Free (Glory St Clair 11) Real Vampires Say Read My Hips by Gerry Bartlett

explosion or at least the crackling and smell of fire after a lightning bolt hit the wooden door. The silence and lack of action almost scared me more than if Mars had lost his cool. I looked up and met the frightened gazes of half a dozen handmaidens. Of course they’d heard the whole thing. One of them sucked it up and came forward.
    “You’d better lie down, mistress. If we lay the blame on a brain seizure, surely he will forgive your outburst.” She led me to the bed and helped me take off my sandals. Another handmaiden pulled back the covers while a third laid a cool cloth on my forehead. They all looked worried, wringing their hands and whispering among themselves.
    What would happen if Mars burst into the room and took out his anger on them? I ordered them out of the room, relieved when they scurried away through yet another set of doors I’d never noticed before. Then I closed my eyes and waited. When nothing happened, I guess I fell asleep, thinking maybe I’d won the first round. But when I woke up I was still in Olympus and my parents were standing over me, determined looks on their faces. Somehow I knew I wasn’t going to like what they had to say.
     
     

Chapter 4
     
    I was about to throw back the covers and confront them when I realized I wasn’t wearing anything. I’d dreamed I was with Jerry last night. It had been pretty hot. Great that I could dream at all—vamps couldn’t do that--and now I realized I must be able to change or lose my clothing in my sleep. Freaky.
    “Could you give me a minute? I’d like to get dressed, brush my teeth and maybe, I don’t know, wake up?” It was clear from the looks on their faces that they were going to try to bully me into staying here. I had to persuade them to let me go home. For a moment I panicked. On the power-o-meter, I was a one and they were off the charts.
    “Gloriana, relax. We can certainly read your thoughts.” My mother smiled, obviously deciding to try a softer approach. “Mars, let’s go into her sitting room and have breakfast while our daughter pulls herself together. Don’t make us wait long, darling.” She hooked her arm through her lover’s, pulling him from the bedside.
    “Don’t think to make a run for it, Gloriana. There’s nowhere to hide up here and no one who will help you.” Mars lifted my mother’s hand from his arm. Oh, still mad at her. “We’ll wait for ten minutes then we’ll be back.” The commander had issued his orders.
    I saluted, refusing to say another word. He scowled, then stomped off toward yet another set of double doors. I guess I did have a sitting room. First I’d heard of it. A handmaiden rushed to me with a robe as soon as they were out of sight and the doors closed behind them.
    “Thanks. Guess I don’t have time for one of those great soaking tub baths.” I did love my new bathroom. I rushed through cleaning up and putting myself into some kind of order. It took me longer to pick out an outfit than it did to slap on makeup. So many designers, so little time. I settled on a wonderful Pucci print sheath and Prada pumps that fit like a dream. I stopped in front of the mirror. I looked like a goddess. Too bad I didn’t feel like I had a snowball’s chance at winning points in the pissing contest to come.
    “Come, sit. Look at these lovely pastries. You can eat whatever you wish and it won’t show on your new waistline, Gloriana. Isn’t that wonderful?” My mother handed me a piece of brioche slathered in butter when I got to the breakfast table in my sitting room.
    I didn’t say anything, just savored both the info and the taste. Whoever cooked up here was a genius. But, God, I missed my fangs. I couldn’t even smell my parents’ blood from across the table, just my mother’s delicate perfume and the aroma of all that food. Mars was all man, no flirty perfume for him, but he was clean and reeked of leather and whatever his servants used to polish his silver belt buckle.
    After