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—From The Guide for the Newly Undead
Gabriel offered to wipe my family’s memories. It was so tempting to hide for a little bit longer, to let one area of my life stay the same for just a little while. But I’d had enough. The lies took too much energy, and, frankly, I was having a hard time keeping track of to whom I’d told what.>“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
I threw my arms up. “I don’t even know what it is.”
He sighed, a short snort of impatience. “I like you. You’re unpredictable, and you always say what you think, even if it would be better if you didn’t. You get yourself into situations that Moliere couldn’t think of.”
“OK, OK, so you like me.”
“Yes, I think we should see each other on an exclusive basis, ” he said. I stared at him. “I am your sire, and we’ve made love.”
“I’m familiar with your résumé,” I said, shushing him with another furtive look at Zeb. “This is not a good time for this.”
“I doubt we’ll ever find a good time,” he muttered, thrusting his arm against my mouth. “Now, drink, before Missy figures out what we’re doing.” With nothing else I to say, I chomped on his wrist. Gabriel yelped, prompting a smile against his skin. Unusual for me, I knew, but I could hear Missy and Dick’s argument winding down. Gabriel winced as I drew huge mouthfuls of his blood.
Zeb watched, coming closer and closer. “Is it going to be a Popeye thing? She eats her spinach and has the strength of twenty squinty sailors?”
“How have you survived this long without someone hurting you?” Gabriel asked as I finished feeding. I wiped a drip from my chin and offered Zeb a red-tinged grin. He recoiled, clearly grossed out.
Gabriel pulled a handkerchief from nowhere and dabbed at my mouth.
“I love it when he does that,” Zeb said, looking Gabe over for hidden pockets. “Why can’t I be a cool sleight-of-hand guy?”
“You’ve got a huge man crush on him, don’t you?” I said, shaking my head.
Zeb measured “this much” sexual confusion with his fingers.
The sudden drop in volume signaled that Missy had finally noticed us.
“Gabriel, I do believe what you just did could be considered cheating,” Missy said, her voice teasing and pouting.
“Do not attempt to explain the ancient codes to me,” he growled.
Missy ignored the chill in Gabriel’s tone. “Then I can count on you to mind your own business and let us girls sort this out.”
“You can count on me to keep this farce as close to the codes as possible. And if by some misfortune you happen to kill my bloodmate, I will make you wish for dawn.”
Bloodmate? What was that, exactly? It sounded like something I didn’t necessarily want to be. But the term seemed to have an effect on Missy. The supreme Tony Robbins-bred confidence melted away for a second before she flashed a guileless grin. “I’ll just let you two say your good-byes.”
“She’s really good at that intimidating smack-talk stuff,” I said, watching her flounce away. “Any advice?”
“Keep your hands up,” Gabriel said. “Protect your neck and chest at all times. And don’t try any of those fancy women’s self-defense tactics. She probably took the same classes when she was alive, and she’ll be expecting them.”
Before I could retort, Gabriel crushed me close and gave me a bloodless, friendly smack on the lips. He smiled. “For luck.”
“Idiot,” I said, before grinning broadly and crushing his mouth to mine.
“We need to pick new pet names for each other,” he muttered as I hefted myself up from the ground.
Honestly, how did someone who never once got into a fight in school end up getting into so many of them as an adult? Missy was standing in the middle of the yard, in a worn circle of dirt. I felt like that first anonymous fighter who gets killed off in the Jean -
Claude Van Damme cage-fighter movies. Missy smiled, and I circled.
“I guess we’re going to get to have that little catfight after all,” Missy said, rolling her shoulders.
“I’m not worried. If you kill me, my dead great-aunt will fix it so you spend eternity looking for your car keys,” I said.
I felt the power of Gabriel’s blood coursing through me, warming me, giving me that drunk driver’s confidence that maybe I could make it home. The burns on my arms had finally healed over. And the wound in my shoulder was a shiny, slightly sore memory.
