Bring On the Night (30 page)

“Oh God,” he said. Not an “oh God” of shock or dismay, but the kind of “oh God” a guy makes when a woman strokes him in the happiest place possible.

He rose from his seat, and for a moment I thought he’d crawl over his desk. His eyes burned with the same hunger I felt in my own throat.

“Guys…” Regina said. “This really isn’t the time.”

Her voice sounded far away, drowned by the blood rushing in my ears. David’s blood, thumping through his arteries, cruising through his veins, squeezing through his capillaries. I could hear it, smell it, taste it through his skin. My mouth opened—

—and spiked with sudden, shrieking pain, like getting my teeth pulled without novocaine. I doubled over, clutching Regina’s arm to keep from falling. A sound like an air-raid siren squealed from my throat as the pain spread through my jaw and around my head.

This is it, I’m dying for good. No one told me my brain could explode from bloodlust.

The pain faded as fast as it had appeared. I touched my jaw, my ears, and my forehead, searching for the source of the sensation before remembering where it had started.

My teeth.

Regina whistled. “About time. Bitchin’ fangs.”

David wavered, eyes heavy lidded. “They are truly
bitchin’,” he slurred. “Come closer so I can see.”

I did not need to be asked twice.

Regina moved between us and slapped him across the face. “Snap out of it! You’re our boss, not our breakfast.”

I carefully examined the two protruding teeth with my thumb. “Will it always hurt that much when they come in?”

“First time is the worst,” Regina said. “Eventually it’ll be like blinking.” She tilted my chin and peered in my mouth. “Of course it hurt you more than most, since you’re a wimp.”

I pulled away from her and turned to David. Regina promptly stepped between us again.

“Explain the phone thing,” she told me. “Without looking at him.”

I dropped my gaze to the pointed steel toes of my boots. “His name’s Ken.” Thrilled that I didn’t lisp even my first sentences with the new fangs, I continued. “Tell him to leave his cell phone up here, that we’re extra cautious about being recorded or photographed.”

I rubbed my right ear in a futile attempt to block the sound of David’s blood. His pulse was still racing, flushing his extremities—yes,
all
his extremities.

“Who is this guy?” he asked.

“He’s a—a dancer.” I wiped my forehead, still looking at the floor. “Last Thursday we texted about Lori’s bachelorette party, and I told him I might have chicken pox.”

Lori. Crap. How could I look at her knowing how much I wanted sink my teeth into her fiancé and lick every drop of whatever came out?

“Ohhh. I see.” His pulse slowed, probably since he was focusing on my safety instead of my fangs. “Wait—you hired Lori a stripper?”

“Good,” Regina said, “you still remember her. Moving
on.” She poked my arm. “Tell him what to do.”

“Delete my text message, obviously,” I told the rip in the rug, “and any replies in his outbox.”

“Right.” David paused. “What are you two going to do to him?”

“Don’t worry,” Regina said. “He’ll be happy. And more important, quiet.”

“Ciara, you okay with this?” he asked in a gentle voice.

I felt so miserable, I needed to see the eyes of a friend. A human friend.

I raised my gaze to meet David’s. And knew, with a sudden, crashing heartbreak, that we could not be friends.

He moved as if to rush toward me, the way a lover rushes toward one he’s lost and found again. My mouth watered and every muscle tensed to spring.

Regina jerked me back into the main office and slammed David’s door. “Easy there, pet. Ken’ll take that edge off.”

“I don’t want Ken,” I whined. “I want David.”

“You can’t have David right now. You’d tear his throat out.”

“What about in an emergency? He does that for the rest of you.” My speech sped up as she led me down the stairs, away from my one true meal. “He let Shane bite him once, when Shane’s donors were all busy or sick.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when—” She stopped suddenly and cocked her head to listen. “Ken’s early. Very good sign.”

I heard it then, too, the approach of a car engine and the rumble of wheels against gravel. My stomach clenched in anticipation. David had awakened a major case of the munchies.

Regina secured us in the lounge, where a rubber seal on the door’s bottom edge kept out every photon of light.

“Let’s relax for a second and chat.” She led me to the couch and sat beside me.

Close beside me.

With her hand resting inside my right thigh.

I looked at it, then at her face. “What are you—”

“Shh.” She leaned over and brought her lips near my ear. “If you’re a good girl and do what I say, I’ll show you what Shane saw in me for so many years.”

“But I’m not—I don’t—”

“What? Like girls?” She took my face between her hands. “Welcome to the jungle, cutie pie. This is your life now, so get with the program. You have to touch and kiss and fondle people who make you want to puke. You do it so you can survive. Shane will learn to live with it, and so will you.”

“He doesn’t hook up with his donors anymore. Why should I?”

“He’s spent years building trust with those people. He can afford to be choosy. You don’t have that luxury.” She kissed me on the forehead, soft as a mother. “There are a million reasons why so few girl vamps survive, but I’ll teach you everything. How to stay safe, how to say no when things get dodgy. How to live with yourself.” Her grip on my head tightened. “But you have to trust me, okay?”

My eyes grew hot, and I wanted to run away and cry in Shane’s arms, have him stroke my hair and tell me it would all be easy, that being a vampire meant a few minor inconveniences instead of these soul-killing compromises.

But I’d chosen this so-called life, like every life I’d had up to this point. I had more experience as a predator than most fledglings; instead of denying that past, I could use it as
a source of strength. I could use it to survive.

I met Regina’s dark, formidable gaze. “Okay.”

A knock came on the outside door upstairs. David’s footsteps crossed the ceiling, and my muscles tensed again as my thirst surged.

Soon the stairs creaked and the door opened. David and Ken stood together. I noticed the superficial resemblance—the soft, dark brown hair, the animated green eyes, the perennial tan. But I felt nothing when I looked at Ken and everything when I looked at David.

David gripped the doorframe as if to keep himself from lunging forward. “I’ll be upstairs. Call if you need anything.”

He disappeared, shutting the door behind him. Dismay stabbed the back of my throat, making me whimper.

Regina closed her hand over mine. “Hey there, Ken.”

His gaze fixed on her face. “I thought about you all weekend. At my next assignment, I pretended I was dancing for you. I got the most tips ever in my life.”

“Lovely.” She scooted over to make room between us. “Come sit.”

Ken did as she said, as automatically as a remote-controlled robot. When he passed in front of me, he bumped my knee, then looked at my face for the first time.

“You’re that girl who hired me.” He took in my outfit. “You look different.”

“I am different.” I held out my hand. “That’s what we need to discuss.”

He grasped my hand, and I tried not to flinch as his flesh almost singed me. How many hours had it been since I’d drunk? I got cold so quickly.

When he sat between us, I slid my hand over his chest to warm my freezing palm. His pulse was already pounding,
and his pores emitted desire with a faint, bitter taint of fear, like a pinch of hot curry powder. The red of his shirt (Regina’s request) made my mouth water.

His eyelashes flickered as he tried to play it cool. “So, um, what did you want to talk about?”

“Kenneth.” Regina rested her elbow on the back of the couch and set her chin atop her folded hands, a few inches from his face. “Do you mind if I call you Kenneth?”

“No.” He breathed harder, like his full name turned him on. “Please.”

“Kenneth, you know what we are, don’t you?”

“Um, a couple of major hotties?”

With one long-nailed fingertip, she turned his chin to face her. “We’re vampires.”

He laughed. “Right, the radio thing. Hey, I’ve been thinking about adding a vampire routine to my dancing repertoire. Girls love that.”

“Brilliant,” Regina purred. “I’d love to see it.” She drew the
l
s over her tongue in a way that made me want to take notes, then smiled to display her fangs.

“Whoa.” Ken pulled away from her, turned to me, then saw my fangs as I gave a similar wide smile. “Where’d you guys get those? They look real.”

“That’s because they are real.” My fingers slid up the buttons of his polo shirt as I fought the urge to rip the whole thing off. “Do you want to feel them?”

He reached forward eagerly and brushed his thumb against my mouth. The scents of soap and yeast wafted from his open palm. Had he been up early making Sherwood’s last prequarantine pizzas?

“Ow!” He jerked his hand away and gaped at the bright spot of blood on his thumb. Without thinking I leaned
forward and licked it. He moaned, lashes fluttering. The sound and taste tipped my brain into a death spiral of bloodlust.

“Good,” Regina murmured as she ran one hand through his hair. “You believe us now?”

“Mmm.” He closed his eyes at the sensation of her nails against his scalp. “I don’t care.”

“Even better.” She turned his head and gave him a light, teasing kiss that brushed her tongue against his lips. His breath seized, and I could hear the blood surge south.

“Wait,” he said, “if you’re vampires, how come you’re awake after sunrise?”

Her chuckle almost hid her annoyance. “Do you fall asleep at sunset?” she asked as she drew her mouth along his earlobe, tugging with her human teeth.

“No, but—”

“If you can stay up at night, we can stay up at day.” She slid her hand under his shirt. “All day, if necessary.”

“Whatever.” He slid one hand behind her neck and pulled her into a deeper kiss, letting his other hand fall to my thigh. It was so warm, I didn’t care when his fingers dug under the elastic of my stockings and stroked the bare flesh beneath.

Still, I was glad when he kept his focus on Regina, dragging her to straddle his lap and peeling open her leather vest to fill his hands with her black-lace-covered breasts.

Boom. Boom.
The pounding of his blood blotted out all other sound, even the rolling reggae tune playing over the ceiling speaker.

Boom. Boom.
My fangs seemed to quiver in perfect rhythm, pulsing with the need to pierce his flesh.

Regina peeled off his shirt, then slid her hand between their bodies and unfastened his jeans. He panted harder as she stroked him.

Boom. Boom.
The sound pummeled my lungs and heart, like a giant woofer speaker at a rock concert with the bass overcranked. It was almost too much to bear.

Regina bent over to bite his arm.

“No,” he gasped. “Not there. Do the neck.”

She looked up at him, her fangs an inch from his skin. “Why?”

“It’ll leave a mark.” He wiped his mouth, struggling for breath. “On my neck I can cover it up.”

“How?”

“I have a waiter’s costume with a bow tie.”

“Necks are more romantic, anyway, don’t you think?” She slid off him onto her feet. “But you have to lie down or it could kill you.”

Ken seemed happy to take orders from her. Which was good—the air embolism explanation always made me queasy.

He hurried to stretch out on his back, using my thigh as a pillow. He smiled up at me as she stripped off his pants and boxers. “Are you going to watch us fuck?”

I glanced at Regina, not wanting to be the one to break it to him. So far he seemed content, without me having to do much more than look cute, and much less than what Ken did in his own allegedly non-slutty job. I’d managed not to even check out his goods, thanks to the careful drape of my hair over that side of my face.

Regina pinned his bare legs together with her stocking-clad knees. “Sorry, Kenneth,” she said with heartbreaking sincerity as she tiptoed her fingers up his chest. “We can’t fuck. I don’t want to hurt you.” He started to protest, and she laid a finger on his lips. “We can do anything else. Anything you want.”

His face turned blank and panicky, like a kid on Santa’s lap who forgot what he wanted for Christmas.

She slid her tongue up his chest to the hollow of his neck. “What’s it gonna be, boy?”

He remained frozen, hands on her elbows. In my thirst and impatience, I must have sighed, because his attention shifted to me. His face lit up.

“I wanna see y’all make out.”

Sick of Myself

Somewhere in my mind, a little voice said, “I told you so.” The voice sounded a lot like Shane. Men know men.

I jumped to my feet, dumping Ken’s head against the cushion. “I don’t think so.”

“Aw, come on,” he said. “You promised me anything.”

Regina looked down at him. “That’s all you need this time?”

I gave her a sharp glare she didn’t see.

Ken’s eyes widened. “
This
time? I can come back?”

“If you behave yourself.” She drew her fingernail over his cheek, then down his neck. “If we can drink you.”

I waved frantically at her, out of his peripheral vision, but she ignored me.

“Then, yeah, that’s all. You two go at it. I’ll take care of the rest.” His hand slid down to grip his—
Whoa
. He had definitely not stuffed that G-string.

I forced myself to look at Regina. She was gazing up at me through ink-black lashes. Her head tilted, motioning me to sit on the floor next to the couch.

Ken was watching me, too. I hoped he took my hesitation for some reluctant-lesbian act. If he knew how much I
wanted to run, cry, or puke (or all three at once), he’d leave right now and never come back. If they interviewed him, he’d tell them I never had chicken pox, and I’d be quarantined in a place where I’d see one last sunrise.