A Vampire Bundle: The Real Werewives of Vampire County, When Darkness Comes, Real Vamps Don't Drink O-Neg, & Hunted by the Others

by Alexandra Ivy

  “Take my word for it, she was a pussycat compared to the real thing,” Andy warned.

  “I have no experience with dragons myself,” Ric said. “But I’ve heard of those who have dared tangle with them. Not pretty.”

  Ric believed him?

  “There’s no way around it, you’ll have to face a Guardian sooner or later if you’re going to get the harp and spear,” Andy said. “He might not have what you’re looking for yet, but he’ll fight you for it or try to steal it from you once you’ve found it. Those guys mean business.”

  “Yeah. So I’ve heard.” Ric didn’t sound pleased.

  “I can’t tell you how to beat them, since I haven’t defeated one personally, but I can tell you about their weaknesses. Those are well known among the Ancient Ones,” Andy offered.

  Ric took a seat in the chair next to Andy, rested his foot on his opposite knee, and looking like they were long-lost chums, gave him an encouraging nod. “Tell me. As men of science, my clan has no use for them and thus has no information on them in our annals.”

  “As I expected,” Andy said, with a solemn nod. “I will tell you everything I know.”

  And just like that, a new and unlikely friendship was born, between one gorgeous but pigheaded Wissenschaft and an equally stubborn but not quite as yummy Ancient One.

  As both of the men’s gazes found her, their brows raised in a collective gaze of assessment, Sophie again wondered if their new partnership was a good thing or a bad thing. She figured it was probably both.

  In the meantime, the shower was calling and she was in no position to refuse. To put it mildly, she reeked. Plus she was anxious to do something useful. When she emerged from the bathroom, smelling Zestfully clean, and feeling fresh and energized and ready to go spear hunting, Andy was gone. Ric was reclining in the bed, his head turned so his face was to the wall. His chest wasn’t moving. Even ten or so feet away, she could tell he wasn’t breathing; then again, he’d proven once already that that didn’t mean much.

  Just to reassure herself, she called his name.

  He didn’t respond.

  Now she was worried. She called louder. Nothing. A million possibilities hopped around inside her head like Ping-Pong balls in a rubber-walled room. Had something terrible happened while she was in the shower? Had Andy been pretending to befriend Ric only to attack him once she’d left the room?

  A whole lot more freaked out than she ever thought she would be, she ran to the bed, took one good breath to fill her deflating lungs, and grabbed his arm, figuring she’d roll him onto his back and take a look. What she would do after that was beyond her.

  Did CPR work on the undead? Would a guy who rarely breathed need CPR? How would she know if there was something truly wrong with him?

  It took a great deal of effort, strained muscles in places she hadn’t even known she had muscles, grunting and groaning, to get Ric over onto his back.

  Dead weight. Dead…

  Shoving that thought aside, she shook him. “Ric?”

  He didn’t respond. Not an eyelash flutter, or a nose flare. Nothing.

  “Ric, come on! Yeah, I gave you a hard time about being all manly and protective about Andy or whatever his name is, but you got over it…right? Ric? This. Isn’t. Funny!” She shook him harder, slapped his cheek lightly, then again with a whole lot more force. Even with her practically punching him he remained deathly still. “Oh, God! He’s dead? How? Oh, God! What happened? Did Andy do something?” she shouted to no one, because there was no one there to answer her. She ran around, shaking her hands, wanting to do something, anything, to bring Ric back but having no idea what to do. She paced. “Dead. My vampire sweetie’s dead? Was it garlic? A silver bullet? I didn’t see a stake in his heart. Surely I would’ve seen that.” She did a quick check for obvious injuries—bullet holes, burnmarks—and then for garlic and holy water. “Nothing? Did he starve to death? Does he need blood? Oh, man. I hope that isn’t it, because if it is, that means I’ll have to supply it to him and I can’t do that.”

  She adjusted the collar of her pullover and leaned over him until her neck was pressed against his closed mouth. “Come on, baby. I know you want some. Drinky-drinky.”

  He didn’t bite, slurp, or even lick.

  “Darn it!” She glanced at her wrist, then pried his lips open—he looked a little bit like a horse with his lips curled back like that—and rubbed her wrist against the front of his teeth.

  That did nothing either. Didn’t inspire even a twitch. Frustrated, near panic-stricken, she smacked his chest. “What the heck am I supposed to do? Huh? Damn it, if this is step two of the big plan, you could’ve given me a warning, a hint or two. A study guide. Something.”

  She paced some more.

  “Okay. What do I know about vampires?” She stopped pacing. “Not much. They need blood. But Ric knows I’m ignorant of the ways of the vamp. So if this is a test, he wouldn’t expect me to know something he knows I don’t know…. Jeez, I sound like Abbott and Costello.”

  Sophie turned around and looked at Ric again. “Blood. That’s the only thing I can think of. It’s the only thing I know. That has to be it. But where do I get it from?” She looked around the room. Like there was going to be a ready supply of fresh blood in the hotel room. “Oh, man, he wouldn’t expect me to actually supply the blood, as in cut myself, would he? Why couldn’t he have passed out at a blood bank? I could just order up a unit or two of O-neg and be done with it.”

  She stared at his pale face, wishing he would answer her.

  “Shit! It’s a little thing. Right? I just need to make a small scratch. A poke, like the doctor does when he checks for iron. I have to try. I just hope I can supply what he needs before I pass out cold.” Determined to do what she could, she marched to the bathroom, found her pink Lady Schick, closed her eyes, and ran her fingertip along the blade. It stung like heck, had to have sliced clear down to the bone. She yelped and opened her eyes after bracing herself for what had to be a virtual river of blood gushing from the wound.

  There wasn’t even a single drop. She could see the narrow slice in the skin but evidently it didn’t go deep enough to cause bleeding. “Darn it! I nick myself every freaking morning while shaving and now I can’t produce a single drop of blood when I need to?” Her heart racing, her hands shaking, stars twinkling before her eyes, she counted to three and tried again. Once again pain shot through her hand. This time it was so bad she dropped the razor in surprise. “Owwww! What I do for you, bloodsucker!”

  This had to have worked. There had to be blood pouring from the wound, gushing, pulsing…. Her stomach turned. She blinked open her eyes but could barely see, thanks to the stars shutting out most of her field of vision. She thought she caught sight of some red and hoped it was good enough. At a near swoon, her head spinning, she went over to the bed, wormed her finger into his mouth and rubbed her fingertip along his teeth, the inside of his cheek.

  “Wake up, dammit!” she said, tears now making it even harder to see. She felt breathless, near unconscious, like after she’d woken up from surgery and had had a reaction to the painkillers. “I can’t…do…any…more.” Giving in to the darkness that had slowly pulled her, she fell over, landing next to him on the mattress.

  Chapter 12

  “Wakey-wakey, sweetheart,” Ric said, shaking her shoulder.

  Sophie rolled over, burying her head under the pillow. Her head felt like a block of cement and her stomach hurt. “Noooo. Tired. Leave me alone.”

  “But, sweetcheeks, I’m in the mood to celebrate,” he said, sounding much too happy for a dead undead guy.

  Sweetcheeks? What kind of name was that to call her? “Celebrate what?” she grumbled into the darkness. “You’re dead. Remember? A ghost. That doesn’t sound like something worth celebrating to me. How am I going to help Dao now? All by myself? I can’t fight a dragon. Dao’s gonna die, just like you did.”

  “I’m not dead.” He sat next to her. The bed creaked as his
weight tested the worn springs. Ghosts didn’t make springs creak, did they? “You saved me.”

  “I did?” Nursing a major migraine all of a sudden, she blinked open her eyes, squinting against the glare of the lamp behind Ric. “You’re not dead?”

  “Nope.”

  Shielding her eyes from the lamplight so her head wouldn’t explode, she sat up and shifted her position so she could look at his face. It looked healthy and handsome and so very alive. She was thrilled! She was overjoyed! She was…pissed! She smacked him. When he didn’t look adequately chastised, she hit him again, and again, and again, punctuating each strike with a single word. “How. Could. You. Do. That. To. Me!”

  “It was the second step. I said you’d know what to do when the time came. See? Nothing to worry about.”

  “Nothing to worry about?” Despite the fact that the world spun like a Tilt-A-Whirl whenever she moved, she jumped up and smacked him some more. “Nothing to worry about? You were dead and I almost didn’t save you. I passed out! What if I’d failed? What would’ve happened to Dao?” This time, her strikes were harder, as her fear and anger worked their way out of her system. Each smack thumped dully against his chest. “Huh? What would’ve you done then, big, bad bloodsucker? What if I’d fainted before I stuck my freaking bloody finger in your mouth? What if I’d been too chicken to cut myself? What if my razor’d been too dull…?” She stomped away, stared blindly out the window. “Men! Gah!” She heard him follow her to the window. Despite the fact that she was fuming, awareness and longing shimmied up her spine.

  “Doesn’t matter. I knew you were ready. You didn’t fail.”

  Not happy with his answer, Sophie slumped forward, pressed her forehead against the cool glass and crossed her arms over her chest, shooting him “that wasn’t nice” barbs from her eyes as she tipped her head. She could see he wasn’t sorry, not at all. Sure, he didn’t go as far as beaming a smile at her, but he wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding one either. Infuriating man! Sexy, hunky, infuriating man.

  Ric gently uncurled her fingers from around her upper arm. Clearly trying to cool her anger, he kissed each fingertip. It wasn’t working. Nuh-uh! Neither was that pitiful look he had on his face, the one that said, “Don’t be mad, I adore you.” She’d be good and angry for a long time. He flipped her hand over and traced a wet line down her palm, then up her wrist. Little tickles did the cha-cha along her nerve endings.

  Mad. She was mad. Very mad. Seething mad.

  “I checked on your friend, Dao. Found the phone number in your purse. He’s okay. Sounds a little shaky but he’s still alive. Your Ancient One says as long as Dao’s not confused, still knows who you are, who he is, you still have time.” His expression changed from all business to seductive; his eyes shifted from a warm brown to a soft gold. Her hand still cradled in his left hand, he lifted his other to her face, palmed her cheek, traced her lower lip with his thumb. “You’re so sexy when you’re mad.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m intimidating. I’m damn scary.”

  He called Dao? Wasn’t that sweet? Her heart did a happy little pitter-patter but she forced it to return to normal rhythm.

  Mad. She had to stay mad. At least another thirty seconds, if she was going to have any hope of teaching the lughead not to do something so stupid ever again.

  “Oh, yes.” He nodded. “Sexy and intimidating. Most definitely.”

  “Quit humoring me,” she said flatly. “I hate that. Makes me madder…” She noted the pleased look on his face. “…which is what you want? You masochist! Grrr! Men! Vampires! You’re all crazy.”

  “Yes, we are. That’s why we can’t stay away from adorable, sexy, amazing, infuriating, stubborn women like you.”

  “Humph. I should be insulted.”

  “No, you shouldn’t. I said infuriating and stubborn.” He flashed a grin that nearly brought her to her infuriating, stubborn knees. “Come.” He flattened her hand to his forearm, encouraging her to grip it. “Let’s go celebrate. My treat. You must be starving. How about some dinner? I’ll tell you what I found out while you were taking your nap—”

  “Dinner? I don’t think I could eat. I’m too mad at you right now for almost dying—wait! Did you say dinner? What happened to breakfast? What day of the week is it?” She glanced at the clock. “Six in the morning? You woke me at six A.M.? That’s plain not right.” She let go of his arm, marched back to the bed, and made herself comfy-cozy. She knew they couldn’t go anywhere during the day. Why would he wake her up so early? “You vampire types keep some crazy hours. Wake me at eight, no earlier. My head’s about to explode like an atom bomb and I need to recover from the shock of your almost dying, never mind the insult of your humoring me when I was genuinely upset….”

  “I’m so sorry, baby.” He completely obliterated every one of her defenses when he sat on the bed and pulled her into a warm hug. She sagged against him, grateful for his warmth, his support. Him. She was grateful for him. “I wished I could’ve warned you but the second step is a test of trust. I had to trust you would know what to do. And I had to trust that you’d have the strength to do it. You did.”

  “But I was scared.”

  “And very brave and smart. I’m proud of how quickly you figured out what to do. Look at me. I’m good as new. Because of you, because you’re so intelligent and brave and giving,” Ric consoled. “Now come on, it’s six P.M.,” he corrected. “You’ve been out for a while. You’re dehydrated, which is why your head hurts, and you need to eat before we get going.” He rubbed her shoulder; then when she refused to move, he gave her thigh a smack. “Get up! You’re not going to feel better until you drink and eat. Remember? You’re here for your friend. What good will you be to him if you collapse?”

  “Fine, fine! You’d better be right because I swear I’m dying from meningitis. Maybe that razor blade was dirty and I got blood poisoning. Oh my God! I didn’t think about sterilizing it.” Sophie reluctantly let Ric go so he could stand, and she stared at the glaring red numbers on the clock. “Six at night? See? I’m sick, dying. I never sleep more than eight hours. I’d have to be near death to have slept that long. That’s like twenty hours. Shit! I can’t believe I wasted so much time.”

  “It’s okay. I promise.” Ric didn’t look too impressed or worried. “And you’re not sick. I would know.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I would feel it too. The second step has brought us closer and although we are not completely joined, if something is wrong with either of us, the other will know. You slept for so long because you were simply worn out, exhausted.”

  “But I should be helping—”

  “I’ve been working while you slept. I’ll fill you in later.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You keep saying that but you never tell me anything. I’m beginning to wonder if you’re keeping me in the dark on purpose—forgive the pun.”

  “This time I promise I’ll tell you everything. Let’s get you dressed.” While she dragged herself across the room to check herself for signs of infection in the bathroom mirror—like a rash, a flush from fever—he went to her suitcase, which was sitting on top of the dresser, her clothes a disorganized heap on top. He picked out her sexy black teddy. “Oooh. Nice. How about you wear this?” He held it up to get a better look.

  She flipped on the bathroom light, wincing at the jackhammers drilling her skull from the inside. “I think I’ll need to wear more than that if I’m going to stay out of jail—that is, if I don’t end up in the hospital first. Owwwww.”

  “Fine, fine.” He sighed melodramatically. “I guess you’d better wear some more conservative clothes.” He chose a pair of cropped jeans and a knit top, handed them to her, along with the toothbrush he found in the pocket of her suitcase, next to her other female necessities.

  “That’s better.” She brushed her teeth, found some clean underwear, then plopped her bottom back on the bed again, her pounding head sandwiched between her hands. “Speaking of better, do you ha
ve any drugs? I can’t eat like this. I can’t think like this. I can’t even walk like this.”

  “Nope. Sorry, sweetie. Want me to go down to the lobby and get something? They probably have aspirin in the vending machine.”

  “Yes. That would be wonderful. Thank you. It’ll give me time to get myself pretty for you, take a quick shower. Who knows, maybe some scalding water’ll ease the pounding.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll be back in a few.” He brushed his mouth over hers in a soft kiss that momentarily had her thinking about much more pleasant ways to cure an excruciating headache. Didn’t she read somewhere that nookie cured headaches? “While you’re dressing, you might want to pack up. Once we’ve made sure you’ve had enough to eat, we’ve got to hit the road. It’s a long drive to Chicago.”

  More surprises? She didn’t want any more surprises. She was tired of surprises. Weary of them. Eager for a boring, humdrum day. But at least they were getting somewhere! That made her breathe a little easier. “Chicago? I thought we weren’t going to meet that man. He’s a dragon.”

  “He is. But Julian says it’s the only way we’ll find the spear and shield.”

  “Julian? Who’s Julian?”

  “Julian Tsiaris. Your Ancient One. That’s his real name. He’s coming too, is meeting us in an hour. So hustle up. We’re planning on hitting the road by seven. We vampire types prefer traveling after dark. It’s a little easier on the skin, if you know what I mean.”

  “You mean I’m going to spend the next who knows how many hours trapped in a car with the both of you?” she asked, dragging herself back into the bathroom.

  “Yep.”

  “Oh, man.” The pain in her head increased tenfold. “You’d better hurry up with those drugs, then. A double dose of vamp testosterone? I can just imagine what kind of hell that’ll be.” She smiled. “We’re really getting closer to finding the artifacts?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “Thank God!”