So I'm Not a Vampire? (Peaches - A Paranormal Shifter Romance Book 1)

by Rosi S. Phillips

  I was fading fast, but I could have sworn I smelled exotic oil, something from the Middle East, maybe Egypt. I didn’t care. I just hoped they had a buffet in the afterlife.

  Chapter Twelve

  My Life In A Furry Nutshell

  Five days. One work week. It was hardly any time in the grand scheme of it all. But in that time, my life and my death flipped 180. I couldn’t even say I was Georgia Kent anymore. I guess she was the one who’d really died. No, I was just Peaches. Most times crazy, at times gullible, quick-to-anger Peaches. Now I’m Peaches the mystery girl with a vampire husband named Bane. Wow does that sound ... right.

  Though I should probably add that I can read vampires’ thoughts and spit acid. Just something new I’ve learned about myself. Well, that isn’t true. I’d learned plenty: not to judge a book by its cover, stop thinking my life was a movie, and trust people.

  I’ve never really trusted anyone. Not my family, not my ex-boyfriend, and not my co-workers. It’s because at one point or another they screw up. But wasn’t that all a part of it? Life and death, screwing up and making up.

  My friend Karey says that life was a chapter in a big book. Just one. See, she believes in reincarnation and that every life is a new chapter, and death just means that you’ve graduated and learned whatever lesson was in that piece of your life.

  I’d never believed her before. Partly because she’d said it when we were high as kites on some pretty solid weed. But that isn’t the point. The point is she’s right. This is a new chapter with new lessons I’m going to have to learn. It’s an adventure, one that I’ll grow and change on.

  Look at me, sounding all adult and stuff. It almost makes me want to laugh.

  Wait, why don’t I laugh? Oh! I know why. It’s because I’m still asle—

  “Habibi, wake up.” Bane’s voice pulled me away from my self-realization dream and into warm arms.

  I could still smell mold and sea, but it wasn’t as overwhelming. I twisted my head and looked around. There were families around us and the sun was starting to set. I was curled up on Bane’s lap, and to everyone else we probably looked like a couple cozying up.

  I tried to sit up, but he held me down. I looked up and got another unguarded expression from Bane. His lids were lowered, his lips a straight line, and his skin was pale like he might have been sick. I stared for a second longer than smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine, Bane.”

  He leaned down and kissed my forehead, lingering for a second. “I know you are. I could hear your dreams.”

  Oh. “Is that another vampire talent?”

  He shook his head. I could see the answer as clear as day in his brown eyes: it was a Peaches talent.

  I didn’t ask how he’d gotten to me or how I looked. I didn’t over-analyze the tenderness I felt in his arms. I knew I’d deal with that later. In the meantime, I decided to make a mental list of all the things I’d been shoving into one mental box or another because I wasn’t ready, or didn’t want to deal with them. Marrying Bane was high on that list, partly because he’d said that he could’ve found another way to get me out of there. And I’d been wondering why he wouldn’t have a contingency plan if I ended up fucking everything up like I did. Or was marriage to me that contingency plan? I found it hard to believe that a—I paused. Frowned. How was it that I still didn’t know how old Bane was?—bunch-of-years-old vampire didn’t expect humans to mess things up and therefore have back-up plans for his back-up plans.

  Which pretty much brought me to the next thing on my list: figuring out who Bane was and what he wanted. My list was pretty much about Bane with the occasional “see if other supernatural beings exist” and “find out who was trying to collect me” thrown in there. Further down the massive list that even Santa Claus would have blanched at was finding out more about my genealogy and what my parents were, or still are. Could my mom spit acid? Could my dad read vampire minds?

  I snuggled closer to Bane and realized I was covered with one of his jackets. It was nice, kept me grounded in the moment. “One of these days, we’re going to sit down and make a list of vampire powers and my powers, and than we’re going to talk about everything that’s happened.”

  He kissed my head, neither a yes or a no. I let it slide because one, I was still kind of freaked out by the whole near-death-again thing, and two, we had plenty of time to talk about it in the future; we were leg-shackled together, after all. We sat in silence for awhile, enjoying the fading warm breeze. My cheek still stung from Ariel’s slaps, and I was a little miffed that my new powers didn’t include super healing. Thank goodness she hadn’t broken a bone.

  “You’re healing much faster than a normal person, Peaches.”

  Was I? Didn’t feel like it. But then again, I wondered if Ariel had slapped me with her vamp strength or toned it down. From the look on Bane’s face, it was the former. As an afterthought, I asked, “What happened to Ariel?”

  His arms tightened around me. “Ariel is dead.”

  I sighed softly against his chest as I ran my hands over the soft cotton of Bane’s button-down. This time I wasn’t surprised. I could see Bane murdering anyone who tried to hurt me. I was his wife, and from what I’ve seen—and yes, read—vampires were territorial creatures. Still, I wondered if him killing the vamp bitch had really been the best course of action.

  “Aren’t you going to get in some kind of trouble for killing her?” I asked, more out of curiosity and concern for Bane than anything else.

  I didn’t assume there was a vampire rulebook, because, well, me and preconceptions weren’t doing so well together. Bane was silent for a second before he spoke through his teeth. “I didn’t kill her.”

  Huh? I tried to sit up, but he held me down. “Bane, let me up,” I whispered furiously. He finally did, and I moved next to him on the bench. “Who killed her?”

  There was a tick in his jaw, but thankfully he wasn’t looking so pale anymore. His dark chocolate skin was looking nice and healthy, and delicious. Damn, I was hungry! Why was there no burger joint on this pier, or food truck loitering around next to the sidewalks?

  I tried to corral my wayward thoughts—which was an effort, trust me. I looked up into his eyes and gasped at the red I saw there. I backpedaled, but he grabbed me and stopped me.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered vehemently. “I’d never hurt you.”

  I was missing something here, something important. I blamed it on the fact that I’d been nearly choked to death and a couple of my brain cells were taking longer to repair. “Who killed her, Bane?”

  There was that tick again. “I think—” He paused, and the tick moved faster. “I think it was you.”

  “You think?” I yelled at him as I scrambled up from the bench, totally forgetting we were out in public.

  “Couple’s spat?” Casper smirked as he strolled up to us in another Armani suit with far less jewelry.

  I whirled on him and pointed a finger. I wasn’t exactly surprised to see the vampire here. After all, he’d said he was coming. I tried to keep my voice down, but I made sure my tone was good and accusatory. “Do you think I killed Ariel?”

  “Think?” He barked out a laugh. “I know you did.” He came closer and frowned, staring at my arms. “Is that hair?”

  I looked down and saw black stuff on my arms. I scrubbed at it, but it hurt. I tried to pull at it, but it really hurt.

  “It’s fuzz,” Bane said behind me.

  “How did I kill her?” I whispered angrily as I tried to get the black, furry stuff off. She’d been healing when I’d spit acid at her, and she’d been gurgling, but alive, when I’d passed out.

  “Poison.” Casper touched his neck, the same place had Ariel bit me. “I think it’s your blood.”

  “It is not her blood.” He was beside me in a second as I really tried to get the black stuff off. He would know it wasn’t my blood considering he’d had it all last night. I was surprised I wasn’t anemic now.

  “Where’s her bod
y? I want to see it.” I didn’t really want to see it, but a part of me needed to confirm that I’d killed someone. I could deal with Bane murdering the bitch, but me accidentally killing her? It sort of felt like—I feel like this is going to sound super terrible—I’d been cheated.

  I wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer or anything, but Ariel had tried to kill me. Knowing she was dead didn’t hurt me; I knew I’d sleep like a baby. It was the accidental, poison part that chaffed. I’ve always kind of thought that poisoning someone was a sissy way to kill. Was it effective? No doubt, but it was also cowardly, like stabbing someone in the back. I would’ve liked to pull out a gun loaded with silver bullets, or whatever killed vamps, pressed it between Ariel’s eyes, and taken the shot. There was that vicious streak again.

  Casper chuckled like he approved of my thoughts, and shrugged. “Her body’s been disposed of.”

  I turned to Bane and found him smiling at me like I was the biggest, baddest new toy on the block, and the only one he ever wanted to play with. Neither one said that I should be more feminine and cute, or that I should be compassionate and shit. They liked that animal nature in me, my proverbial fangs and claws and … .

  I stopped tugging at the black stuff on my arm as a horrible and brilliant thought came to me. The street lights switched on and the dock we were on flooded with fluorescent lighting, but the night sky was still easy to see.

  There were a couple families on the dock, but they ignored us. I ignored them just the same, and tilted my head up to the sky, searching ... searching ... jackpot!

  Oh, fuck.

  “What is it?” Bane demanded.

  “Something wrong?” Casper followed.

  I looked back down at my arm, watching the black furry stuff grow rapidly. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible, right?

  I stared at Bane and Casper, horrified and confused. “It’s a full moon.” I pointed my thumb at the sky as my stomach rumbled angrily at me. Seriously, there had to be a restaurant close or I was gonna attack someone. “Could I be a werewolf?”

  I was rocking the “I’m not supposed to be surprised, but I’m really fucking surprised” look. Bane’s jaw dropped while Casper burst out laughing and bent over to grab his sides. A few heads turned our way and someone muttered, “Bunch of idiots.”

  Here I was in jeans and a t-shirt that smelled like mold and salt with Bane’s jacket covering my cold arms. My vampire husband was to the left of me, caught between mysticism and incredulity, dressed in all black, while Casper was to my right, doubled over laughing and wrinkling his expensive suit.

  Peaches: a hungry, accidental murderer who spits acid, can read vampire minds, might have poison in her blood, has black fur growing on her arms, and could potentially be a werewolf. I sighed loud and long. Yup, that sounded like my life.

  Find out what else is in store for Peaches in the sexy sequel: Could I be a Werewolf?

  Available FREE for Kindle Unlimited customers! Read on for a preview chapter!

  Could I be a Werewolf?

  PREVIEW CHAPTER

  The Bane Of My Existence

  “You are not a werewolf,” my husband growled as we sped through D.C. in a Lamborghini that went perfectly with my flaming red hair. I rolled my eyes at him as I scarfed down my fifth burger, barely stopping to breathe.

  See, my vampire husband, Bane, thinks he’s always right. He thinks that because he’s older than dirt, he has a monopoly on correct answers. So far I haven’t been able to disprove that theory, so instead of trying to compare the black fuzzy stuff growing on my arms to werewolf fur, I used a different tactic.

  I turned to him and braced my hands against the dashboard, because he was going well over the speed limit. While we both might be dead, I wasn’t a vampire. In fact, we still didn’t know what I was.

  “Then what am I, Bane? Huh?” I demanded around a bite.

  I watched his knuckles tighten and his fangs lengthen. I’d never seen his fangs lengthen outside of the bedroom. I wondered if he would pull over, find an alley, and fuck me seven ways to Heaven in the tiny car. I wouldn’t complain if he did, but I sort of worried about losing Casper, Bane’s vamp friend, because he was following us in his car.

  Ya know what, he should. Screw the fact that I was still puffy and sore from our morning adventures, or that I had blood on me, or that I had a sore cheek from a lunatic vampire bitch slapping me a bunch of times; maybe a good, quick screw was just what I needed.

  Bane took his eyes off the road as he rubbed my clit harder. “You know it wouldn’t be quick, Peaches. You know I’d—”

  A different vampire, yelling in my mind, cut off what my sexy and naughty husband was about to say. “I can hear your thoughts all the way over here in my Prius. We have a task at hand, Peaches. You need to calm your libido.”

  “You calm your libido!” I hissed back through the mind-call, because I was the queen of witty comebacks. Uh-huh.

  Casper, the German vampire currently in my head, laughed and cut the call. I turned back to Bane, and his hand wasn’t between my legs anymore but wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. “I couldn’t read your mind.”

  I shrugged. His jacket slid off my shoulder, but I tugged it back on. “I was talking to Casper.”

  “You were talking to Casper.” Bane’s Egyptian accent was back, thick and filled with restrained fury. “You can talk to Casper, and when that happens I can’t read your mind.”

  I sighed and blew out enough wind to shake a tree. I was getting lost in the chaos that was my mind and, well, not my mind. Five days ago this wouldn’t have been a problem, but then again, five days ago a lot of things wouldn’t have been problems. For instance, until I'd woken up in my university hospital’s morgue after a very embarrassing death involving my ex-boyfriend reenacting a scene from Deep Throat with our Chinese take out man, followed by me tripping on his front steps and falling and cracking my head, I’d never thought I was a vampire. Naturally, waking up after dying, it seemed like the best answer.

  A fat—excuse me, muscular—cat named Bane had not only demolished that idea, but also vowed to help me figure out what I was. Some stuff happened. We went to a vampire party, my big mouth opened and stupid came out, so we had to be married. Then I got kidnapped by a psycho vampire bitch who I vomited acid on, and then apparently killed with my poisonous blood.

  That was my life—I mean my death—in a nutshell. Except I still had no freaking clue what I was, because, as my vampire husband, who sometimes turned into a black cat, had said about a hundred times, I wasn’t a vampire and he didn’t know what I was. I was Mystery Girl (cue fifties superhero music), the most complicated superhero in the world.

  Bane pulled up to our hotel with Casper hot on our heels. He threw the car keys at the valet, then waited for Casper to get out of his car and do the same. I just stood there, munching on some fries, until we went in.

  The guys surveyed the five-star hotel’s lobby like ninjas and cops were going to pop out of the woodwork. I, however, just walked on by without a care in the world, because if someone did attack me, I’d just spit acid on them and force my blood down their throats. Did I mention I have a violent streak?

  My mom used to hate it and tell me that ladies didn’t punch people in the face. She’d also been the epitome of a sophisticated woman, with silky auburn hair cut in a bob, shapely legs, and the kind of soft voice angels envied. My mom and I couldn’t have been more different. In fact, the only thing we shared was our ADD. My dad used to call us squirrels, because we could never focus on anything long enough.

  Case in point: I was still thinking about a family I could never return to because I was dead, married to a vamp, and had black furry stuff growing on my body, when we walked into our hotel suite and came face to face with Luther and his girlfriend.

  Bane was in front of me in a second, protecting me like I was some damsel in distress. As a size sixteen—on the best day of the year—with a violent streak, I’d never be considered a damsel. Dams
els fainted and waved tissues in the wind to the knights who went off to die for their chastity or whatever. That wasn’t me, and, if my kick ass new powers had anything to say about it, would never be me.

  “Move it, Bane.” I nudged him with my elbow.

  Bane looked over his shoulder and down at me. I hated when he did that, even though he sort of did it a lot. The dude was tall, like really tall, and had this whole caveman thing going on. He had Joe Manganiello’s height and protectiveness—I mean, Alcide’s from True Blood — coupled with Jason Momoa's Conan the Barbarian ruthless attitude. Yeah, I watched way too much TV and knew way too many sexy-as-sin actors’ names. Maybe I had, on occasion, cyber-stalked them and imagined being with either man, or both men, as their prisoner on a deserted island with no clothes, and a beach house with a king size bed and full kitchen.