Be Still My Vampire Heart(43)

"Aye, and he's been a coward ever since," Connor added with twinkling eyes.

 

Angus gave his old Scottish friend an annoyed look while everyone laughed.

 

Ian marched into the room with a tray full of drinks. He set the tray on the coffee table and handed a glass of ice water to Shanna, then a glass of wine to the priest. All the Vamps helped themselves to an empty glass.

 

Connor grabbed the bottle of Blissky and poured himself a drink. "Grand stuff, Roman."

 

He passed the bottle to Gregori.

 

Gregori filled his glass to the brim, then passed the bottle to Angus.

 

"I'm glad you like it." Roman accepted the bottle next, then passed it on to Ian. Connor stood, raising his glass in the air. "To Shanna, Roman, and the bairn. May ye be healthy and happy."

 

Everyone murmured in agreement and drank.

 

"What have you been up to, Angus?" Shanna asked. "We heard you went on a picnic."

 

The male Vamps snickered.

 

Angus glared at them. "It was business. I've been trying to talk sense into the vampire slayer."

 

Connor snorted. "Talk sense to a female? That's doomed from the beginning."

 

Shanna huffed. "Excuse me."

 

"Begging yer pardon." Connor raised a hand in peace. "Unfortunately, this particular female works for yer father, and I'm certain he's poisoned her mind against us."

 

"Probably so." Shanna nodded, then turned to Angus. "Would you like me to talk to her? She might listen to another mortal."

 

"I'm doing fine," Angus grumbled. "I can handle it."

 

"There's no reason for ye to do it alone," Connor said.

 

Angus shot him an irritated look. "I'm doing well. We made a great deal of progress tonight."

 

Gregori snorted with laughter. "Yeah, we heard. She was barefoot and half—ouch." He glared at Connor, who'd elbowed him in the ribs.

 

"Did ye convince her to stop slaying?" Connor asked.

 

Angus shrugged. "Somewhat. She trusts me now." He glanced down to make sure his long coat covered up the bulge in his pants. His erection had gone down quite a bit, but the jeans were still uncomfortably tight. He should have worn his kilt.

 

"There's something different about you." Roman studied Angus. "I know. You're not carrying your claymore. That's highly unusual."

 

Angus shrugged. "I could hardly convince her I mean no harm if I was armed."

 

"Well, I think it's sweet," Shanna announced. "A picnic in Paris in the spring. Very romantic. I'm proud of you."

 

Angus gulped down some Blissky, too aware of the amused glances from the male Vamps in the room.

 

"Are you injured?" Father Andrew gestured to Angus's wrist, which was still red and raw with welts.

 

"I had an encounter with a pair of silver handcuffs," Angus grumbled. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

 

Gregori sat forward, his eyes twinkling. "She handcuffed you? Boy, she's hot."

 

Angus glowered at him.

 

Connor frowned. "That doesna sound like progress to me."

 

"I think you should let me talk to her," Shanna insisted.

 

"No." Roman shook his head. "If you arrange a meeting with Miss Wallace, she might let your father know, and he would try to kidnap you."

 

Shanna sighed.

 

"Roman's right," Angus said. "Emma told me that rescuing you is your father's top priority. She's starting to trust me, but that trust is verra new. She only learned tonight about the difference between Vamps and Malcontents, and she's still struggling with the idea that some of us can be decent folk."

 

"You know what, guys?" Gregori set his drink on the table. "This is a marketing problem."

 

Angus scoffed. "I'm no' selling anything."

 

"But you are," Gregori insisted. "You're trying to sell the idea that good Vamps really do exist. The problem is, we don't have a product name to differentiate ourselves from the bad vampires."

 

"But we are vampires," Angus countered. "And I doona claim to be good."

 

"But you have a good heart," Father Andrew said. "There is a world of difference between you and a Malcontent."

 

"I think Gregori's on to something." Shanna sipped her ice water. "The Malcontents have a name, the True Ones. Why don't you guys have a name, too?"

 

"Hmm." Gregori lounged back against the sofa cushions. "A name." He contemplated the ceiling with narrowed eyes. "How about Nonbiters? Bottle Guzzlers? Friendly Fangsters? Ouch! That was my foot." He glared at Connor.