Drop Dead Single (Monstrana Paranormal Romance 1)

Cate looked up from her personal misery to find herself suddenly staring into a pair of intense amber eyes. Prince Viktor was gazing at her, his lips parted as if to say something. Something stirred deep within her gut, like a warm spark. Fighting off the unwelcome feeling, she returned his stare with as much intensity as she could muster.

He might be a prince, and a sexy one at that, but she was no mere woman who’d melt at his feet. She wasn’t going to be intimidated.

Not by the likes of him.

Chapter Four

MARCHING STRAIGHT INTO the dining room, Viktor didn’t leave room for pleasantries. He’d just had an awkward first dinner with all three of his suitors and a foul mood had settled over him. He threw his hands into the air and planted himself beside Stasia’s chair.

“Do you want to tell me what that was?”

She looked up at him and finished chewing the piece of steak in her mouth. “What?”

“That crazy mess.” He pointed out the door, his eyes widening. “That media circus. You promised me this was going to be simple. No drama. That was anything but simple.”

Laughter caught his attention. Maxim and Renata Pavlosky, Stasia’s nineteen-year-old twin werewolf siblings, were stuffing their faces with quail and watching his breakdown very intently. Thankfully, both were fully clothed at the moment, although werewolves tended to be comfortable shedding their clothes anywhere. Their parents were both gone at the moment; overseas for some werewolf outreach event in the middle of Africa. Which meant more trouble than usual from the pair.

Maxim had shaggy dishwater hair that fell into his eyes and a snarky smile. His sister, Renata, was just as sassy with her long blonde hair, electric blue streaks, and disapproving eye-roll. They stuck their heads together and whispered, pointing at the distressed vampire prince. Viktor snarled at the two of them, flashing his fangs, which only drew more laughter.

“I don’t know what you’re so upset about.” Stasia drew the chair out next to her and patted the seat. “There were just a few cameras and a crew. We opened it up to the public to get some buzz. Your grandmother said she wanted good press for you. That’s what we did.”

He sunk into the chair with a groan. “I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this. It’s embarrassing. What other seven-hundred-year-old needs his babushka to find dates for him?”

She grinned, her eyes sparkling. “I’m not sure there’s a big enough sample size for a questionnaire like that. Not many seven-hundred-year-olds running around the world.”

He placed a hand on his forehead. “You know what I mean.”

“Relax. Take a deep breath.”

Relaxation was the furthest thing possible right now. Not when somewhere in this castle, lounged three women intent on claiming him as their own. What a joke. He wouldn’t have been so riled up if only that woman hadn’t showed up again. The maid. Only she wasn’t a maid. She was one of his suitors, here for fortune, fame, and who knew what else?

He hated the way the very sight of her made him feel fuzzy, as if he’d drunk the blood of a man on absinthe. It wasn’t like she was Aphrodite rising from the sea. She had her flaws. Her eyes were a little too large for her face and her nose just a little on the flat side. And that attitude. She could flay him alive with the venom in her gaze.

But despite her flaws, he couldn’t take his eyes off her at the opening ceremony. Something about her drew him in, made him want to feel her soft skin beneath his fingertips. All the very best predators in nature had the same magnetic trait. After all, the most beautiful flowers tended to be the most poisonous. And that woman was danger.

“Let’s just dial down the drama, please,” he begged his dearest friend. “I don’t want to become a laughing stock for the entire country. I am a prince, the next in line for the throne. If my people don’t respect me, how am I supposed to rule?”

Sympathy reflected in her eyes as she patted his shoulder. “There’s no way you’ll lose the respect of your people, Vik. You’ve worked too long and too hard on their behalf.”

The public were fickle, as Viktor knew only too well. Stasia was much younger and impressionable. She had no idea of the possible outcomes. Her life was all rainbows and butterflies, where nothing bad could happen. He knew better.

“I wish my grandmother hadn’t pushed this on me. We wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t insisted on this,” he grumbled as he stole a potato off Stasia’s plate, plopped it in his mouth and made a face. “Ugh, these are awful. Don’t you have any blood bags nearby?”

She ignored his jab at her meal. “Queen Anna just wants to see you settled. Some day you’ll be king and you’ll need a queen. She wants you to be prepared for when the time comes.”

His lips formed a dark scowl. “It’ll be many more centuries before that happens. I’m not sure why she’s in such a rush.”

Stasia stared at him for a full thirty seconds, studying his face.

“What?” he demanded, stealing another potato.

Something about today made him want to stress eat. Or gorge himself on some perfectly ripened 98.6 degree type O negative blood. But vampire kind had become sophisticated as of late and left the barbaric throat-tearing ways behind them. Blood from unknowing donors was the meal of the day, no matter how little that satisfied his overwhelming thirst.

“Are you sure King Borwin is handling his condition?” she asked. “He did look a little frail today behind the cameras.”

He shrugged. His grandfather had come down with a case of blood poisoning many years ago — one of the only debilitating diseases a vampire could catch. But he’d handled it just fine up to now. “You know he’s always locked in his office these days. Doesn’t get out during the night to exercise. The man isn’t wasting away, Stasia.”

“Okay, fine.” She returned his shrug. “But, you can’t blame your grandmother for her concern. She just wants what’s best for you and the entire kingdom.”