Rosario Vampire Gin Novels & Stories

I led her into the cave which was beautifully adorned with several flowers and ornaments. “It’s beautiful” she whispered as I pulled her close to my chest. “But not as beautiful as you are” I replied, kissing her lightly on the lips before we sat down. “Why are we here?” She asked, looking around as I poured out wine from the pitcher into our cups “I don’t take blood” she said, scrunching her nose in disgust as I chuckled a bit. “Don’t worry,I can’t give you blood, you’re not a vampire” I assured and noticed her expression relax.

“Drink up, you sissy!” Giana laughs, sipping at the straw of her way-too-strong bloody mary. I just cough, looking askance at mine. “G, this is like 90% vodka, 5% tomato juice, and the rest is horseradish. Honestly, it’s basically clear.” “I am freshly a widow, Iris,” Giana says, even as she laughs. “You are not allowed to critique my bartending skills – it is rude, this is part of my grieving process.”

Actually, just watching him at it made me harder than I can describe and if he had gone at it even for a moment longer, I would have cum even without being stimulated. If he wanted us to fuck Lysa together as we sandwiched her between us, I would gladly do it. I watch as Lysa pours us wine and I take my glass with that smile that I always know would undo her and she then hands Sky his. I take a sip and this wine has always been too sweet and fruity for my taste and I only buy it because it's Lysa's favorite. For me, at a moment like this, I would prefer dry gin or tequila. They heat me up quickly and make me wild.

He went to the liquor cabinet and poured a good measure of whiskey into two glasses, to which he added some ice and handed one to me. “You expect me to waltz into his villa, take him out and stroll out of there like nothing happened?” Apparently, my sarcasm was lost on him. “See, you make it seem so simple. It really could be, if you plan it right.” He clinked his glass against mine. “My dear boy, I don’t care how you do it. Just get rid of Mario Rossi. He’s the devil in an old man’s disguise.” “And I suppose you’re an angel?” The whiskey left a burning trail down my throat, warming my churning insides.

Then, he finally answered. "Tempest's Kiss." Bianca raised a brow. "Never heard of it." A faint smirk played on his lips as he leaned back slightly, resting his forearm on the bar. "That's because it's not a common drink. It's a mix of absinthe and a Dark and Stormy." Her interest piqued. "Absinthe and rum?"

“Sorry.” “Are we doing this again?” I asked, voice low. He swallowed. “That fast, huh?” I folded my arms. “Spark isn’t always a fast burn. Sometimes it smolders.” He picked up the jar. “Smolder, huh?” I shrugged. “That’s not a bad start.” He set the jar down carefully. “Tea?” I shook my head. “Wine, maybe.” He laughed softly. “Make it two.” I pulled half a bottle from behind the counter. Not fancy, but enough for tonight.

I looked at the label and felt something warm and unexpected bloom in my chest. Château Rosaire. A small-batch red from a vineyard in the south of Casavera that produced only three thousand bottles a year and sold most of them before they left the estate. The label was simple, a hand-drawn rose on cream paper, and the wine itself was dark and velvety, tasting of blackberries and woodsmoke and the particular ache of a memory you didn't know you had until something brought it back.

I opened the door just a few inches and saw a small cardboard box sitting on the carpet with no name and no return address, so I pulled it inside and opened the lid while the others crowded around me to see what was inside. Resting on a bed of white tissue paper was a single rose made of delicate glass and the stem was broken in half so it looked dead and jagged, and I knew immediately that it was a message from Elena Romano because that rose was the symbol of the investment firm we had burned down in Berlin.

It was a Rosemary Gin Fizz—Elaine Vance’s favorite drink, a detail known only to her inner circle. "Please, Elara. I heard this is a favorite among women in Zurich," Adrian said, a sly glint in his eyes. I stared at the glass. If I drank it with relish, he would know. If I rejected it by claiming an allergy, he would also know, as Elaine had a mild allergy to fresh cherries. "What are you waiting for? Come on, perhaps we can toast," Adrian pushed, his face wearing a smile that confirmed this was his opening move.