Broken Heart 02 Don't Talk Back to Your Vampire (4 page)

When I woke up after the attack, I was latched to the neck of a vampire named Mortimer. Yeah, I know—someone named
Mortie
saved my life. After Tamara got over the shock of my death and my vampification, she often crooned lines from "The Monster Mash" just to annoy me. As for Mortie, he'd
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returned to his wife in London and left my vampire lessons to the other Masters who'd decided to stick it out in Broken Heart.

After we got all the vampire stuff straightened out, the Consortium revealed it had been buying out residences and businesses in Broken Heart. It wanted to build the first-ever paranormal community in the United States. Over the summer, nearly all the human residents had moved out. The town was practically empty, its buildings under constant demolition and construction.

Turning into a vampire had rid me of cellulite, acne scars, and crow's-feet. Yet other things had been taken away, too—sunrise and road trips and ice cream (oh, the joy of a Ben & Jerry's pint!).

My mind drifted back to the dream. Why was I associating the wolf with Lorcan? Because I feared him?

Because I wanted him, but I was
scared
to want him? Finding a bed in a tower—a phallic symbol for sure—seemed rife with sexual imagery.

Having sexual relations was a serious business for us vampires. If we fed
and
did the mattress mambo, we were linked to the person of our affection for the next century. Needless to say, most of us were real discriminating about our love lives. Hmm. Maybe my subconscious was just working out my sexual frustration with the only man who'd shared my bed in more than a year. Granted, he'd only held me, not tried anything naughty (was that a sliver of regret wedged in my relief?), but still… Lorcan was hot.

Movie-star hot. The kind of hot a woman like me viewed at a distance, wanting and wanting but never in a million years actually getting.

Oh, what did it matter? I had no intention of binding with anyone ever. Falling in love for me was like unwrapping a mystery candy. I wanted chocolate, but I always got licorice.

Still, it was hard to forget those eyes, that wild hair, that muscled chest. Poor, poor sexually repressed me. I thought about all the blood and mud I had wiped off. Why had Lorcan been attacked? Fear ghosted along my spine. We had problems with a group of vampires called the Wraiths. They were a nasty bunch, but they'd been routed out of Broken Heart a couple months back. I shuddered to think they or their vamp/lycan abominations were running around the town again.

"Hey, Mom," Tamara called down. "Your breakfast is here."

"Share your pancakes with Charlie," I said.

If I couldn't indulge in real carbs, I could at least get the faint taste of syrup-drizzled pancakes in liquid form. Charlie was one of my two favorite donors. Donors were humans who were paid to be vampire meals—courtesy of the Consortium. Most vampires needed only a pint an evening to survive.

Charlie was a nice guy, though a little on the shy side. He was smart and loved books; we got along well because my most favorite thing in the world, other than my daughter, was reading.

I took a quick shower in the private bathroom (courtesy of the Consortium) and drew on a pair of black capris and a beaded white halter top, both new purchases thanks to a cyber-shopping trip. My friend Jessica and my daughter sat at the computer with me and helped me (read: chose for me) buy clothing I probably wouldn't have bought given my druthers.

A couple weeks ago, after assessing my favorite pair of gray sweats and baggy T-shirt, Jessica insisted that my "librarian frump look" had to go. The thing about Jessica was that she had a heart—and a mouth—as big as Texas. You never asked Jessica for her opinion unless you really wanted it.

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My purchases arrived yesterday, and this was my first foray into my new look, which Tamara had termed "sexy mama." I wasn't quite sure if that was better than "librarian frump." But I didn't have a choice about my attire, since all of my old clothes had disappeared.

Last night, Jessica hauled me to Patsy's beauty parlor and Patsy gave my brown locks a sassy new cut and highlighted them with red and gold. I followed her directions for "sexy-messy" hair and to my delight, scrubbing gel into it made my new bob look all… well, sexy-messy. Linda, the manicurist, also gave me a pedicure and a manicure. My toenails and fingernails were a frosted pink color called Fairy Dance.

I put on gold hoop earrings and tucked my feet into a new pair of white high-heeled sandals. "You look fabulous, darling," I said to my reflection. Then I winked at myself. Oh, Lord, I was such a dork.

As I closed the lid to my jewelry box, I spied Lorcan's gold rose. I had tossed it into a little slot with no intention of wearing it. Then again… I pinned it to the left edge of the halter and instantly felt as though I'd done the right thing.

I hurried up the stairs and into the large kitchen. On the left side was a nook with built-in seats and a small round table. This was where Tamara, wearing a black kimono, was eating pancakes with Charlie.

Charlie was in his late thirties, with a balding blond pate, a round face, and pale eyes—like watered-down whiskey. He favored rumpled khakis and plaid shirts, to hide his slight paunch, and he always wore loafers.

A forkful of pancake was headed toward his mouth when he turned to look at me. His eyes went wide behind his black-rimmed glasses and he poked himself in the cheek with the fork.

"Ow. Shit!" The silverware clattered to the plate. He grabbed a napkin, blushing furiously as he rubbed syrup off his jaw.

Tamara howled with laughter.

"
Tamara
," I said sternly, though it took a lot of willpower to still the bubble of laughter in my own throat.

I rushed to the table and tried to help dab, but he shooed me away.

"I'm fine." Obviously nervous, he finished cleaning his face. Then he pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked at me sheepishly. "You look very nice."

"Thanks." Was I crazy or was Charlie giving me the once-over? No way. Charlie was like a comfortable pair of slippers or an old, warm robe. He made me feel cozy. I did not like the stare he was giving me now. Smiling weakly, I looked at Tamara. She shrugged and returned to her pancakes, but not before I saw the little smirk that flitted across her lips.

"Are you ready, Eva?" Charlie stood up. He knew I didn't like to feed in front of my daughter. It was one thing to be a vampire and another thing to do vampire-like things around your children.

We went into my office. The big, decrepit desk was filled with papers, files, and books. Books lined shelves around the room and were piled on the floor. Two big leather wingback chairs were parked in front of the desk, but one was filled with—you guessed it—books.

Charlie sat in the empty one and I looked at him blankly.

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"Er, how am I supposed to get close enough?"

Charlie grinned and patted his leg. Okay. I was getting really weirded out. He had been my donor for the three months I had been a vampire, and this was the first time I'd gotten these kinds of vibes from him. Like
he
wanted to bite
me
. Still, maybe I was being too squeamish. Even though I had accepted that drinking blood was the only way to stay alive, it still wasn't an enjoyable part of my daily ritual. I was probably blowing everything out of proportion.

"Well, then… I guess we should… uh, proceed." I clapped my hands together and perched on his knee.

He bumped me up, like a lascivious uncle playing horsey, and I fell into his lap.

"That's better," he said. "Drink up."

He bent his neck and though I didn't want to move, I was at too awkward an angle to put my fangs into his artery. Wiggling closer, I put my arms around him.

"Yeah," said Charlie faintly. "Oh… yeah."

"What?"

"N-nothing."

I was hungry, so I dismissed all the weirdness. My fangs descended and I sank them into his flesh. The blood flowing into my mouth tasted like nirvana. Maybe I didn't like starting or stopping, but imbibing blood was nearly orgasmic.

Then I felt something moving along my buttocks. Something hard. Something
growing
. Oh. My. God. I wrenched free of Charlie and looked at him in horror. "What are you doing?"

"You're so beautiful," he said, going all dopey-eyed. His hand reached toward my breast and I batted it away. He pressed his hard-on against my ass and bucked.

"Stop it!"

"No!" he cried. He grabbed me by the shoulders and stuck his tongue into my mouth. I nearly gagged.

"Hey, Mom," said Tamara from the doorway, "you got a visitor." I heard the sharp intake of her breath and then, "Holy freaking crap. What are you doing to him?"

I pulled away from Charlie's sloppy kiss and tried to scramble off him, but he held on to me desperately.

With my vampire strength, I had the ability to hurt him, but I was trying to free myself without breaking his arms. Then he released me, so suddenly that I fell onto the floor. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

Shock rooted me to the spot as I looked up, up, up into the stormy gaze of Lorcan O'Halloran.

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I was shaken to the core. First by Charlie's strange behavior, which was so un-Charlie-like that it was as if someone else was wearing his skin, and second by Lorcan's sudden appearance. He was the last person I expected to see. What was he doing back already?

Charlie sat in the wingback and stared at me. His eyes had the glassy look of a puppet's. Worry gnawed at me. Something was wrong, but was it him… or was it me?

When Lorcan reached down to help me up, Charlie yelled, "Take your hands off her!"

He leapt up, his fist cocked. Startled, I said, "Charlie! Sit down!"

"Okay." He dropped into the chair.

Uh… what the hell?

Lorcan's hand on mine produced an electrical shock. At least for me. His face seemed carved from stone as he pulled me to my feet. No one who paid attention could confuse him with his twin, Patrick, who had a more ebullient spirit and who wasn't afraid of wearing more than one color. Lorcan
always
wore black, like he was constantly in mourning.

He let go of my hand and grimaced. "I am not constantly in mourning."

I blinked. I hadn't realized I said that out loud. I looked at Charlie. "I think you should go home," I said.

"Go home and rest. Okay?"

"Anything you say, Eva. Anything at all." He stood up and marched out the door.

Lorcan, Tamara, and I watched him go down the hallway and out the front door. Chewing on my lower lip, I said, "He's never acted that way before."

"Once he reaches his home, he'll be fine," Lorcan said reassuringly.

"Mom, you have the ability to zombify people."

"That's not a cool power," I protested. "Bending the will of others is kinda lame."