Merry Christmas to all my readers. Here is an extract from the upcoming Cassandra Farbanks novel - Venetian Moon
As I turned I was thrown and embarrassed because the figure behind me was not who I expected to see. The man behind me was most certainly a vampire and he was in blue as well but much paler than Jareth’s. His mask was that of a white cat with sleek silver whiskers and his hair fell in curls of burnished gold to at least his biceps. What I could see of his face, he had a smooth oval face and his lips were perfectly shaped like a bow. There was something compelling about him and I felt flustered.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
His lips curved into a smile.
“Indeed. You thought I was Jareth. How is Jareth?” His voice was like silk, lightly accented with soft French, not at all like the rude voice of the man who had insulted me. It was a voice I could imagine whispering in the darkness to lure young maidens from their beds or to his. It was a voice that made me shiver.
“He’s just inside, you can ask him yourself.”
I took a step towards the door needing to escape but he mirrored me, keeping me backed against the railing. There was something predatory and seductive in the way he held himself – I imagine he was a very proud hunter. His cat mask made a little more sense.
“Aren’t you going to thank me?” he asked stepping closer. “For my help? You were obviously in some distress.”
“I said thank you,” I replied trying to gauge if I could get around him but trying to out move a vampire was something I had not yet mastered and if I could, it would certainly give away that I was more than I appeared.
“Ah,” he said reaching out and somehow without touching me, he got me to lift my chin to look at him directly, “but that was when you thought I was Jareth. I want you to thank me as me.” I placed both my hands on the stone behind me and looked over my shoulder. If push came to shove, it wasn’t that far to the ground. This vampire was older than Jareth. A great deal older. I could feel it humming off of him in waves, he was exuding it, he wanted me to feel it. It was probably not a good idea to force a confrontation but fleeing might also be an insult. I decided just to give him what he wanted and perhaps he would let me pass. I opened my mouth to say thank you again but he places one cool finger to my lips and I was silenced.“I have not told you yet how I wish you to thank me.”