showcasing his broad chest before tapering down his sculpted torso. The blue of his tie perfectly matched my dress, tying our looks together with orchestrated ease.

“Look at that,” my words morphed into a grunt as Micah yanked at the laces once more, “the man’s got jokes.”

The corners of Vlad’s sea-foam green eyes crinkled into a charming grin. “My apologies for the interruption. Renfield suggested I come to be … how did he put it? Prepped for the interview. I don’t know if that is actually something of critical importance, but he was quite insistent. Personally, I think it’s his diet that makes him so … intense. Did you know he only allows himself one drop of blood per day? He says that’s how he controls the lure of his hunger.”

One mystery solved, I slapped my hand to the Formica countertop. “That’s why he looks like a dried stick of jerky! He’s like an undead Gandhi!”

“Prepping is a fantastic idea,” Micah silenced me with a sideways glare. “You two need to convince the world you’re in love. Don’t lie about how you met, use the real story. After that, if it helps, think of the greatest love of your life and play off of that.

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