Rare Vintage

Marc LaTour is the Master vampire. Kelly is the new Gal Friday at the winery her best friend and her new husband own. Marc is obsessed with Kelly, though he doubts he could be so lucky as to finally find his One after over six hundred years of searching. Still, he reacts with jealousy when his old friend and fellow Master comes for a visit.

When upstart vampire in Marc's territory issues a challenge to Marc's leadership, it will be a fight to the death, but Marc knows he has much to live for... if Kelly turns out to be his One.

CHAPTER ONE
Kelly sat back in her office chair, staring at the computer screen. A heavy sigh ruffled the wisps of hair fringing her forehead. Things at the vineyard had been in upheaval since the Master vampire of the region, Marc LaTour, had moved in. Well, at least for her.
The blasted man seemed to be there every time she turned around, watching her with those dark, mysterious, ancient eyes. Since she worked in the evenings to be on call during most of the hours when her best friend, Lissa, and her new husband, Atticus, needed her, she had precious few moments of daylight when Marc couldn’t corner her.
Just last night he’d dangled that damned yellow Lamborghini in front of her again, revving the engine as he brought it out of the mansion’s twelve-bay garage.
“Just taking your car for a spin, ma petite,” he’d called to her from the driver’s seat. “Wouldn’t you like to join me?”
“No, thank you.” She’d been as firm as possible and turned away as he laughed. The hardest part was she’d have loved to take a drive in the expensive machine. It was the man she needed to avoid if she wanted to keep her sanity.
She’d heard the sports car roar down the driveway a minute later. Marc infuriated her. He’d attempted to give her the car as a gift, which she’d flatly refused, but he persisted. He was like a dog with a bone, and she was the one whose nerves were being chewed on.
Kelly had moved in to one of the many guest rooms at the mansion a few weeks after Atticus and Lissa were married. Her lease on a small apartment in the city had come up for renewal, and she took the opportunity to move out. She’d never enjoyed the hour-long commute each way from the city to the vineyard. She’d been working for Lissa and Atticus since shortly before their wedding as the couple’s assistant. It made sense for her to move into the mansion where she worked and one of her best friends lived. They certainly had plenty of room in the grand building.
Things had rolled along well until Marc showed up with the yellow sports car and a suitcase in tow. Marc had apparently decided, in his high-handed way, that he needed to move in with his friends while his own house was being renovated. Atticus and Marc were long-time associates and close friends.
They were also both immortal.
They’d known each other longer than Kelly had been alive. Centuries, in fact. It still boggled her mind to think that her best friend, Lissa, was now as immortal as her new husband. The thought of living forever was intriguing—even mildly tantalizing—but not practical for Kelly. Just the thought of drinking blood made her shiver. No, she preferred to live a normal life without the need to drink blood. Well, as normal as it could be when one of her best friends was a vampire.
Kelly returned to work, whiling away the hours until sunset when Lissa and Atticus would awaken. Marc, too, unfortunately. Not that he was unattractive. In fact, he was one of the most devastatingly handsome men she’d ever met, but he was way out of her league.
She sat back, staring at the screen again, lost in thought. Kelly jumped when a breath of warm air sizzled past her ear.
It was Marc, of course. He was hovering close, just over her shoulder. She could feel him, though he hadn’t made a sound as he approached. Only now did she hear his slow breaths and the deliberate way he inhaled her scent as if he was smelling a rare perfume.
“I thought they made it clear to you that I’m not a snack.”
“Mmm, I quite agree.” He dipped his head lower, his stubbly cheek rubbing along her neck, raising goose bumps. “I imagine you’d be a full seven-course meal.” He punctuated his words by licking the sensitive skin just over her rapidly beating jugular. “Ah, l’aparatif c’est marvelieux. A very satisfying feast for the senses at that.”
The man had licked her! She could hardly believe it. She was barely suppressing shivers that wanted to course down her spine. It was devastating to realize they were shivers of excitement, not revulsion.
This had to stop. The man was a steamroller and if she wasn’t careful, she’d end up flat. Flat on her back, that is, with him possessing every last inch of her body, her blood and her sanity.
“Mr. LaTour!” She twirled her rolling office chair around, making him move back. “For the last time, I’m not on the menu.”
His dark gaze blazed down at her, humor in its depths. “My proper title is Master, but you can call me Marc, ma cherie.”
She rolled her eyes, putting on a brave front. “I call no man master.”