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Wistfulness filled Emily’s expression as Sydney’s teeth changed. Filing the stupid things down hadn’t helped. They’d grown back within hours. If she’d been a true vamp, they would have regenerated even more quickly. At least they stayed a semi-reasonable size most of the time unless she became aroused. Or hungry. Since those were pretty much constants in her life, she tried not to smile or speak more than necessary, unless she was with friends who understood. Namely Emily.
Okay, only Emily.
“When are we going to talk about it?” Sydney asked.
“About what?”
Sydney rolled her eyes. “You know about what. About you wanting to become a vampire.”
Emily didn’t attempt to evade the question. Nor did she duck her gaze from Sydney’s direct stare. “That obvious, hmm?”
“Yes.” Deliberately ignoring the cheerful ding from behind her, Syd lifted a brow. “So? What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going to become one.” With a dainty shrug, Emily set aside her magazine. The eyebrow stud Syd had talked her into last week gleamed above her left eye, only highlighting the silvery gray of her irises.
“How?”
“How do you think? I’m going to ask one to bite me.”
“Ask one? Do you know that many?”
“No, but I know Kellan. And you.”
Belatedly Sydney remembered that Lucas hadn’t informed Emily he was a vampire. She wasn’t sure how he’d managed the hiding the fangs bit until she’d read some more skilled vampires were able to control their body’s external reactions. Basically, if he didn’t want his fangs to show, they wouldn’t.
Another thing she hadn’t mentioned to Emily? Her, uh, multiple naked excursions with the two men. Emily swore up and down she didn’t see Lucas that way, but considering the hard-on she had for vamps, maybe her belief that he wasn’t one explained her supposed non-attraction.
Then again, if Emily wanted to be turned, she definitely would need the four-one-one on how the whole sex, blood, and rock-n-roll thing worked.
“You understand the cravings for blood. But do you realize the thrall of sex after the change?”
“I’ve studied the literature.”
“Literature?” Sydney scoffed. “Honey, you’re in for a rude deadening. I always enjoyed sex. Craved it. A lot. I thought I just happened to be friskier than your average bunny, but now I know it’s probably because of my genetic code.”
“The latency, you mean.”
“Yes. But after I drank from Kellan, things got even worse. Or better, depending on your perspective. I’m hornier than the worst human male you’ve ever come across.”
Something flashed in Emily’s gray eyes. Storm clouds sliding over the moon. “You’d be surprised what I’ve come across. And what I can handle.”
“Emily—”
“Eat. Your meat’s getting cold.”
There was no one else she could have felt so comfortable with as she tore into her nearly raw steaks. No one else that would have just passed over a couple wet wipes after she’d made quick work of them.
“Em, I’ve never….”
The words clogged in her throat. She’d never been good with them, yet another reason she’d preferred sweaty, physical action over flowery expressions of love. After watching the men who’d paraded in and out of her mother’s life, she didn’t believe in happily-ever-afters. And because she’d always been pragmatic, happy-right-now held more appeal than cuddling her morals in her empty bed at night.
“What?”
Sydney wiped her mouth and tossed aside the napkins. The steaks hadn’t even blunted the leading edge of her hunger, but what could she do?
You could go back to Kellan.
She trudged to the sink and wrenched on the water to scrub her plate. Anything that would distract her from thinking that one destructive, dangerous thought.
