By Freda Warrington
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Additional info for A Taste of Blood Wine (Blood Wine Book 01)
It was beauty and personality combined with an inexplicable aura, a luminosity that drew the attention and held it—almost like an actor on film, silver light and shadowy darkness, hypnotic. His charisma intimidated her, confused her, terrified her. While Henry was all life and activity, it was Karl's dark, still grace that seemed to fill the room. Charlotte had decided in advance how she would behave towards Karl. She was distant, polite and completely professional; it was the only way she could cope.
Oh. " The French vampire's eyes narrowed. "You're wrong. I haven't seen Karl for years. " There was the merest touch of shiftiness in Pierre's face. Kristian tightened his grip. "Don't lie to me. Ilona told me you know where he is. " "No—you've got it wrong. " Kristian did so and Pierre relaxed, gasping and holding his injured arm. The wounds were already beginning to heal. "It's Ilona who's lying. She knows, not me! " "This is no game. " Pierre steadied himself. "Ilona always makes it her business to know where Karl is.
Small consolation that her father had secured him lodgings in the town rather than offering him a room—possibly with Madeleine's virtue in mind. Yet Karl could really do no wrong for her father. He was delighted with the way Karl worked; his intense concentration, faultless observation, his swift absorption of everything he was told. But to Charlotte there was something unnatural about it. Sometimes Karl and her father had long philosophical discussions in which Karl said the strangest things, probing, it seemed, for some kind of arcane and sinister revelation that would unleash a nightmare if it were ever spoken.
A Taste of Blood Wine (Blood Wine Book 01) by Freda Warrington