Author: Molly Harper

“It’s not tacky,” Missy hissed through clenched fangs. “It’s innovative.” She gripped her drink until the glass shattered in her hands, but she seemed to recover her composure as she flicked the shards away. “And technically, darling, you’re chained.”

Missy stepped over to my parents to adjust their bonds. She pinched my father’s cheek until I thought blood would well from under her nails and then slapped him lightly. I growled, but she ignored me.

“Here’s the deal, Janie. When I dust you, I’ll gain control over River Oaks and everything you own. And then I’m going to kill your parents and your sister. And then I’m going after that boring ass of a husband and her imbecile children so there are no living heirs to claim River Oaks. That’s the difference between you and me, Jane. I don’t sit around whining and waiting for something to happen. I see what I want, and I take it.”

“Look, this entire deck is made of wood. Just stake me and get it over with so I don’t have to listen to any more evil-overlord speeches.” I grumbled under my breath, “Two-bit dyed-blond social-climbing huckster.”

Missy whirled on me, her face twisted with rage. “What did you say?”

She took a step toward me. Seeing that, I said, “Bottled blonde.”

“No, not that.” She snarled and took another step away from my parents.

“Nouveau riche.” I smiled nastily, watching her move farther away from my family. If I could distract her long enough, maybe Dick could sneak around the building and release them.

When Missy’s fangs glinted, I added, “Pretentious. Megalomaniacal. Two-faced. Cheap. Gigantic skank. About as real as Jenny’s tan.”

“No, that last part,” Missy seethed.

Cheerfully, I said, “Oh, huckster, con artist, snake-oil peddler. If you were any good at sales, you wouldn’t be in this position, would you? Aunt Jettie would have packed up for Florida and sold out to you. You’d be sitting pretty in River Oaks, and I would be—”

Missy let loose a guttural scream and kicked me square in the chest with her knockoff Jimmy Choos. Still chained to a lawn chair, I was launched through the deck railing, landing about twenty feet away. I left an ankle-deep rut in the recently sodded yard, my head pillowed on the mound of dirt. Spitting out grass and mud, I felt a grinding throb in my shoulder. I looked down and saw a chunk of the deck jutting through my collarbone.

“That is just gross,” I heard Zeb say. I looked up to see him, Dick, and Gabriel standing over me. While this was touching in a “The cavalry is here!” sort of way, it didn’t change the fact that my parents were now alone with an over-lip-glossed psychopath who planned on killing them. I looked up to the deck and saw empty chairs. Great, my parents were now hidden from sight by an over-lip-glossed psychopath. That was so much safer.

Dick shook his head. “This is what happens when you roughhouse. It’s all fun and games until somebody gets impaled.”

Wearing his grim expression, Gabriel knelt next to me. He said, “This is going to hurt.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked as Gabriel yanked the offending lumber from my clavicle. “Ow!”

“I told you it was going to hurt,” Gabriel said, shrugging.

“I called him,” Dick said, looking sheepish. “I thought you could use some help, or at least another witness. I would have called Andrea, too, but you never gave me her number.”

“And you?” I asked Zeb as Gabriel yanked my shirt away from the wound and inspected it.

“I called him,” Gabriel told me, peering up at Zeb. “Though I remember asking for Jolene.”

Zeb’s clever reply was interrupted by Missy racing across the lawn, looking to wrap her arms around an unmoving Dick. “Dickie! I’m so glad you’re all right. I was so worried.”

“Now, why would you worry about me, darlin’?” Dick asked, his smile nasty. “Just because you torched my trailer, with me inside? Why would that make you worry your pretty little head?”

Missy’s mouth formed a slick, astonished O. “Now, Dickie, honey, you know I’d never—”

“Missy, we’re going to have a little talk, you and I,” Dickie growled.

“Now, Dickie, Gabriel, you know you’re not allowed to interfere once a challenge has been made,” she cooed, toying with the hem of Dick’s “Federal Bikini Inspector” T-shirt. “And I issued a legal challenge to Jane at the council office days ago. It doesn’t matter that Dick is alive—the challenge stands.”

“Suddenly, we’re concerned with the rules?” Dick asked in the same saccharine tone.

“Only when they work to my advantage.” She smiled.

That meant I still had to fight. Dang it. While Dick had Missy distracted, I had a small panic attack.

“I haven’t been a vampire for very long, but I’m pretty sure I can’t toss someone like that,” I said, wincing as the wound in my shoulder closed. “I want her tested for steroids.”

“She’s been drinking the blood of older vampires for years. It makes her the equivalent of an East German gymnast,” Dick called over his shoulder. He glared at Missy. “Trust me, I know.”

This prompted more indignant chatter from Missy. I groaned, clutching Gabriel’s arms. “Gabriel, I don’t want this to be the way you remember me. Just leave now, before I get my ass handed to me by a sorority reject from hell. I’m sorry I dragged you into my weird, drama-ridden existence. I’m sorry I screwed things up so badly with you and me. I’m sorry I have the emotional maturity of a grapefruit.”

He grinned, his fangs glinting. “You don’t have the emotional maturity of a grapefruit. A tangerine, maybe, but I think you’ve got to work your way up to grapefruit.”

I smacked his chest. “You’re joking. I’m going to be beaten to death with a hot-pink faux-alligator handbag, and you pick now to develop a sense of humor.”

“You’re not going to be beaten to death,” Gabriel said in a bemused, soothing tone. He held his wrist to my lips. “Drink.”

Sensing Gabriel’s maneuver, Dick began arguing in a louder, more demanding tone, casting aspersions on Missy’s character, business acumen, and sexual prowess. She screamed back that she faked something a lot. I didn’t catch what, but I think I can guess.

“I don’t think now is the time for naughty blood-swapping fun,” I said, shoving Gabriel’s arm away. “Besides…” I jerked my head toward Zeb. “He’s watching.”

Zeb waved my concerns away. His eyes were glued to Dick and Missy baring fangs and snarling insults. “I can’t tear myself away from the most frightening breakup fight I’ve ever seen.”

Gabriel nudged his wrist toward me again. “You’ll absorb some of my strength. It will help you.”

“It’s just that, drinking your blood, it’s kind of what got me into this mess,” I said.

“I didn’t see you complaining when you were dying along the roadside,” he huffed. “Or when we were making love.”

“What?” Zeb shouted.

“Zeb, shut it,” I warned.

Gabriel ran his hands through his hair, making it stand on end in a wild Beethoven that would have been hilarious under different circumstances. “Would you please just accept help from me and stop being so, so—”

“So Jane?” Zeb suggested.

“Zeb!” Gabriel warned.

“OK, you need to back off,” I said, poking Gabriel’s chest. “You’re suffocating me. You never tell me anything unless it’s your ‘listen to Daddy’ voice, which is incredibly annoying in someone you have feelings for. I never know how you feel about me, about anything, except that you like to see me naked, and you have caveman ‘must protect Jane’ impulses. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Technically, you kind of are,” Zeb volunteered.

We both growled at Zeb, our fangs bared.

“Shutting up!” Zeb said, throwing up his hands and backing away.

“I don’t write love poems,” Gabriel said. “I don’t cuddle. I don’t spend hours on the phone, cooing, ‘No, you hang up first.’ I was raised in a time when if you had feelings for a woman, you proposed or you made her your mistress. I think, given the circumstances, you should give me credit for being as evolved as I am.”

Damned if he didn’t have a point. But I would have to hand over my womanhood membership card if I ever admitted it.

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

I threw my arms up. “I don’t even know what it is.”

He sighed, a short snort of impatience. “I like you. You’re unpredictable, and you always say what you think, even if it would be better if you didn’t. You get yourself into situations that Moliere couldn’t think of.”

“OK, OK, so you like me.”

“Yes, I think we should see each other on an exclusive basis,” he said. I stared at him. “I am your sire, and we’ve made love.”

“I’m familiar with your résumé,” I said, shushing him with another furtive look at Zeb. “This is not a good time for this.”

“I doubt we’ll ever find a good time,” he muttered, thrusting his arm against my mouth. “Now, drink, before Missy figures out what we’re doing.” With nothing else I to say, I chomped on his wrist. Gabriel yelped, prompting a smile against his skin. Unusual for me, I knew, but I could hear Missy and Dick’s argument winding down. Gabriel winced as I drew huge mouthfuls of his blood.

Zeb watched, coming closer and closer. “Is it going to be a Popeye thing? She eats her spinach and has the strength of twenty squinty sailors?”

“How have you survived this long without someone hurting you?” Gabriel asked as I finished feeding. I wiped a drip from my chin and offered Zeb a red-tinged grin. He recoiled, clearly grossed out.

Gabriel pulled a handkerchief from nowhere and dabbed at my mouth.

“I love it when he does that,” Zeb said, looking Gabe over for hidden pockets. “Why can’t I be a cool sleight-of-hand guy?”

“You’ve got a huge man crush on him, don’t you?” I said, shaking my head.

Zeb measured “this much” sexual confusion with his fingers.

The sudden drop in volume signaled that Missy had finally noticed us.

“Gabriel, I do believe what you just did could be considered cheating,” Missy said, her voice teasing and pouting.

“Do not attempt to explain the ancient codes to me,” he growled.

Missy ignored the chill in Gabriel’s tone. “Then I can count on you to mind your own business and let us girls sort this out.”

“You can count on me to keep this farce as close to the codes as possible. And if by some misfortune you happen to kill my bloodmate, I will make you wish for dawn.”

Bloodmate? What was that, exactly? It sounded like something I didn’t necessarily want to be. But the term seemed to have an effect on Missy. The supreme Tony Robbins-bred confidence melted away for a second before she flashed a guileless grin. “I’ll just let you two say your good-byes.”

“She’s really good at that intimidating smack-talk stuff,” I said, watching her flounce away. “Any advice?”

“Keep your hands up,” Gabriel said. “Protect your neck and chest at all times. And don’t try any of those fancy women’s self-defense tactics. She probably took the same classes when she was alive, and she’ll be expecting them.”

Before I could retort, Gabriel crushed me close and gave me a bloodless, friendly smack on the lips. He smiled. “For luck.”