Single White Vampire (Argeneau #3)(38)

"Oh." Chris made a face. "Lucern is a dairy company here in the States."

"A dairy company?"

"Yeah, you know—milk, cottage cheese, ice cream," Chris explained in exasperation.

"I know what dairy products are," Lucern said testily. "But I am not named after dairy products."

"So what are you named for?"

"The lake in Switzerland where I was conceived."

Chris nodded. "I think I've heard of it. But doesn't Lake Lucerne have an e on the end?"

"Yes, well… I think my mother thought the e made the name feminine. She took it off."

"Ah." Chris nodded again. "It's a cool name. Don't let what Kate said bother you. She's just a little testy lately. Working too hard or something." He gestured to the pizza box on the table. "Is there any left?"

Lucern leaned over and saw that there were still two slices of the meat-eater's special they'd ordered. He took one, then handed the box to Chris.

Besides television, pizza was something else he'd never tried. It wasn't something served in the gourmet restaurants he frequented. Lucern was beginning to think that his snobby ways had been making him miss out on many pleasures he might truly enjoy. He had never been a great fan of beer, but it had a nice bite to it with pizza. It went even better with the peanuts Chris had run out to buy. It had been kind of fun, too, cracking the peanut shells and strewing them all over the place.

Lucern peered at the coffee table with interest. It was awash in empty beer cans, peanut shells, used paper plates and napkins. He had at first tried to clean up as they ate, his fastidious nature kicking in, but Chris had told him to just stop, he was blocking the TV. Now Lucern found himself rather comfortable amid the mess.

His gaze slid curiously to his companion. Kate's editor friend was an interesting fellow, mostly good-tempered but with a caustic wit at odds with his youth. Lucern had learned the man was in his late twenties—a babe to his own advanced years, though the editor would probably resent him thinking so. Despite that, Lucern was enjoying his company.

He had, though, found himself looking at the man's neck a lot the last hour or so. Now that he had eaten regular food, and satisfied his more natural hunger, the missing blood delivery was beginning to gnaw at Lucern. He had called Bastien twice from his bedroom but got no answer either time. His brother was never home! But that was Bastien's nature.

His younger brother worked hard, played hard, and ran on staggered hours, sometimes braving the day to work, sometimes working nights at the family company. Bastien was the son who had taken up the reins of Argent, Inc. after their father's death. Lucern had never been interested. He'd always preferred the arts, alternating between painting and writing the last couple hundred years.

In contrast, Bastien had always enjoyed the wheeling and dealing of business. The boy had worked in the family company most of his adult life, and he was good at it. Bastien was the one who had convinced their father to diversify from farming and shipping to production in the eighteenth century. He was also the one who had decided they should move into feeding from blood banks. Bastien was an innovative thinker.

He was also damned hard to keep track of. The family business often took him on unexpected trips to foreign countries for indefinite periods. Lucern often couldn't be sure of where his younger brother was or when he would be back. Bastien might simply have been out to dinner when he called, or he might be on his way to Europe to handle a problem at the head offices. Whatever the case, he would get Lucern's message and return the call sooner or later. But Lucern was hungry now.

His gaze slid to Chris's throat again. The editor had a good healthy pulse. Lucern could probably get a pint out of him without harming the fellow. Of course, it would be alcohol-soaked blood, he realized unhappily. And his own blood had a goodly portion of alcohol in it already. He frowned, but his gaze stayed fixed on the other man's neck. Chris laughed at something that had happened on the latest Black Adder skit. Lucern didn't look toward the television; he hungered.

The craving for blood was nothing like that for food. It was somewhat similar to thirst, but wasn't just a dry mouth. It affected his whole body. His skin seemed to be shriveling and aching with want of nourishment.

He knew it wouldn't be as bad right now if he hadn't been out in the sun. The walk from the car into the airport had been a short one, but the airport was all glass and he'd had an aisle seat on the plane. So he'd been unable to close the window shade. He had been stuck with the sun shooting in the window and striking him. The sun was dangerous to his sort. It caused damage in everyone, of course, people of his own race and humans, too. But his body, his blood, was constantly repairing that and other daily damages, and the sun's rays could do a lot, using up his reserves at an accelerated pace and leaving him dangerously dehydrated, bringing a thirst that no amount of water would cure. Only blood.

"What are you doing?"

Chris's question made Lucern realize that he had stood and moved around behind the other man. The editor twisted in his seat, peering back at him curiously.

Nothing. I am sitting on the couch. Watch the show, Lucern commanded, slipping inside the man's mind with little effort and taking control.

"Watch the show," the editor echoed, and turned back in his seat.

Lucern smiled. He hadn't lost the ability to slip inside another's mind and take control. His inability to do so with Kate had made him worry that he had forgotten how. He hadn't, of course. Which meant that Kate was one of those strong-minded and strong-willed individuals his mother swore were the…