Nice Girls Dont Bite Their Neighbors

by Molly Harper

Page 14

  Author: Molly Harper

  “During which I am alone with you,” I said.

  He chuckled. “Think of this as a premarital cooling-off period. We’ve been living together for a while. Having Jamie around keeps us from taking each other for granted. ”

  I stopped in my tracks. Cooling-off period? What were we? That sounded like something you did for frenzied gun-shop customers or couples mired in divorce mediation. It did not sound like the foundation for lifelong marital bliss. I tugged at the hem of my shirt and kicked off my shoes. “Oh, screw this, now we have to have sex. ”

  “What, here?” he asked, motioning to the grassy, leaf-strewn ground, which, I had to admit, didn’t look like the ideal spot for a tryst.

  I pushed his shirt over his head and yanked at his belt. “Yes! I have had it with teenagers and unstable dead family members. We deserve a little time to ourselves. Naked. ”

  Gabriel cleared his throat as I started shimmying out of my jeans. “But isn’t it a bit … exposed?”

  “Yes, which means that we probably have a maximum of ten minutes before someone figures out that we’re actually trying to enjoy ourselves, so they must put an immediate stop to it … so drop your pants,” I commanded. His eyebrows bobbed. “Sorry, I know this isn’t very romantic. ”

  He bit his bottom lip, the upper quirking into a dirty little grin. “Actually, it’s working for me. ”

  I barely had time to get out a laugh before he had both tails of my shirt in his hands. There was pressure at my shoulders and the sound of fabric rending. I looked down to see him holding the scraps of my shirt in his hands. He smirked and shrugged. “If you get to be bossy and demanding, I get to be bossy and demanding, too. ”

  I hooked my foot around his ankle and shoved him back, straddling him as he landed. He threaded his hand up my side, plucking at the nipple before stroking my collarbone. He gasped as I ground down in little circles. He moaned and bucked up under me, sending me sprawling to the ground. He slid over my back, pressing kisses along my spine as he raised me to my knees. He knelt behind me, tugging my panties down.

  His hand skimmed around my hip, pulling me back against him. He ground into my ass, cupping his fingers around my pulsing warmth.

  He nipped and bit at my neck. I vaguely registered the sound of a zipper lowering. He guided his head between my folds and surged up as his fangs sank in to my neck. I cried out at the sudden sensation of fullness, of being stretched and molded to him as he thrust inside me. I sat back, balancing against his thighs as his hands roamed my stomach, my breasts, settling over my throat as he pulled the blood there. I pulled his wrist across my mouth, caressing it against my cheek before sinking my fangs into his skin.

  Love. Full. Love. Love. Love. Mate. Happy.

  This was pretty typical of Gabriel’s thought stream during sex. The irony was that this was the only time I was privy to those thoughts, so my only window into my erudite mate’s soul was when he was reduced to a horny, happy, monosyllabic mess.

  He pushed my shoulders forward until my palms rested on the dirt. He wound my hair around his fist, tilting his head to the side so he could continue to feed. The other hand snaked between my thighs to stroke and tease.

  My whole being seemed to tense up as he timed his hand, his fangs, and his thrusts in tandem. When one sensation struck, the next was on its heels. I was unbearably full, the coil of winding pleasure tensing inside me until I cried out.

  He withdrew his fangs, licking at the wounds gently, before sinking them in again. I arched up, screaming. He shuddered against me, his fingers threading through my hair to drag me closer as he released. I sank to the earth with a sigh, his weight settling pleasantly on top of me. Breathing deeply, I pressed my cheek to the cool ground, enjoying the tickling sensation of the blades of grass against my skin. I closed my eyes, winding Gabriel’s arm around me as I listened to the cicadas chirp and the mosquitoes drone. I could have very easily, and happily, fallen asleep right there. But there was an unaccompanied teenager in my house … and leaf bits sticking where leaf bits just didn’t belong. I smiled, bussed Gabriel on the cheek, and stretched my arms over my head in a languid “holding on to the last moments of peace we’ll have in who knows how long” gesture.

  “You know, I have to say, for our first ‘outdoor adventure,’ I think we performed admirably. ” I sighed.

  “This isn’t our first outdoor adventure,” he said, trailing his fingertips across my collarbone.

  “I think I’d remember the leaf-bit issue if we’d done this before,” I countered.

  “We’ve had sex outside before, behind your shop,” he reminded me. “It was a semi-enclosed area, but I think it should still count. ”

  “Hmm. That does count. You’re right. ”

  “I usually am when it comes to reminiscing about sexual encounters with you,” he said, smirking. “Because I remember every. Single. One. ” He punctuated each word with a biting kiss across my throat.

  “Really?” I drawled.

  “Vividly. It’s hard to forget a woman who manages to seduce you while spouting odd literary trivia and anatomically specific threats. ”

  “Still think having Jamie around is going to force a ‘cooling-off period’?” I asked him smugly as I wrestled my way back into my bra.

  He helpfully adjusted the strap over my shoulder and snapped the clasp for me. “Yes. Or it could drive an insurmountable wedge between us, so that we end up heaving the bric-a-brac at each other—uff. ” He chuckled as I elbowed him in the chest.

  “That was one time!” I laughed as he slid his arms around me and kissed my hair. I shrugged him off, grinning cheekily as I plucked grass and leaf bits from his hair. “And it wasn’t bric-a-brac. It was a book … Wait, are we referring to our first fight or our last fight?”

  “It’s sad that you have to ask,” he said, swiping at the mud on my cheek.

  “You throw one little paperback at a guy, and he gets all sensitive. ”

  He retorted, “It was the Lord of the Rings trilogy! In hardcover!”

  Somewhere in the distance, I heard a ping.

  “What the?” I turned toward the noise, only to have Gabriel wrap his arms around me and throw me to the ground. I heard his breath explode from his lungs as if he’d been punched in the back. I felt an odd sharp object poking me in the chest. I looked down, unable to comprehend the red flower blossoming on Gabriel’s chest.

  There was an arrowhead poking through Gabriel’s shirt.

  7

  Do not allow your childe to subsist on bottled blood alone. Newborn vampires need the nutritional support of live blood, or at least donor blood if the childe has qualms about violence. A bottled-only diet would be like allowing a human kindergartner to live on Jujubes and Mountain Dew.

  —Siring for the Stupid:

  A Beginner’s Guide to Raising Newborn Vampires

  “Ow,” Gabriel said dully, as if he’d just stubbed his toe. He slumped against me and passed out.

  Seeing the red-tinged grain of the wooden shaft sticking out of his skin, I felt a surge of panic. Did an arrow count as a stake? I realized that the arrow was lodged in the wrong side of his chest. He’d been shot about four inches too far to the right to do any permanent damage. But obviously, it still hurt like a bitch, because Gabriel was completely unconscious, the skin around his lips white and tense.

  Fighting down my panic, I closed my eyes, focused my senses, and opened them to search for any signs of a human or a vampire nearby. There was no scent. No movement in the distance. I could hear a skittering heartbeat, moving away from me quickly. I could hear the faint crackle of tree limbs as the human archer ran from the havoc he’d caused. His mind was racing, so scattered and hyped up that I couldn’t grasp at a single thought stream.

  Should I chase him or help Gabriel? Considering how much Gabriel was bleeding and the likelihood of being skewered myself if I caught
the human, I decided to stay. I cupped my hand over the wound, thick red blood welling around my fingers and the arrow as I applied pressure.

  I thought back to all of the bad Kevin Costner movies I’d seen involving dancing with wolves and Robin Hoods without the proper accent. When the hapless sidekick was skewered, Kevin would snap off the feathered end of the arrow and pull it out. I gently pulled Gabriel toward me and saw that there was no traditional feathered end to the arrow. It was a plain old sportsman’s arrow, like most of the deer hunters in the area would use.

  I opened Gabriel’s shirt and saw that the flesh around the protruding arrowhead was withered and crackling. A reaction to the wood?

  I reached over his shoulder and snapped off the notched end as close to his back as possible. Waking, Gabriel winced, leaning heavily against me.

  “Ow,” he said again, sounding more annoyed. I took this as a good sign.

  I wrapped my fingers around the arrowhead. “I’m not going to lie, this is going to hurt. ”

  “What?”

  Without further preamble, I yanked hard. Gabriel yelped as the arrow slid free and clattered to the ground. The jolt of pain seemed to help him focus. His eyes narrowed, snapping to my face.

  “Someone shot me with an arrow!” he exclaimed.

  A nervous laugh bubbled up through my chest. “Yeah, sweetie, that’s why there was a narrow wooden cylinder sticking out your back. ”

  “Well, now that the initial panic is over, I find I am really pissed about it!” he grumbled.

  I laughed, running my hand over my face. “Let’s get you into the house before he tries it again, OK?”

  “You know, this is your fault, Ms. Spontaneous Outdoor Sex,” he grumped as I hauled him to his feet.

  “Actually, you’re right. I should have known better,” I admitted, tucking his arm around my shoulders and supporting his weight as we walked. “Nothing good comes from us having sex outside. I just now recall Taseing you after the shop incident and then creepy Jeanine sending me pictures of our activities afterward. ”

  “We just need to do more thorough perimeter checks from now on,” he muttered.

  “Why are you limping?” I demanded. “The arrow didn’t hit you in the leg. ”

  He stopped, his shift in weight pulling me to a halt, too. “I don’t know. It just seems like the thing to do after you’ve received an arrow wound. ”

  I sighed as he straightened his gait and walked normally. “You are so the guy for me. ”

  The wound had closed by the time we reached the front door. Gabriel kept repeating, “Who the hell shoots an arrow at someone? Doesn’t anyone have any respect for the recent advancements in firearms?”

  “What happened?” Jamie called as we passed the parlor door. Jettie had him ensconced on the couch with a bottle of Faux Type O, playing a video game while she showed him my high school yearbooks. Where was the loyalty? Honestly.

  “Just a little mishap with a stray arrow,” I said through gritted teeth as I steered Gabriel down the hall to the guest bath, where we kept the medical supplies.

  Jamie dropped his controller and followed us. The potential to see real carnage was more appealing than killing digital zombies, or whatever he was doing.

  “Do you think it could have been a hunter?” I asked Gabriel. “They’ve strayed onto my land before. I try not to get too grumpy with them, because, well, they’re armed. ”

  “We could go look in the woods,” Jettie offered, appearing at my elbow. “See if there’s a suspicious character hanging around. ” I nodded, and my ghostly friends disappeared through the front wall of the house.

  “It’s nowhere near bow season,” Jamie said.

  “So, you’re familiar with bow-hunting, are you?” Gabriel asked, his tone suspicious.

  I smacked his good arm. “If you’re going to be accusatory, at least man up about it. Jamie, did you shoot Gabriel in the back with a bow and arrow?”