Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97229 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97229 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“Sorry, sir,” I said, but Hans shook his head with a smile.
“It’s understandable to be distracted by vampires. I’ll forgive you this once, Katherine.”
I felt even more of an idiot for my distraction when I saw the pure perfection of Hans’ teeth rather than fake plastic ones. His beauty didn’t just lie with his teeth, either. His brows were sculpted dark, and his cheeks were angular in the most stunning of ways, and his lips were nicely filled out. Not only that, but he had the lightest green eyes in creation, and it only added to his presence. Striking – that’s one word you could use to describe him. Stunningly striking. Not least because of the gorgeous suit he was wearing. Black tie, white shirt, black tailored jacket. He could have been on his way to a funeral, but it looked great on him.
I was staring mutely at Hans when Frederick arrived back at the bar holding his glass of blood-red wine, and slapped his friend on the back in a friendly greeting. They shook hands and I noticed how lean Hans’ fingers were. His hands were as gorgeous as his face. Strong, yet delicate somehow.
I realised I was staring at fingers not faces when their hellos turned to distant silence, and there I was, being a crappy barmaid all over again.
Both men looked across as I stumbled back to my senses. I met Hans’ eyes, finally giving him the professional barmaid attention he deserved.
“Sorry again, Mr Weyer,” I said. “What would you like to drink?”
“The same for me, please,” he told me, gesturing to Frederick’s glass. “A large merlot.”
“Of course.”
I got straight to it, feeling his stare burning my back as I turned and uncorked a fresh bottle. Maybe it was the approach of Halloween, or Max’s plastic teeth, I didn’t know, but I felt prickles in weird places as I poured the wine.
Frederick was chatting about something with Hans, but his words sounded blurry behind me. All I could feel was the heat of Hans’ green eyes on my back. Turning to face him with his drink in my hand only confirmed he was watching me. I realised I was blushing, and I blushed even more as I handed him his drink.
“Katherine, thank you,” he said with a slight nod of his head.
I wondered again where his accent was from, just as I had done every night that I’d seen him. His voice was fitting of this posh London community, but not quite as British as the other aristocratic bloodlines that usually frequented this bar. His speech was impeccable, his tone low and confident, but different to the others. Hard to place.
It was Frederick doing most of the talking, not Hans, which wasn’t unusual. I busied myself slicing some lemons, trying not to focus on either of them as I pretended I was comfortable in my role, even though I was still trying to find my feet in this new city life I was living. It was hard. Some days harder than others. Some nights harder than ever.
This night felt like one of them.
Frederick was only chatting with Hans for a few short minutes before Benjamin Hastings made his appearance in the doorway.
“Ahh! Ben!” Frederick exclaimed, then went on over to give a good evening as Benjamin hung up his coat. I was left with his strange, beautiful friend at the bar.
“You like vampires, then?” Hans asked me out of the blue, and I gave him a stupid smile.
“Yes, you could say that. I’ve loved vampires since forever.”
I wasn’t lying. I’d been besotted with them for all time. Cartoon vampires as a toddler turned into gothic horror movies as a teenager. I’d even loved a cartoon duck called Count Duckula when I was growing up.
Hans smirked at me. “Which is your favourite?”
“My favourite vampire?” I laughed. “That’s not an entirely fair question. Picking a favourite sure is hard…”
“Go on, at least give it a try,” he pushed. “If you had to pick one single vampire to drink the life out of you, which one would it be?”
I swear my heart skipped a beat, and I burnt up. Hot and bothered.
Hans tipped his head, seeming to notice.
“It is warm in here tonight, isn’t it, Katherine?”
I blinked, wiped my brow, cringed. Shouldn’t have done that. “Warm. Yes.”
“So, your favourite vampire?” he resumed.
“Dracula, of course.”
He laughed a low laugh.
“Which version of him? There must be at least two hundred versions or more. Novels, movies, TV. You must have your favourite.”
“Ok, yes. I have my favourite.” I paused. “Gary Oldman. Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The movie.”
Hans gave a nod of his head as he sipped his wine.
“Good choice. He plays Dracula so very well.”
“Yes, he really does,” I agreed. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Keanu, but seriously. It would be Gary for me, most definitely.”