Tired didn’t even begin to cover it. Sleepless nights and unsettling dreams starring a jerk named Gareth with a fine ass made me want to crawl out of my own skin. Fifty miles with Martha and Jane made me want a long vacation or a solid set of earplugs. Dealing with a very soon to be ex-lover was not my idea of a good time—at all.

Who did I screw over in a former life to have to put up with this crap? If I had the ability to sigh, the mother of all sighs would have left my lips.

My nice little breakup chat with Edward had turned into something else altogether.

“Vould you like to explain dis?” Edward hissed in the German accent that at one point I’d mistakenly found appealing. He held a stack of books and waved a note in my face like a lunatic.

What in the ever-loving hell had I been thinking to sleep with the idiot? Boredom—pure and simple—or possibly insanity.

Or maybe loneliness.

Whatever. What was done was done—stupid or not. Now I just needed to rid myself of him. The sex wasn’t good enough to deal with someone who spent more time on his hair than I did. And I was no slouch in the hair department.

“I vill not be disrespected, Venus. You vill treat me as someone of my stature or dis affair is over,” he informed me with a well-plucked brow arched so high I was certain it touched his hairline.

“And what exactly is your stature, Edward?” I asked in a polite tone that sent smart people running for the hills. Furthermore, the affair was already over. Edward just hadn’t clued in yet. And what kind of real man plucked his damn eyebrows?

If he knew me well—or at all—he’d know that me being über polite put him on dangerous ground. Clearly he didn’t know me.

“I’m a varrior,” he informed me in a condescending voice, flipping his artfully messy blond hair off of his face with a flick of his hand.

Warrior, my ass. Astrid had warned me Edward was a weenie, but did I listen? No. I did not listen. He was here in the North American Dominion on a trade from the European Dominion—kind of a Vampyre exchange program. At this point, I was counting the days until he left.

“Dis is unacceptable,” he continued, marching around my suite and wielding the books like weapons.

This Vampyre was treading on very thin ice. He was getting attached and on the verge of being possessive, not to mention rude and annoying. I was not the girl for attached or possessive. I was a free dead woman and he was a dalliance that had been over for weeks—plus he was far too young for me. At only a hundred, Edward was a baby with a tremendous amount of growing up to do. Granted he was pretty, but then again, most Vamps were.

“Dude, it looks to me as if you’re throwing a tantrum over books and a piece of paper,” I replied with my eyes narrowing dangerously.

Edward really didn’t want to get on my bad side this evening. Several hours with Martha and Jane was my limit for bullshit. My fangs tingled in my gums and I kept them from dropping with effort. I was itching for a smackdown with someone and if he kept going, he would definitely do.

“It’s de complete collection of de Twilight series,” he snapped. “I vas not named for Edward in dis piece of trash teenage fiction.”

“I liked the books—very amusing, albeit unrealistic,” I replied easily as I tried not to roll my eyes. “And who said you were named for him?”

“Vell from de vay de note is signed, you did,” he shouted and stomped his foot like a spoiled child. “And de reference to my sparkling tiny man junk is not appreciated.”

“Your sparkling tiny what?” I took the note from him and scanned it while biting down on my lips to hold back my laughter.

Oh. My. God.

My Dearest Edward,

I bequeath you these books because you remind me of the skinny, pale-faced, sparkling fuckhole in the story that slightly passes as literature. The one rather violent and wildly underwritten fornication scene in the tome is far more tantalizing than bedding you.

I’m done shagging you and your tiny sparkling man junk. I’m in the market for a real man with balls larger than chestnuts. The simple fact that I could kick your ass to hell and back with my eyes closed while bound in silver is an extreme turn off.

I’d suggest you take yourself and your overly gelled hair and walk quietly out of my life. You’d be far better off with someone named Bella—or possibly Jacob. After your performance in the bedroom, I’m not exactly certain which team you bat for.

I wish you the very best—for the most part. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.

Auf weidersehen

Venus

“Umm… wow,” I stuttered, impressed that someone had forged my handwriting so flawlessly. Unfortunately, I had a very good idea who had written it. However, what surprised me most was that the culprit had clearly read the entire Twilight series. “I didn’t write this.”

“Of course you did,” Edward accused. “It matches de script in your journal exactly.”

My fangs dropped and my body tensed. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

He did not say he’d read my journal. Unfortunately—for him—the self-satisfied smirk on his face confirmed he had said exactly that. How he had found my journal was suspect. It was locked in my safe along with keepsakes from my human life. If he’d so much as touched my mother’s bible or the lock of my sister’s hair, he was about to find out what permanent death felt like.

“I found your description of killing dos dat you perceived as doing you wrong quite entertaining,” he said with an unapologetic shrug and a chuckle. “And your descriptions of certain members of the Royal Family vere amusing to say de least. Very silly dat you seem to still carry a torch for de one dat turned you. And interesting dat he cared so little for you to never see you again. However, I do find it tragic dat you still harbor so much anger about being a slave. For de love of God, dat was hundreds of years ago. I dink you should get over it.”

If I could breathe, I’d be hyperventilating. If my heart could beat, it would have bounced out of my chest. He’d read my diary, smack talked the kind, beautiful man who’d saved my life and turned me, and made light of the horrors of my human life. The son of a bitch had just played a very bad hand.

“Perceived?” I hissed.

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe you vere treated like an animal—starved, beaten, used,” he shot back.

Since gasping or hurling were out, I chose the next best thing. “Would you like a weapon or would you prefer hand to hand? Honestly, it doesn’t really matter since you’re going down,” I informed him in a voice so soft the idiot had to lean in to hear.

“You are not serious,” he huffed indignantly with an uncomfortable flash of fear in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m very serious. Pick or I’ll choose for you.”

“You are a mere voman,” he insisted in a pompous tone, but backed away in caution. “I am an esteemed visitor from de European Dominion. You vill not touch me.”

“You’re correct, Edvard,” I said flatly. “Touch connotes gentleness and caring—neither of which I feel for you at the moment. I clearly had a temporary mental break to think you were worthy of my time. You are no warrior or man of honor. No self respecting Vampyre with tiny sparkly man junk breaks into a safe and takes what isn’t his. You’re a weenie, just like Astrid said you were, and I’m in the mood to kick your ass to Hell and back.”

“I vas right! You did write de letter!” he shouted, throwing the books at me and picking up my favorite Mackenzie Childs lamp. “And I’m not a veenie.”

I closed my eyes briefly and groaned. I had the worst damned taste in men. Breaking into my safe, reading my journal, and boring me to violence was unfortunate—for his undead lifespan. However, if he hurled my one of a kind lamp at me, he’d leave in pieces. It had lions and fish on it. I loved lions and fish.

“Put it down. Now,” I growled.

“Or vat?” he taunted, clearly realizing he might have a slight upper hand.

“Put it down and I let you leave my suite undead. Break it and you leave for real dead.”

“You dink I’m stupid, don’t you? You used me and I vas having feelings for you. You can do no better dan Edvard. I know you vant dat dying Vampyre Prince,” Edward sneered, carelessly twirling the lamp and grinning widely.

“I have no clue what you’re babbling about,” I lied without batting an eyelash.

The dying Vampyre Prince was none of his business—or mine for that matter.

“Here’s what I do know. Speaking about yourself in third person is all kinds of loser-y. You took what is mine. Reading my journal is lower than scum. You’re holding a one of a kind lamp in your slimy hands right now and I happen to really like that lamp. However,” I added, centering myself and letting my anger go so I wouldn’t be sloppy or break anything in my suite when I busted his ass. “If I find your finger prints on anything else that was in my safe, I will tie you into a knot and hang you by your tiny man junk. Literally.”

The idiot simply grinned and dropped the lamp to the ground. The sound of the glass shattering echoed through my sanctuary. Edvard had just thrown down the gauntlet—or rather the lions and the fish. It was the nicest thing he’d ever done for me. The son of a bitch had just given me permission to release the enormous amount of tension that had been building up inside of me.

Edward had dropped the ball on the goal line and I was going to pick it up and score.

The game was on.

* * *

“Explain to me again how a visiting Vampyre to our compound lost all of his teeth and several limbs?” Ethan inquired, squinting his eyes and running his hand over his mouth.

I couldn’t be sure, but there was a chance he was amused.

“He broke my lamp, my liege,” I mumbled, staring at the ceiling in my Prince’s massive office.

I knew it sounded lame. It was lame. It was lame with a freakin’ cherry on top.

“Oh for shit’s sake,” Astrid groused, tossing aside her fashion magazine and throwing her hands in the air. “Edward’s a loser—a sneaky loser. He’s overstayed his welcome. And he didn’t just break a damn lamp. He broke into her safe and read her journal.”

“He can pick safes?” Ethan asked in a tone that made the hair rise on my neck.

“Apparently,” I told him.

“Did he steal anything?” Ethan picked up his phone and scanned his contacts.

“No. Everything is still there—even my journal. I suppose he read it and put it back.”

“Did you leave the safe open by chance?” Ethan asked the logical question.

“No. Never.”

“Well then, the bastard will be Raquel and Heathcliff’s problem. He’s part of the European Dominion and my sister is back in charge over there,” Ethan said in a clipped tone as he texted his sister.

Ethan was one of the ten ruling Vampyre siblings in the world. He was fair and good, but no one wanted to mess with him. He was as deadly as they came and didn’t ever suffer fools. Ethan was a true champion of our kind. The only thing he loved more than his people was his mate Astrid and his miracle son Samuel.

Edward was in for a world of hurt from Raquel and Heathcliff. Not only was Raquel a badass leader, she was my friend. And forget about her mate, Heathcliff. He was like a brother to me.

“Done,” Ethan said, tossing his phone to his desk. “He’ll be leaving tonight.”

“Not sure he’s in any kind of state to travel,” I said diplomatically. “I went kind of Rambo on him.”

“Well deserved,” Ethan replied with a shrug. “I want him off my property and out of the North American Dominion. He’ll be flown on a jet and dumped at the airport in London.”

“Thank you, sire.” I bowed my head in respect and counted my blessings that I was an Elite Guard for such a wonderful man.

“Are we done with this?” Ethan asked, closing his eyes and clearly communicating with someone in the compound.

“We are,” I said. “Do you need me for anything else?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Please stay, Venus.”

It was almost midnight and my lids were heavy, but if the Prince wanted someone to stay—the Vamp stayed.

At least now I could postpone my dreams.