Legally Undead (31 page)

The blankets tangled around my legs, so I kicked them to the floor. Malcolm’s mouth trailed down my throat. He licked the space between my breasts and I moaned softly. He turned his head to take my nipple into his mouth and rolled it around his tongue. My back arched as hot sparks of excitement trailed down my stomach, following his tongue.

No, no, no. This wasn’t enough. I pulled him back up and rolled over so that I was half on top of him. My hand fumbled at the button of his jeans. He laughed softly, such a deep, sensual sound that I leaned down to kiss him again, my tongue exploring his mouth. This time he moaned, and reached down to help me with his jeans. I tugged, and he skimmed out of them.

“Wait,” he said as I started to toss them onto the floor with his t-shirt. His hand scrabbled around in the back pocket and he pulled out his wallet. Flipping it open, he extracted a wrapped condom from the back compartment.

“Should I ask how old that is?” I smiled as I spoke.

“Probably not.” He set it down on the bedside table and slid his arm around me, pulling me back down to kiss him again. I reached down to hold him, and he was hard, hot and ready.

I sprinkled little kisses across his chest and down his stomach to his groin. As I reached his waist, he suddenly froze.

“Stop,” he said. His voice sounded strangled, like he was having to force it out of his throat. “No. Don’t. Not that.”

I lifted my head and looked up at him questioningly. “Okay,” I said, but I couldn’t keep the confusion out of my voice or my eyes. I let go of him and moved back up to rest my head on his shoulder.

He covered his eyes with his hands. “It’s just… I can’t…. The vampires. They…” His words trailed off.

Oh, no. How could I have been so stupid? I’d seen the wound on his inner thigh. And I knew how much like sex a vampire’s bite could be. Of course they had played up that connection.

“Shh,” I whispered. “It’s okay. I understand.” I moved over him and pulled his hands away from his eyes. I wrapped his arms around me, leaning in to kiss him.

It took a moment, but then he was kissing me again. He rolled me over and pinned me to the bed, holding my hands above me. He let go long enough to unwrap the condom and slide it over the length of him, and then he was inside me. We clung to each other desperately, as if we were trying to crawl inside one another’s skin with every movement, every thrust. I felt all the tension of the last few months building inside me, causing me to whimper and pull Malcolm closer. Malcolm moved faster, rocking us both back and forth on the bed, and I felt the pressure growing. Finally it burst forth, washing over me in wave after wave of ecstatic pleasure. My hands tightened spasmodically on Malcolm’s back, and he groaned my name as he, too, found the release we’d both been looking for.

Afterwards, we lay breathing heavily, still holding on to one another.

And then we slept.

* * *

When I woke up again, Malcolm’s arm was slung across my chest. I eased my way out from under it and slipped on my clothes. I opened the door as quietly as I could, then slipped out into the dimly lit hallway.

The shop had that nobody’s-awake stillness to it; I could feel the presence of other people, but I couldn’t really hear them. I stood outside the room where we had laid out Nick’s body, listening for a moment. I didn’t hear anything inside. I didn’t feel anyone’s presence either.

Of course I wouldn’t, not with the whole “Nick’s dead” thing. I hesitated, unsure whether or not I really wanted to go back in and see his body. But I needed to say goodbye, so I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Nick was gone.

I stood staring at the empty bed a lot longer than I should have. And then I raced down the hallways as silently as possible. If I was wrong, I didn’t want to worry anyone else.

But I wasn’t wrong.

Nick’s body wasn’t in Tony’s lab.

It wasn’t in any of the other empty rooms I checked.

And when I sprinted through the garage, it wasn’t in the van, either—though the back was still covered in his blood.

When I finally left the building entirely, I stood bent with my hands on my knees, gasping, as much from panic as from exertion.

When I looked down at the end of the block, Nick was standing under a streetlight.

I swear to God I saw the light glint off a fang. My hand drifted toward the stake I had automatically shoved into my waistband when I dressed, but it never made contact before falling back down by my side.

Nick waved a sort of salute at me, and then the shadows swirled around him in that vampirey way and my eyes slid off him.

By the time I started running, he was gone. I stumbled to a stop in the pool of light and turned around in circles, peering down the streets that branched off to the sides.

But I knew I wasn’t going to see him, wasn’t going to catch him and stake him.

Not this time, anyway.

Epilogue

Since that night, I’ve wondered if Nick’s last words to me—“it’s okay”—meant that he knew he had been turned, or if he really thought he was dying and was trying to tell me that he was fine with that.

In either case, he was wrong.

It’s not okay.

Nothing is okay. Not really.

I never planned to become a vampire hunter. Then again, I don’t think anyone ever plans on something like that. It’s not usually considered a viable career path.

But with Nick gone, I don’t have much other choice. Alec Pearson says he has a call in to someone to come take Nick’s place—the woman who used to be on Nick’s team, the one he mentioned when we were training. Scarlett. No one will tell me much about her except that things didn’t end well. The guys get all shifty-eyed and evasive when I ask for details and Alec just shook his head and said, “Let’s wait to see if we hear back from her.”

I’m worried, though. Nick trained all of us. He knows everything we know, and more. Some small part of me hopes that just because Nick turned doesn’t mean he’s suddenly on the other side, instantly a bad guy. But the fact that he didn’t stick around to discuss it with us suggests otherwise.

So now I spend my days training with the rest of the team. I took a leave of absence from my graduate program; suddenly, things that happened in England’s history seem much less important to me than the things that are happening right now in New York. Things that I might be able to help change.

Greg turned Nick because of me—to punish me for killing Deirdre. I can’t change that.

And I can’t change the fact that I didn’t kill Greg when I had the chance—any of the times I had the chance.

I will regret that every day for the rest of my life.

So when I’m not training, I’m hunting.

I don’t know where Greg is, but I know that I will find him. And when I do, I will put a stake through his heart.

I know I said that the worst thing about vampires is that they’re already dead. But that’s not strictly true.

The worst thing about vampires is that some of them used to be my friends. One of them used to be my fiancé.

And now I have to hunt him down and kill him.

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Acknowledgments

First and foremost, the thanks for this book goes to Bill Gerke, who suggested all those years ago that I give NaNoWriMo a try and thereby jumpstarted my fiction-writing again. The Vampirarchy wouldn’t exist without you, my dear friend. And without my husband Elson, there would be no time for the Vampirarchy—as ever, thank you for all you do! A special shout-out to Wes Beck, for reminding me when I was a child that even a child’s writing mattered (and for spending hours searching for that lost folder). To my editor Eileen, for seeing the possibilities in Elle and for helping me straighten out her story—you rock! To Deb, Christina C., and Lia for reading the early versions of this draft and providing commentary and support; I love y’all. Special thanks to my parents for their unending support—and for babysitting and carpooling beyond the call of duty. To the rest of my family, for always believing I could do this (and for being my best fans). And always, always, always, to Isabel, who is growing up to love stories as much as I do. You’re my best story ever. I love you.

About the Author

Margo Bond Collins lives in Texas with her husband, their daughter, several spoiled cats, and a ridiculous turtle. She teaches college-level English courses online, though writing fiction is her first love. She enjoys reading urban fantasy and paranormal fiction of any genre and spends most of her free time daydreaming about vampires, ghosts, zombies, werewolves, and other monsters.

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