Your Coffin or Mine?

by Kimberly Raye

  “Will do.” We chatted a few more minutes about various clients.

  “Try to get some sleep,” she finally told me.

  “I will.”

  “I mean it. Just forget about him.”

  “Ty? Ty who?” I punched the off button and slid the phone into my bag. I sat there for a few seconds, awareness rippling up my spine. Geez, just talking about the guy got me worked up—

  The thought stalled as my gaze snagged on the tall, dark, and delicious cowboy standing several yards away near a patch of trees.

  He wore a black leather vest, no shirt, and black pants. His dark, shoulder-length hair flowed down around his broad shoulders. He still bore a few bruises, but all in all he looked as strong and muscular as ever.

  “Thanks to you.” His deep voice echoed in my head and awareness zipped up my spine, and suddenly he was there, standing right in front of me, so tall and powerful and healthy that my heart gave a little jerk. “And your blood,” he added, saying the words aloud this time.

  “Yeah, well, you were in pretty bad shape. I had to do something.”

  “I never did get a chance to tell you how grateful I am.”

  “It’s okay. You weren’t really in any shape to talk.” I drank in his face, from his neon-blue eyes fringed with dark, sooty lashes to his perfect nose, strong jaw, sensual lips. My gaze went to the tiny scar that jagged its way through his eyebrow. It was a leftover from his human days, a reminder that he was different from me, and it should have sent a jolt of reality through me.

  Made vamp. Born vamp. No dice.

  Instead, my fingers itched and I barely resisted the urge to reach out.

  “You look like you’re feeling better,” I said instead.

  “Much.”

  We stood there for the next several minutes, eyeing each other and trying to decide what to say. Crazy, huh? I was closer to him than I’d ever been to anyone—vamp or otherwise—yet I still felt a million miles away.

  “You saved him because you owe him, didn’t you?” I finally asked. The scene had played over in my head many times, stirring many questions and many answers. “You took something from him, someone, and so now you owe him. That’s why you saved him.”

  “I didn’t save him.” His gaze caught and held mine. “I saved you.” He turned away before I could do something crazy like reach out and kiss him (which I so wanted to do). “I know what it’s like to live with blood on my hands,” he said, his gaze hooked on the gardens. “I didn’t want you to have to do the same.” He shook his head. “You’re not like me, Lil.”

  “When did you figure that one out, Sherlock?”

  He flashed a quick grin before the expression faded. “I’m not talking about males and females. Made vamps and born vamps. We’re different in other ways. You’re different. You’ve got—”

  “—a big mouth?” I cut in, reminding him of what he’d told Ash.

  The grin returned for a split second. “That, and you’ve got heart. A conscience.”

  “So do you.”

  He shook his head. “I thought so at one time, but then I did something really bad and it proved otherwise. Logan forced me to face the truth of what I’d done.”

  “He turned you, didn’t he?”

  He nodded. “Back before I was turned, I used to rob banks for a living. Trains mostly. I never hurt anyone. I just took the money and ran. But there was this one job.” He took a few steps, his gaze focused on the distance. “There was only supposed to be a small crew on the train, no passengers. But when I climbed on, there was a whole car full of them. Scared. Screaming. A few of the men tried to rush me and I fired. I hit one in the knee. Another in the shoulder. Nothing deadly. But then this woman…” He closed his eyes. “She came at me full force, screaming and yelling, as if she wanted to rip my head off. I didn’t mean to fire. I tried to hold her off, but the gun discharged and it was done. She took a bullet in the chest and she died right there. She bled all over me.” He ran a hand over his face. “I turned the gun on myself and fired.”

  “You killed yourself?”

  “I tried. I felt so much guilt. I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life like that, so I ended it. Logan found me while there were a few breaths left in my body, saw what I had done, and decided that death was too good for me. I’d killed the woman he loved, the woman he’d intended to turn and spend the rest of eternity with. He knew I was sorry. He could see it in my eyes and he decided the best way to punish me wasn’t to rip out my throat. It was to turn me, to make me live with my regret forever. And that’s what he did. Whenever I find a little happiness and start to forget, he reminds me. That’s what the past few weeks have been about. I was doing just fine, living with my regret, feeling like shit most of the time, and then I met you. You actually made me forget about all of that for a little while. You made me laugh.”

  “Which is why he came after you.”

  He nodded. “That’s why you and I…” He turned toward me and our gazes locked. “We can’t be together.”

  Another black mark on the already overflowing slate of Why Lil Marchette and Ty Bonner have no hope in hell. “I can see your point.”

  “The two of us…It’s a bad idea.”

  I nodded. “Really bad.”

  His eyes darkened and his gaze dropped to my mouth. “The worst,” he added.

  My lips tingled. “The absolute worst.”

  “The last thing I can ever do is get involved with someone.”

  “Me, too. I’m totally focused on my business right now and I certainly don’t need any distractions.”

  “Even meaningless, heat-of-the-moment sex is a bad idea.”

  A memory stirred and my nipples pebbled. I nodded again. “Very bad.”

  “We can’t see each other again. Logan’s watching me. I can’t risk him hurting you. I won’t.”

  “I completely agree. Me being hurt? Not my idea of a good time.” I licked my lips. “Then again, I am a born vampire. An equal match, as we’ve already seen, for this Logan guy.” I was treading tentative ground, but I’d already had all my happily-everafters-with-Ty fantasies ruined. I wasn’t giving up my life-affirming sex one, too. And while Ty was paying a lot of lip service to the whole eternally indebted thing, I knew he secretly wanted me as much as I wanted him. At least I was hoping. “I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”

  He gave me a yeah, right look. “You’re a marshmallow.”

  “A marshmallow who can kick ass when necessary.” My gaze narrowed. “Don’t make me kick your ass and prove it.”

  “You and what army?”

  I eyed my Vivias, debated their going the way of my flip-flops. “Me and my two hot-looking friends.” We faced off for a few minutes and I actually thought he might make a move. Finally, he grinned. “You’re something, you know that?”

  “So they tell me.”

  Another long, silent stretch passed before he finally licked his lips. “I should probably turn and get out of here. I’m meeting Ash on business.”

  “Have a nice afterlife.”

  “You, too.”

  “So go,” I told him when he didn’t budge. “Unless you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

  “Which is?”

  “That maybe we should have a more meaningful goodbye. I mean, it’s obvious we both need some closure, otherwise you’d be history and I’d be gulping down AB negative with the chief of the Fairfield Police Department.”

  His gaze narrowed and shot past me toward the house. “Remy Tremaine’s in there?”

  Okay, so I didn’t purposely try to make Ty jealous, but I have to admit that I was sort of jazzed at the way he looked ready to rip something to shreds.

  “My mother invited him,” I said. “He’s tonight’s fix up.”

  He stared a few more minutes, as if fighting down the jealousy that clawed at him before finally shaking his head. “You’re right. We definitely need some closure.” His gaze met mine. “So what do you have in mind?”
A gleam lit his eyes. “A handshake?”

  “That’s not exactly what I’m thinking.” Kiss me, I sent the silent message. Just kiss me and then you can sweep me up in your arms, we’ll head for the pool house, and we won’t come out until I’ve had a full dozen orgasms and you’re so limp you can barely stand.

  A grin crooked his lips. “A kiss on the cheek.”

  “No.” Dumbass.

  “A wave.”

  “Hardly, although I am tempted to shoot you the bird right now.”

  “A smile?”

  “No.”

  “What then?”

  What the hell? It was the twenty-first century and I certainly wasn’t getting any younger. “This.” And then I kissed him.

  We didn’t end up in the pool house.

  When I finally opened my eyes to come up for air after the best kiss of my afterlife, I found myself on a moonlit beach, sand sucking at my heels, the breeze ruffling my hair.

  “What the—,” I started, but Ty pressed a fingertip to my lips.

  “All vampires have their specialty.” He shrugged. “Mine is illusion.”

  Okay, so I knew all born vampires had a little somethin’ somethin’ in addition to their sweet, addictive scent. A particular power unique to that specific vamp. What I didn’t know was that the Big V Upstairs had doled out a little oomph to made vamps, as well.

  My oldest brother, Max, could summon lightning. Rob could stir up a windstorm. Jack could walk through walls. Me? I could sniff out a bargain within a ten-mile radius.

  Ty’s primo skill, however, had all of us beat.

  I stared around, my eyes wide with amazement. Water rushed in and lapped at the shore. Palm trees swayed. The moonlight reflected off the shimmering water. White sea foam slithered around my shoes.

  “I know you’ve got a thing for the beach.” He knew this because he’d been lurking in my thoughts. And my fantasies.

  I had the sudden notion that I should be properly pissed, but horny kicked righteous indignation’s ass any day. I’d been waiting for this moment for far too long to ruin it by being bitchy.

  I smiled. “It’s perfect.”

  “No.” His dark, smoldering gaze met mine. “Not quite.”

  His eyes traveled the length of my body and just like that, snaps started to pop open and buttons slid free. Material slithered and fell away until I wore nothing but my high heels and an air of impatience. My hands shook and my thighs trembled.

  I wanted him to touch me. I really, really wanted him to touch me. His rough hands on my body. His bare skin pressed to mine. My nipples grew hard, eager, and I gasped for a decent breath to calm my pounding heart.

  “There,” he said after his attention swept me once, twice. “Now it’s perfect.”

  “Says you,” I managed, my voice suddenly thick. “Your turn.”

  I did a little effective ogling—er, I mean staring, and his leather vest slid from his broad shoulders and sinewy arms, and dropped to the sand. Yeah, baby. The top button on his pants popped open and the zipper started to slither down. Halfway, it stalled, unable to make it past the hard-on stretching the material tight.

  I focused all of my energy. Come on. But the damned thing wouldn’t budge.

  “To hell with this,” I finally blurted.

  I crossed the few feet that separated us and went for it. My fingers brushed his crotch, gripped the zipper and gave it a fierce tug. The metal teeth gave and he sprang hard and hot into my hands.

  I stroked his long, hard length, my fingertips tracing the head before sweeping back up and brushing the silky dark hair that surrounded the base of his shaft.

  He groaned, the sound rumbling in my ears, and suddenly I couldn’t wait to get him inside of me.

  I finished undressing him, kicked off my own shoes, and pulled him down to the sand. I straddled him and was this close to sliding down onto his erection when his hands closed over my shoulders and he stopped me.

  “Wait,” he breathed as I stalled, my body poised over the head of his penis.

  “What for?”

  “This.” And then he kissed me, his mouth plundering mine, his tongue plunging deep.

  The kiss was endless, thorough, desperate, and I knew that he couldn’t wait any more than I could.

  He flipped me onto my back, settled between my legs and thrust into me.

  I lifted my hips, sucking him in. I wanted to feel him deeper…harder…there.

  Just. Like. That.

  His groan echoed in my head and I forced my eyes open in time to see him poised over me, his lips parted, fangs bared. His gaze drilled into mine and I caught myself arching my neck toward him.

  Hello? Closure, remember?

  Oh, yeah.

  I closed my eyes, breaking the powerful connection of his gaze meeting mine, and concentrated on having an orgasm.

  Just an orgasm. No biting. No blood drinking. No cosmic connection. No meeting of the minds. Or souls.

  Ty Bonner was NOT my soul mate.

  No matter how much I found myself wishing otherwise.

  Even more, this was it. Our last encounter. One last hurray before he hit the road and I went back to my life. Once the sun started to creep over the horizon, that would be it. The end.

  But until then…

  I slid my arms around his shoulders and surrendered to the delicious sensation swamping my senses. I was going to have the wildest, hottest, most memorable night of my afterlife.

  Guaranteed.

  Epilogue

  “I’m having so much fun!” Mandy announced as she plopped down in the chair next to mine and took a long swig of her frosty margarita.

  She wore a white, makeshift veil dotted with condom packages and a T-shirt decorated with Life-savers and a pink glittery caption that read Suck for a Buck.

  Um, yeah.

  Needless to say, I’d steered clear of any vampire hangouts for tonight’s rite of passage (otherwise referred to as a human bachelorette party). Instead, I’d herded everyone (Mandy, Evie, the Ninas, moi, a couple of Mandy’s cadaver-expert sistahs from the morgue, Esther, and Shirley) into a cab bound for Night of Enchantment, the Brooklyn equivalent of Chippendale’s. I, myself, had opted for an intimate dinner at Spago’s, but then I’d picked up How to Plan a Bachelorette Party She’ll Never Forget (on account of I’m a born vampire who’s never actually planned such a bash). Based on the sample parties I’d read about, I’d quickly changed my mind about the five-star restaurant.

  I’d needed loud. Tacky. Sweaty.

  Voilà!

  I eyed Nightrider, a guy decked out in a cowboy hat, boots, and a leather G-string. He strutted down the catwalk in front of our table and I barely resisted the urge to duck. Talk about a Gatorade commercial just waiting to happen.

  “He’s so hot,” cried one of Mandy’s morgue buddies. “Yoo-hoo!” She stood on her chair and waved a dollar bill. “Over here.”

  “Me, too.” Buddy number two shot to her feet and waved a five.

  “He sort of looks like Wilson when he’s excited about a particular stock option,” Nina Two declared, eyeing the beefcake that sauntered and shimmied our way.

  Nina Deux is the conservative accountant half of the Ninas. She’d been happily committed to her equally conservative financial analyst since I’d hooked them up several months back.

  “Not that I’d spend an entire dollar on a kiss,” she added. “Think what that money could buy.”

  “Lighten up,” Nina One told her. She wore my Hermés scarf (sniff) and a glam pink Chanel sparkle dress. “It’s a party. You’re supposed to get wild and crazy.”

  Despite her advice, I noted that she still had her own roll of ones sitting in front of her. She’d also texted four messages to my brother and was, at this moment, staring at her cell phone, a love-struck expression on her face.

  My heart gave a little hitch and I smiled.

  My gaze shifted to Esther and Shirley, who stood near one of the adjacent stages. They waved dollar bills
at a tall, buff construction worker who went by the name Power Tool. He shook his moneymaker in front of Esther’s awestruck face before plucking the dollar bill from her hand. She panted and I made a mental note to get busy on the made vampire hunt ASAP.

  I owed her BIG TIME.

  She’d really come through on the dress. Inadvertently, of course, but results were results.

  See, she’d been in the middle of finishing up the barest of changes when disaster had struck. The name of said disaster? Miffy. The cat had resented the dress from day one (smart cat), and so when Esther had spread it out on the dining room table for the last cut, the animal had attacked.

  Fab, right?

  Wrong.

  Miffy had done her Fatal Attraction imitation only eight days before the wedding and, even worse, a measly five days before the bridal-portrait sitting. I hadn’t had the heart to tell Mandy, who’d already been muy freaked because my mother had called in the infamous doctor Pierre Claude Van Dorien to document my brother’s condition.

  I’d been so busted.

  My mother (after dishing out enough guilt to get me to agree to a real date with Remy sometime in the near future) had launched a last-ditch effort to break up Jack and Mandy. She’d even hired a private investigator (the woman now hiding in the corner behind an oversized cutout of Zorro) in the frantic hope that Mandy would rip off her clothes and boink Nightrider, or do something equally atrocious. Fuel for my mother to prove to Jack that tomorrow was going to be the biggest mistake of his afterlife.

  Anyhow, the dress had been ruined and we’d had only two choices. Mandy could wear one off the rack from Shirley’s or Esther could attempt to make one from scratch. I’d supplied the material, a dozen bridal magazines, and a temporary home for Miffy, while the made vamp had spent the next five days cutting and sewing.

  Esther had unveiled the finished product at the photographer’s and I’d actually kissed her. A totally sexless, completely heartfelt gesture because, (1) I truly loved the dress and am totally heterosexual, and (2) she would now be taking Miffy home.

  I already had Killer, and one snotty, pretentious, lazy-ass cat hogging the pillow was enough.