by Molly Harper
We talked about our favorite movies, our favorite bands. We talked about our fandoms. (I was a Ravenclaw and he was a Hufflepuff, which almost ended the conversation right there.) We talked about our favorite obscure gummy candy. (I didn’t even realize there was such a thing as gummy bacon strips.)
It was almost two when he finally had to go, but he’d grinned kind of sheepishly and said, “So, I was thinking that we’d skip the whole ‘will he call or won’t he’ drama by my just asking you out now. And I’m not going to play around with some silly coffee date, either. I’m going straight to dinner. Maybe even a place with actual metal silverware.”
“A true gentleman draws the line at plastic sporks,” I told him, my lips quirking as I fought a smile. It was a charming, if wordy, way to ask me out, and I could appreciate that. “And, if you were to ask me out, there’s a pretty good chance I would say yes, just to take the pressure off you.”
The smile that broke over his face was blinding. “That’s good to know.”
I waited, in silence, while he stared at me.
“Oh, you want me to ask now?” he said. I pursed my lips and waggled my hand back and forth as he leaned closer. “Man, you’re pushy.”
I burst out laughing, even as his arms slipped around my waist. This was what girls my age were supposed to do. Flirt with nice boys and stay out late, not worry about bills and my hours getting cut. “I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be all forthright. This whole conversation reeks of Slytherin sass.”
“Oh, wow,” he said, his lips barely brushing against my own. “You are a nerd.”
“Still better than being a Hufflepuff,” I murmured against his mouth.
“You’re gonna have to let that go,” he said, his mouth closing over mine. As far as first kisses went, it was . . . pretty amazing. Sweet and slow and warm, with just a hint of tongue. I felt it all the way down to my toes, which were currently curling in my cute little black boots. We only broke apart when kids leaving the party came filtering out of the lobby and catcalled us.
“It’s not likely,” I said, when he pulled away.
“So . . . dinner,” he said. “In a place without sporks. When would be a good time for you?”
“Saturday would be good,” I told him.
“Six?” he asked. I nodded and he gave me another quick peck on the lips. “Awesome, I will call you. And if I don’t call, you text me, call me a dumbass, and I will send apology cookies.”
“Cookies?” I asked as he backed away.
“Flowers have been overdone,” he called back.
I giggled—honest-to-God giggled—but I managed not to do the awkward little wave my arm ached to give.
Suddenly, I heard a quick bark of warning, but before I could even respond, I felt a crushing blow against my chest. I was knocked off my feet and thrown into the wall behind me. I felt my head collide with the stone with a sick crack before I collapsed to the ground like a broken doll.
Ben screamed my name but I couldn’t even lift my head. His voice grew closer, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I had never known pain like this in my life. My chest felt hot and wet, on the inside and outside. I couldn’t feel anything below my waist. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move enough air through my throat to produce words. People gathered around me, staring down at my twisted body with expressions of horror on their faces.
Ben lifted something off my chest. It appeared to be a forty-five-pound dumbbell weight. The vampires were playing Ultimate Frisbee with a forty-five-pound weight. And they’d missed.
My brain was going dark, as if I was slipping away into some corner deep inside my head, where it didn’t hurt so much. I could feel the grass under my back getting slick and hot while I got colder.
Ben was screaming for help, for someone to call 911. I managed to lift my arms enough to feel that my ribs were definitely going the wrong direction. Tina, our dorm director, suddenly appeared over me, her frizzy brown hair forming a cloud around her head. Through the haze of pain and blood pounding in my ears, I heard her squeaky voice say, “This is bad. I can see her ribs poking out through her shirt. This is really bad.”
That was exactly what I needed to hear.
I opened my mouth to point out how unhelpful this was, but blood was bubbling up between my lips, making it hard to push air through to form sounds.
Please, help me. Please.
I didn’t want to die. I was too young. I hadn’t seen anything of the world. I’d barely left Kentucky. I’d barely lived.
“You’re going to be OK,” Ben told me sternly, like he could command me to get up and shake it off. He cupped my chin in his hand and moved my head gently so I was forced to meet his eyes. “Meagan, just keep breathing. Stay awake.”
I was trying. Couldn’t he see how hard I was trying? The tiny flow of oxygen I was drawing in through my nose seemed like a championship effort.
“Meagan,” Tina said, wiping at my mouth and smearing her hands with bright red. “I’m not a doctor, but you have a lot of injuries and they are pretty bad. The chances of you surviving this . . . I don’t know if the ambulance will get to you in time. You signed your consent form before you moved in, but I have to ask you again: Do you want to be turned?”
I nodded my head, or at least, I thought I did. I couldn’t really feel much anymore.
Anything to make the pain go away. Anything to avoid dying. Please.
“Can I get a vampire volunteer?” Tina yelled. “I need a vampire to act as an emergency sire! Get over here and present your Council card!”
My eyes fluttered shut and I heard Ben cry for me to stay awake, to keep my eyes open. Everything felt heavy and cold, dragging me down into the darkness. Someone lifted my arms and slashed at my wrists, pain that barely registered against the agony in my chest. I was cold and tired and I hurt so much. It seemed so much easier to just go to sleep, to let go and drift off, even as something cool and coppery dripped into my mouth.
The last thing I remembered was Ben yelling, “Meagan!”
* * *
* * *
The memory faded and here was Ben again, standing in my hospital room, bleeding, and my fangs were out. Because I was a vampire. This was bad. This was so very bad.
“How are you already awake?” Ben asked, pushing to his feet and stumbling toward me as I backed away.
Thump-a-thump-a-thump.
“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head, clamping my lips around my teeth. “But I think you need to get away from me. Ben, you’re bleeding.”
“What?” He glanced down at his hand. “Oh.”
I slapped my hands over my fangs, but he didn’t move away like I expected. In fact, he stepped closer, edging me back until the backs of my legs bumped against the bed. That burning thirst crackled through my throat, making the act of swallowing painful.
Thump-a-thump-a-thump.
“But you’re OK?” he asked, the corners of his mouth lifting into a hopeful smile.
“Ben, you need to get away from me,” I told him, even as my nose followed that delicious scent and urged me forward. My lips parted and I could literally feel my mouth water at the scent of him. I was lucky I wasn’t drooling down my chin.
“You’re so beautiful. I mean, you were gorgeous before, but now? You should see yourself.” He reached his uninjured hand up to my cheek and stroked his thumb down the curve of my face. I leaned into the caress like a cat, nuzzling my nose against his wrist. He smelled so good and my throat was so dry. And every cell in my body had my neck straining forward, lips curled back from my fangs.
Thump-a-thump-a-thump.
I couldn’t. I couldn’t hurt Ben.
But I was so thirsty, so thirsty and empty and in need of Ben’s blood. And that speeding heartbeat seemed like it was taunting me, ringing in my ears, reminding me of what I desperately needed.
“Ben . . .” I lunged forward, sinking those sharp teeth into his wrist. He yelled out in surprise, his arms contracting around me and scrabbling harmlessly at my back.
The most luscious, delectable flavor I’d ever tasted flooded my mouth. It was better than ice cream and brownies combined, warm and sweet and electric. I swallowed, and the ache that had tickled my throat since the moment I woke up faded away in an instant. I swallowed again, whimpering with pleasure, even as Ben’s fingers dug into my back.
I took a few more swallows. Now that the worst of my thirst seemed to have burned away, I loosened my grip on Ben’s arm. He relaxed against me, breathing harshly into my neck as if he’d just run a marathon.
“Be careful,” he wheezed through gritted teeth. “Don’t take too much.”
Ben. My brain seemed able to focus now, on something other than my thirst, and I could pick up Ben’s good, clean, mossy scent beyond the smell of his blood. Ben, the boy who had kissed me and teased me and asked me on an actual date instead of texting me for a hookup.
Thump . . . thump . . .
His heart rate was slowing, ever so slightly. If I kept drinking, his heart wouldn’t have enough blood to pump through his body, and his blood pressure would drop. I would kill him.
Groaning, I forced myself to pull my fangs from his skin. It took all of my strength to push him away. He stared at me, his eyes wide and pupils blown, as he gulped in greedy lungfuls of air. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I eyed Ben carefully. He seemed fine—out of breath and a little pale, but fine. And I could hear his heart rate returning to normal.
“I’m so sorry,” I told him. “I don’t know what I’m doing!”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, cradling his bitten arm against his chest. “It’s just a bite, right?”
“I suck,” I groaned, flopping onto my hospital bed.
“Well, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “But that’s to be expected.”
I snorted. “That’s not funny, Ben.”
He shrugged. “It’s a little funny. And hey, you stopped, right? That’s crazy advanced for a newborn, stopping yourself mid-feeding without hurting anybody.”
“Yay for me,” I muttered.
Thump . . . thump . . .
“I’m just glad you stopped drinking my blood. Otherwise, worst first date ever,” Ben intoned.
I sat up, tilting my head. “If this is your idea of a date, I do not want to know the rest of your romantic history.”
“It is a sordid and blood-soaked romp,” he deadpanned.
“No, it’s not,” I told him.
He grinned. “No, it’s not. But it is incredibly weird and a teeny bit sordid.”
“But you’re OK?” I asked him, standing again.
Thump . . . thump . . .
He blew a raspberry. “Fine. Give me a cookie and juice and I’ll be at a hundred percent.”
“Really? You got blood donation jokes right now?”
Thump . . .
Ben snickered and parted his lips to say something else, but suddenly his face went slack. The rosy glow faded from his cheeks and they went ashen and pale. His eyes rolled up and he dropped to the floor, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. He flopped into a boneless heap, his head smacking dully against the tile.
“Ben!” I shrieked, launching myself across the room to kneel over him. He wasn’t breathing. His heart rate had slowed to nothing. Why hadn’t I noticed? I hadn’t taken that much blood. Why had he collapsed?
“Help!” I screamed. “Help me! Please!”
I tilted his head back and tried to breathe some life back into him. But his chest rose once, and nothing. Trying to remember something from the first-aid class I’d taken in high school, I crossed my hands over his heart and pushed down to start CPR. I felt something crack dully under my hands and I shrieked.
I’d broken his ribs. I forgot about my strength and I’d broken his bones in my panic. “Help!” I screamed, before trying to breathe into his mouth again.
I glanced around the room—there had to be something in here to help me. There was no phone. There were no medical kits. But near the door, next to the light switch, there was a bright red button labeled “V11.”
It looked like a nurse call button in a hospital room. V11 was the World Council for the Equal Treatment of the Undead’s hotline for humans with vampire problems.
And I was up to my ass in vampire problems.
Scrambling to my knees, I slapped my hand against the call button and crab-walked back to Ben. An alarm roared to life, echoing down the hall. I left a bloody handprint on the plaster near the call button.
Ben still wasn’t breathing and his skin was getting paler and grayer by the minute. I couldn’t hear a heartbeat. His eyes were unfocused, staring off at the ceiling.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, cradling his body in my lap. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
Twin drops of water fell onto Ben’s gray cheek, tinged with a hint of pink. Because vampire tears have the tiniest bit of blood in them. And I was a vampire.
This was bullshit.
Before I could release more of those tears, the alarm bell stopped and the door burst open. I closed my eyes, expecting some sort of vampire SWAT team to come spilling into the room and stake me. Because they were going to kill me. The Council did not tolerate vampires who attacked innocent humans, no matter how newly risen. They were going to come in here and stake me. I could only hope they made it quick.
But the expected staking did not come. I cracked one eye open and saw a pretty brunette vampire in a purple Specialty Books T-shirt standing in the doorway. The ID badge around her neck read “Jane Jameson-Nightengale.” Her jaw was slack and she was shaking her head as she stared at me.
“Help me,” I whimpered.
She seemed to snap out of her stupor and glanced down at the dead boy in my arms, then blanched. “Holy hell, what did you do to Ben?”
Want more Molly Harper?
How did Andrea and Dick Cheney fall in love? Join Half-Moon Hollow’s favorite couple for a trip down memory lane—to a time when Mr. Wainwright was newly dead, Jane Jameson was a newbie vampire, and a budding paranormal romance was not yet uncorked . . .
Fangs for the Memories
CLICK HERE TO ORDER
* * *
In this installment in Molly Harper’s Half Moon Hollow paranormal romance series, Libby (a widow turned vampire) struggles with her transition, and finds out it sucks to be the only vampire member of the PTA . . .
The Single Undead Moms Club
CLICK HERE TO ORDER
* * *
Gigi is no longer an innocent teen. All grown up and looking for love, her family and friends worry she’ll go for the sexy, alluring vampire instead of a nice, safe human. But sexy and alluring, with a penchant for biting, could be just what Gigi wants . . .
The Dangers of Dating a Rebound Vampire
CLICK HERE TO ORDER
* * *
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About the Author
MOLLY HARPER is the author of The Single Undead Moms Club, The Dangers of Dating a Rebound Vampire, and The Care and Feeding of Stray Vampires, as well as many other paranormal romances. She also writes the Bluegrass series of contemporary ebook romances, most recently Snow Falling on Bluegrass. A former humor columnist and newspaper reporter, she lives in Kentucky with her husband and children. Visit her on the Web at MollyHarper.com or at SingleUndeadFemale.blogspot.com.
FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR: Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Molly-Harper
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Books by Molly Harper
In the World of Half-Moon Hollow
Big Vamp on Campus
Fangs for the Memories
The
Single Undead Moms Club
The Dangers of Dating a Rebound Vampire
I’m Dreaming of an Undead Christmas
“Undead Sublet” in The Undead in My Bed
A Witch’s Handbook of Kisses and Curses
The Care and Feeding of Stray Vampires
Driving Mr. Dead
Nice Girls Don’t Bite Their Neighbors
Nice Girls Don’t Live Forever
Nice Girls Don’t Date Dead Men
Nice Girls Don’t Have Fangs
The Naked Werewolf Series
How to Run with a Naked Werewolf
The Art of Seducing a Naked Werewolf
How to Flirt with a Naked Werewolf
The Bluegrass Series
Snow Falling on Bluegrass
Rhythm and Bluegrass
My Bluegrass Baby
Also
Better Homes and Hauntings
And One Last Thing . . .
Available from Pocket Books
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