Single White Vampire (Argeneau #3)(47)
Kate considered the question. Unfortunately, Lucern was rather taciturn at the best of times. At the moment, he was silent as stone. She opened her mouth to offer an excuse for his silence, then just as promptly changed her mind. They had wanted him here; she had got him. Perhaps if they weren't happy with his performance, they wouldn't make her pester him in the future. She merely shrugged and said, "Not much."
Chuck didn't seem pleased. Kate didn't care. It was the truth, and she couldn't be held responsible for Lucern's nature. Her gaze slid to the writer again. Chris was talking, and Lucern was nodding dully. There were lines of tension around his eyes that worried her. It made her wonder if he was in a lot of pain. She immediately began trying to think of a way to get him blood—and more blood than the pint he'd said it would be safe for her to give him. She briefly considered finding him a lineup of victims to bite, but as much as she enjoyed the idea of putting Chuck at the front of the line, there was no one else she wanted to feed to him.
Kate was still pondering the problem when the plates were cleared from the tables and the awards ceremony began. She listened halfheartedly as the nominees were named for each category, followed by the winner. Kate clapped when the others did, but she was mostly lost in thought.
"And the final nominee is Luke Amirault's Love Bites."
Kate jerked upright in her seat as Luc's pseudonym was called out. She wasn't at all surprised that Lucern was doing much the same thing next to her. She'd forgotten to tell him that his book was nominated in three different categories. She winced when he turned an accusing glare on her.
"You're nominated. That doesn't mean you'll win," Kate said soothingly.
"And the winner is… Luke Amirault for Love Bites!"
"Merde," Lucern muttered.
"Shit," Kate echoed in English. She hesitated for a moment, but when Lucern showed no sign of getting up, she leaned toward him to explain, "You have to go up and get your award."
"I don't want to."
Kate felt her heart squeeze at the childlike complaint. Six hundred years old and he still sounded like a baby. Men were the same no matter the species… or was it race? Whatever. Catching his elbow in her hand, she stood abruptly, forcing him up with her. "Neither do I. So we'll do it together."
Much to her relief, he allowed her to force him to his feet and then toward the stage at the far end of the room. People were clapping and calling out congratulations, some yelling they really enjoyed his books. Lucern seemed oblivious to it all. The skin on his face was tight, his expression almost pained as he walked doggedly forward. Kate couldn't decide if it was due to hunger or a reaction to being the center of attention. She knew he must hate this sort of thing. She'd learned of his reclusive ways while in Toronto. And if she hadn't caught on after three days in his company, his mother and sister had revealed a lot about him at the wedding.
Kathryn Falk, Lady Barrow—the woman behind Romantic Times Book Club Magazine, the conference, and various other concerns—was waiting on stage to present the award herself. She smiled widely as Kate and Lucern mounted the steps to the podium; then concern flickered on her face as she noted their odd behavior. Kate tried for a brighter smile to reassure the woman, but she could have used a little reassurance herself. Lucern wasn't the speech-making sort, and some sort of speech would be expected.
"Congratulations, Mr. Amirault," Lady Barrow said as she handed over the award. "I've very much enjoyed your vampire series."
Lucern grunted, took the award and started to walk offstage. Kate gaped after him, then muttered under her breath and hurried after him to catch him by the arm.
"You have to say thank-you," she hissed, urging him back toward Lady Barrow and the podium.
"I don't want to."
Kate frowned at the weakness in his voice. She almost preferred his "No's" and had to wonder just how much the lack of blood could affect his mind. If she didn't find him some blood soon, might he lose it entirely and just go nuts? She cringed at the idea.
"Just say thank-you," she ordered grimly, steering him to the podium.
"Is he all right?" Lady Barrow asked in a whisper as Lucern paused in front of the microphone. He stared blankly out at the sea of faces. Kate wondered if the crowd looked like a feast of steaks to him, then nodded.
"Jet lag," she lied.
"Are you sure that's all?" Kathryn looked doubtful, so Kate added, "And a bit of a tummy flu, I think." Then she gave in, admitting, "He isn't at all well."
"Oh, dear," Lady Barrow murmured.
"But we're hoping it passes quickly," she assured the woman. "We might miss the cover model reunion to go to the doctor."
"Doctor? At night?"
"It was the earliest appointment we could get," Kate lied.
"Oh." Lady Barrow shook her head, then seemed to realize that Lucern had been standing silently at the microphone for several moments. The room had fallen into an expectant hush.
Kate moved to his side and gave him a nudge. "Say thank-you."
"Thank you," he said dutifully. It was a rather ungrateful growl. And he immediately stepped back after saying it. Kate cringed, but Lady Barrow saved the day by stepping up between them and catching his arm. She urged him forward again, then took control of the microphone and said, "Ladies… and gentlemen." She added the last with a grin toward the table of male models, the only males present other than the handful of male publishing personnel and the occasional writer's husband. "As you can see from his pallor, Mr. Amirault isn't feeling well, but he insisted on attending today's ceremony to thank you all for your support." She allowed a moment to pass for that to sink in, then continued, "I for one am grateful he showed up. Let's all give him a round of applause and thank him for his wonderful stories. Thank you, Luke."