a cluster of freckles on my butt that I am positive looks like a jack-
o-lantern.”
“Oh, this I gotta see,” she said. I met her laughter with a shriek,
giggling uncontrollably as she flipped me over.
There was nothing that could have been done to fix our screwed
up, tattered pasts, and I had no clue what our future would be like,
but I had her with me now. I held on to that thought and let the
feeling of it warm my heart as she used her body to warm mine all
over again.
❖
I dreamed about cats. Cats crying. I could hear the meowing
coming from the dark corner of an unfamiliar room. Every time I
thought I found the source of the sound, the corner would be empty.
It sounded like kittens, crying out for their mother. I couldn’t stop
looking, but I did once I felt something brush across my face.
Something rough and sandpapery.
I shot up in bed, gasping in the bright sunlight.
The early morning sunlight.
It was morning.
“Shit!” A small heart attack ripped through my chest when a sleek
black cat jumped into my lap. “What the—” My hand automatically
went to its soft fur, my body realizing before my brain that the animal
in the sheets with me was indeed Camila and not some stray who
had magically learned how to work an elevator. It was the brightest
morning Baltimore had probably seen in years, and we were sitting
atop the city’s tallest hotel, in a penthouse with wall-sized windows.
With open curtains. Of course Camila would take a safer form.
• 189 •
reBekah WeatherspOOn
I looked around the room, checking stupidly to make sure the
cat and I were alone. Then I stared back at Camila.
“Oh, this is really happening.” I sighed deeply. Her hazel eyes
were exactly the same, gazing back at me. She meowed again before
jumping off the bed and running toward the bathroom. I followed,
thankful I didn’t get tangled in the covers.
I closed us inside and double-checked to see if any light was
coming in from under the door. I flicked the light switch, praying the
room was truly UV free.
“Jesus.” I jumped. Camila, the hu—vampire version of her,
was standing behind me in the mirror. I spun around facing her.
“I’m sorry,” she said frantically.
“What the hell happened?”
“I overslept.”
“Second most powerful demon in all of North America and you
overslept. Please tell me how.”
“I haven’t slept in four months.”
“Why not?” I gasped. “We slept together last weekend, and I
mean before that—”
“We spend the summer setting the older girls up with their new
feeders and just all the shit with the shop—” She cut herself off,
hanging her head, frustrated.
An unusual calm came over me. I could freak out later. I had to
get her back to the house.
“It’s fine. What do we do now?”
She rubbed her palm over her eyes before looking back at me.
“There’s a shopping bag in the closet in the bedroom. Throw all our
stuff in there. When we get downstairs, tell the valet you’re picking
up Ms. Sanchez’s Range Rover. He doesn’t know me, but he knows
my name and he knows which car is mine. He’ll bring it up. You
remember the address to the house?”
“Yeah.” Right, because I’d been too busy trying to make out
with her and feeling up her vinyl pants to pay attention to the way
we’d come. I had no fucking idea where the hotel was in relationship
to the house. This was just getting better.
• 190 •
Better Off red
“The GPS is unnecessarily fancy, but it’ll get you back to the
house.”
“Good. And you’re okay?” It was my turn to ask.
“Yes, I’m fine. I shifted in my sleep. Red, I’m—”
“I know. It’s cool. Let’s just get out of here.” Camila let her
apology drop, and then a fraction of a second later was down on all
furry black fours looking up at me.
“This is really fucking happening,” I muttered before opening
the door for the black cat at my ankles. I wasted no time digging up
the shopping bag. I threw in Camila’s clothes and shoes, all the toys
she bought me. No way was I leaving them behind. Even though I
was freaking out, I’d want them later. I chucked my jewelry and my
shredded underwear in the bag and cursed out loud when I realized
the only shoes I had to walk and drive in were four-inch platform
pumps. I wanted to kill Amy.
I felt like a complete whore as I slithered back into my bra and
my dress. After a final sweep of the penthouse and reclaiming my
jacket and my clutch, I turned to the cat.
“So do I just carry you…”
She meowed, pawing the air under the shopping bag.
“Of course.” I put the bag on the floor. Camila hopped in,
meowing at me again when she was settled on top of the toys and
her vinyl pants.
I clicked my heel on the marble floor as I waited for the elevator.
I nearly bit through my lip; my teeth wouldn’t stop gnawing at it. I
could not believe this was happening.
The ride down was a fucking nightmare. Three old ladies got
on on the eighteenth floor. The situation would have only been
worse if it had been Nanny and Pop-Pop Carmichael in the elevator
with me instead, may they rest in peace. One of the old ladies was
just rude enough to peer into the huge bag slung over my shoulder.
I didn’t realize she was even looking in my direction until she
screeched, “Oh, what a gorgeous cat.” The other two women had
been purposely ignoring me. My dress, my red do-me pumps, and
my messy ponytail did not make for presentable Sunday brunch
attire.
• 191 •
reBekah WeatherspOOn
I wanted to die. The woman actually reaching into the bag and
stroking Camila’s head made it the best walk of shame ever. They
hopped off at the dining room on the second floor, and that gave me
about fifteen seconds to prepare myself for my power walk past the
front desk.
The valet, Frank, had apparently seen worse morning-afters
and spared me his disapproving stares. Once I was behind the wheel,
Camila hopped out of the bag and into my lap. My thigh twitched
under her weight, a mix of annoyance and arousal. It twitched again
when I looked at the clock on the dash. It was seven fifty-five a.m.
There were only three menus to get through before I could enter
the address to the house. I gripped the steering wheel the whole
seven point three miles back to campus, doing my best to ignore my
mewling girlfriend in my lap.
I knew I had to do something to keep my mind off the anger
boiling in my stomach. Reciting the code to the garage over in
my head was the only thing that seemed to work. At mile three, I
realized repeating the numbers was only putting me more and more
on edge. If Camila could sense my pleasure and my pain, there was
way no way sh
e couldn’t sense my emotions now. By the time we
pulled into the safety of the underground garage, my knuckles were
white and I was nearly shaking.
I opened the door and Camila hopped off my lap. She trotted
slowly down the hall and I followed, wondering why she hadn’t
changed back. Then I remembered I had her clothes in the bag at my
side. She wasn’t shy on nudity, but this wasn’t the time. I felt bad
for a moment, thinking of how crappy waking up four-legged and
furry would actually be.
The tension in me started to ease, until we turned the corner to
the sister-queens’ quarters. Tokyo, dressed in nothing but a kimono
robe, had Mel, naked, up against the wall. I could only assume the
hallway was the perfect place to feed this time of the morning. The
two of them had probably never been to bed. At least they had the
good sense to remain underground.
My annoyed grunt brought Tokyo up short.
• 192 •
Better Off red
“What’s wrong?” she asked a moment before she looked at
Camila. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, Ginger. It sucks when that happens.”
“I bet it does,” I grumbled as I stormed by, feeling Tokyo’s
receding laughter like a punch in the back.
We hung a right to Camila’s door. She sprinted in front of me,
blinking into her two-legged, two-armed, very naked form. My stare
lingered on her ass just for a second. I forced myself to look at her
feet once she opened the door. I stepped inside and waited.
“Red—”
“May I use your shower?”
“You know you can. You don’t have to ask. You’re welcome to
my space and my things. Just let me—”
“Thank you.” I dropped my stuff on the couch, and without
another word, marched into the bathroom.
The shower was perfectly hot, but I didn’t wash. I just stood there
under the raining spray. My body was still for a long time as I let the
hot water trickle in and out of my mouth. There was no shampooing
my hair. I couldn’t be bothered to lather up my body. All I could do
was stare at the black tile because every time I closed my eyes all I
could see was Camila’s ashes piled next to me in the white sheets.
For months after my mother died, I’d pictured what it must
have been like to drag the razor across my own wrists. I wondered
if it would hurt or, if you were someone like my mother, would you
enjoy that sort of pain. Would you only be sad because you realized
ending your life meant you would never be able to feel that sort of
agony again. I thought of my mother, thought of my dreams, new
and old, of her dead and bleeding, pregnant and bleeding. And I
thought of Camila.
“Baby.” I didn’t jump this time when she appeared behind me.
I didn’t even flinch when her arms came around my waist. My gaze
traced a line across the black floor as she gently turned me toward
her. Still too afraid to close my eyes, I looked as high as her navel.
She couldn’t ask me for more than that.
“Don’t be angry with me,” she pleaded softly. “Querida,
please.” For the first time, her heritage thickly coated her voice with
emotion. It made me shiver.
• 193 •
reBekah WeatherspOOn
“I’m not angry with you,” I croaked.
“Then please tell me—”
“No. I can’t.”
“Why? You can tell me anything.”
At that moment, something in me broke. A string that ran from
my brain to my heart, that had been tangled up in my courage and
my soul, just gave way, making room for nothing but vulnerability
and fear. And somehow that crack in my will gave me the power to
invite Camila into my head.
Her eyes snapped wide the moment she was inside and even
wider, shocked with the pain I was feeling and the horrible things
I’d been imagining. She saw my dead mother lying against the white
tile, saw how I pictured her own death, the way she had burned and
bled. “Red.” She choked out a sob, the sympathy spreading across
her face. For some reason, her reaction pissed me off. I took a step
back out of her arms.
“Don’t do that,” I shouted. “You can’t do that, okay? I know
I’m just some stupid kid with mommy issues, but what I feel for
you is real. And it doesn’t deserve your pity. I know you’ve been
through a lot of girls, but you mean more than that to me. Thank you
for taking me out and claiming me as your mate, but we both know
you don’t love me.”
“I love you. Let’s get that straight right now,” Camila said
back. The feral tone of her voice and the anger that snapped into
place on her face shut me up. “Damn it, this is going to sound bad,
but you’re the reason I slept so hard this morning. For the first time
in over sixty years, I got a real night’s sleep. Losing my children and
Lino—it ripped my fucking heart out, Ginger. Don’t think for one
second that you didn’t give it back to me because you did.
“I love you so much and I’ve only known you a week. I almost
killed Moreland in a crowded restaurant just for looking at you,
and that has nothing to do with sex or possessing you. I can’t stand
the thought of anyone else making you laugh. It makes me sick to
my stomach. The thought of someone else counting your freckles
makes me want to punch a hole in the wall. I love you, no matter
• 194 •
Better Off red
how old you are, whether you’re immortal or not. I’m sorry about
what happened this morning. I swear to you it will never happen
again.”
“You swear? Because I can’t protect you. You have to protect
yourself. I don’t care how tired or stressed out you are. I don’t want
to lose you.” My eyes started to mist up. The admission of her love
right on the heels of the very real idea of being without her, pushed
the tears over the edge. It all happened so fast, but I truly did love
her. “Yes. Jesus Christ, Red.” Her arms came around me again. I
let her pull me against her body. The water slicked our skin making
our nipples bud against each other. “I keep fucking this up. It’s been
years since anyone cared what I did with my time, if I took care of
myself. I’m going to stop hurting you.”
I leaned back, staying close enough for her to keep a hold on
me. My fingers traced across her collarbone. Touching her made the
goose bumps rise on my own skin.
“You haven’t hurt me. We just, we keep missing each other.
I’m assuming one thing and you’re assuming another. I know you
know how to take care of yourself. You wouldn’t let yourself go
out in the sun carelessly. I was just scared. I don’t want anything to
happen to you. This is new for me, but it’s worse because you’re not
just some girl in my class I have a crush on. I don’t know. Does that
even make sense?”
“Yes. It does.” She gently lifted the ruby pendant off my chest.
“I have given this necklace to so many girls. Cleo is one of the
few I would consider a true friend, but there have been others like
her. There’s never been anyone like you, Ginger. Four years, grad
school, fuck, even if you stay here for your PhD. I don’t want to let
you go.”
“You curse a lot when you get worked up.”
“I know. I’ll work on that too.”
“How often do you need to sleep? Honestly.”
“I can get by on six hours a week, but twelve is better. The
closer you are to a bourne-demon the less you need, but my human
side does need some.”
• 195 •
reBekah WeatherspOOn
“I know you had a crazy week, but what in the hell were you
doing the times I slept in your bed?”
She shrugged. “I got some work done. Thought about what the
hell I was going to do with you.”
“Okay, well, will you please get some sleep for me, squeeze
some nine or so hours in, here and there? And please let me
know when you’re going to feed again. I know it wasn’t anything
emotional with Amy, but it’s unreasonable to ask a girl not to get a
little excited when you’re sucking on her neck. I’d rather not walk
in on that again”
Her laugh forced me to smile. There was no helping it. “I
promise. Will you let me in again?” she asked cautiously. I took
a deep breath and nodded. This time I didn’t try to do anything,
but I did feel her inside my head, a light pressure just behind my
forehead. I twitched and winced a little. The pressure didn’t hurt, but
something about another person occupying your brain while you’re
fully conscious of it just didn’t feel right.
“It’s okay, baby. Just relax.”
I exhaled deeply and did my best to hold still. The feeling of the
intrusion didn’t ease, but suddenly the painful images were gone,
not for good, she silently told me, but for the moment. She slipped
out just as quickly as she had slipped in. My mind was my own
again even though her influence lingered. When I closed my eyes
there were no memories of death, hers or my mother’s. Just calm,
weightless darkness.
My eyes stayed closed when she kissed me, and I didn’t open
them again while she washed my hair and rubbed down my body.
Afterward, she dried me off and carried me to bed. I kept my eyes
closed the whole time, relieved that the next time I opened them,
some four hours later, Camila was still wrapped around me under
Better Off Red Page 23
