"Geez, you guys don't have to look at me like that, I was just expressing a polite interest. Wasn't I expressing a polite interest, Joy?"
"No, you were being obnoxious and pushy. You deserve to be snapped at."
"Oh, sure, you take his side. No surprise there, considering you almost had your tongue down his throat a few minutes ago."
"ROXY!"
"Good, here comes the waitress. Has everyone but Stretch here decided what they want?"
I prayed for an earthquake to open the earth up at my feet and swallow me whole. From the martyred look on Raphael's face, he was praying the same thing.
"So, do you live around here?" Roxy asked Christian once we had placed our orders.
He nodded, his fingers tracing the rim of his wineglass. "I do. About a kilometer west of here."
"Really? What do you do?"
"Roxanne!" I slapped at her hand as she was about to snag the last bit of bread.
"What?"
"It's not polite to grill people. I told you almost everyone but Americans find it invasive to question them about their life."
She grinned her pixie grin at him. "Sorry; didn't mean to be rude."
He smiled as he took the piece of bread she offered. Roxy turned to me with her eyebrows lowered. "Am I allowed to talk about myself, or is that also rude?"
I shot Raphael a "what can I do with her?" look. He lifted both eyebrows in return in a manner that seemed to suggest a gag might be effective. I was forced to agree he had a point.
Christian laughed at Roxy's question, the warm sound rolling around the room and covering everything in a soft blanket of silk. "I'm not in the least bit offended by your questions, although I would much rather hear about what brings two such lovely women to a small corner of the Czech Republic."
"A wild goose chase," I muttered.
Roxy ignored me. "Have you ever heard of a local author named Dante?" she asked Raphael and Christian. The former shook his head.
Christian frowned slightly as he toyed with his bread, rubbing crumbs off the crust. "Yes, I have."
"I thought you might; he lives in this area," Roxy continued, digging through her sizeable purse for a copy of the book she was reading. "He writes the most delicious books about Moravians—vampires, you know—and we're dying to meet him. The books are fabulous, utterly, utterly fabulous, with mysterious, dark, brooding heroes to die for. You really should read them—not that you'd find the heroes to die for, since you're men, not unless you're…" She glanced up at Christian and Raphael, then back down into her purse. "You really should read them. There are twelve books out now, and there's supposed to be another one in a few months. Drat, I must have left the book in my room."
Christian's brows rose as he looked from Roxy to myself. I gave him a five for effort—he was good, but he couldn't hold a candle to the Browmaster sitting opposite me. Raphael was leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed, a pained expression on his face. I couldn't figure out if he was bored with the conversation or the company. He certainly wasn't contributing much to the conversation. I wondered why, if he was so unhappy, he'd agreed to sit with us; then I wondered why I cared. Just because I was the teensiest bit attracted to the man didn't mean I had to like him.
I shot a look at him from under my lashes. He watched me through half-closed eyes, his expression making blood rush to all sorts of interesting spots on my body. My question as to why he was bothering with us was answered by the interest that flared deep within the glittering slivers of amber.
Christian listened as Roxy recapped the plot of the latest book, continuing to toy with what remained of his bread, looking a bit askance at Roxy's enthusiasm. Raphael glanced at his watch, which prompted me to shut Roxy up and turn the conversation to something that might interest him.
"I really don't think they care about the books, Rox."
"On the contrary," Raphael spoke up. "I'm finding it a fascinating look at what women feel are missing from their lives."
"Missing? What do you mean, missing?" I asked.
He rubbed a finger along his jaw, his lips donning an insufferably smug look. "From what Roxy says, women are the primary readers of these books."
"Yeah, so?"
"And they feature male characters who are dominant and aggressive, especially toward women?"
"They're called alpha males, and what of it?"
A slight smile quirked his lips. "You needn't get so defensive; I was merely pointing out that books whose readership is predominantly female, featuring aggressive male characters and including what I assume are numerous scenes of a licentious nature—"
"Licentious?" I gasped. How dare he say that about Dante's fabulous, romantic, sensual, erotic books?
"I bet you're one of those men who likes to feel superior to women," Roxy said suspiciously.
Christian turned a laugh into a cough. Raphael and I ignored both of them.
"—can only indicate that the books strike a chord with their readers, fulfilling a need, if you will, unmet in their everyday lives."
"Well, look who has a psychology degree," I snorted, and damning the calories, slathered fresh butter on my piece of bread.
"Bristol University, 1992," he agreed.
"Oh. Sorry." I ate crow in the form of my bread.
"I'm not." Roxy shot him a squinty eyed glare. "I think he's one of the alpha males he's so quick to damn."
"You tell me, then," Raphael offered, leaning backward on the back legs of the chair, his hands locked behind his head, "what it is you both find so attractive in these books."
I looked between him and Christian, wondering if they were just humoring me again.
"Please," the latter said, brushing bread crumbs from his shirt, and giving me an encouraging grin. I thought something flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly gone. "I am just as interested as Raphael. Are the men such as you described the type to interest you, personally?"
"A man like one of Dante's heroes?" Roxy asked.
He nodded.
"Ooooh," she squealed, "yes! Yes!"
"Not on your life," I answered at the same time. "They're fun in fiction, but I imagine real alpha males are the absolute pits to live with. They've got all those arrogance and domination issues, not to mention being obstinate, pigheaded, and determined to rule everyone's lives. Alpha males are not what women are looking for in a man." I smiled pointedly at Raphael.
"Don't listen to her, she's got no spirit. You have to understand, these heroes aren't just alpha males, they're Moravians. Dark Ones. Vampires."
Raphael rolled his eyes. Christian smiled, waiting until the waitress set down our meals before continuing. "I would have thought most people would find vampirism an experience they would not wish to explore in any depth, let alone consider it an asset in a mate."
"You're dead wrong there," Raphael said before Roxy could dispute Christian. "I've been with the GothFaire only four weeks, but they've made a small fortune at each of their stops. Some people come for the bands they hire, others come for the novelty of a traveling fair, but most are young people who want to be a part of the Goth community."
"Goth?" Christian asked him.
"It stands for Gothic, supposedly a society devoted to the dark side of life. Vampires, necromancers, morbid poetry and loud, grating music… anything that can be classified as strange and unusual. From what I've seen, the stranger and more unusual a person or thing, the more successful it'll be at the fair."
"Poseurs," Roxy said.
"Dominic," I offered.
"Exactly," he agreed with both of us.
"You do not believe that Dominic and company are what they claim, then?" Christian asked.