Nina trailed behind him with heavy feet, reluctant to follow, but unable to stop herself. Her stomach screamed, rumbling and protesting its lack of sustenance, while her brain slammed around in her skull like a Ping-Pong ball again.
Greg’s broad shoulders flexed when he reached out a lean, tapered hand to open the door of his ultra-modern, stainless steel fridge. Packets of blood lined the shelves, and once again Nina winced as her mouth watered. Greg yanked out a package of the gleaming crimson and threw it on the sleek gray granite countertop. “Drink,” he ordered, without turning around.
She made a face at him behind the wide expanse of his back, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. “The hell I will. I’m not drinking any more freaky cocktails with people who can fly. And speaking of flying, get those bat wings a-whirring again, because I’m going home, and since you flew me here, I guess I’m going to rack up some frequent flyer miles when you fly me the frig back.”
Looking over his shoulder with an expression that screamed bored, he said dryly, “Not until you drink. I think I’ve only told you and your friends this ten times now. You absolutely must not miss a feeding. Now drink.” He pointed a finger over his shoulder at the counter.
“And I said no, or did your überhearing miss that? I’m not drinking anything unless it’s caffeinated, carbonated, or dripping in alcohol.” God knew she could use some dulling of her pain, and a bottle of Jack Daniels might do it. Maybe two, just to err on the side of totally blitzed.
In seconds he spun on his heel, looming above her, whipping her around to press her spine to the fridge. The cool steel might have been refreshing since her body was suddenly flaming hot from his touch, but the feeling was muted and dull. Gregori’s gaze was many things, one of which she was sure equaled fed up, but there was something else there she couldn’t quite define. Amused? Yeah, he thought this was pretty funny.
Ha and ha again.
Greg moved in closer, so close their bodies touched, her hips firmly planted against his. A bolt of heat shot up her spine, leaving her uncomfortable and irritated that his hunky body was so fucking hunky to begin with.
His scent surrounded her, enveloped her senses, the faint smell of his cologne swishing under her nose, making her knees shaky. The impact was like a punch to her gut. Whatever he wore, it was clean, crisp, and wreaking some serious olfactory havoc. Goddamn it all to hell and back. How on earth she could find him so appealing after what he’d done to her was unfathomable.
Unthinkable, unconscionable. Un-everything.
But she couldn’t deny what Marty and Wanda had said with those long, breathy sighs in the car on the way home.
He was the shit.
B-e-a-uuu-tiful.
Delish.
A ten on the wet panty scale.
Maybe if she just admitted it like a mental mantra over and over in her head it would go away. Sort of like a Gregori exorcism.
Admitting it was the first step to recovery.
“You find me attractive, don’t you?” His words, low, husky, confident, were just the cold douse of water she needed to regain her perspective. What an arrogant son of a bitch.
Oh, Nina…Was that Wanda in her head, taking the “tone” with her? You do find him attractive. There’s nothing wrong with that, and it isn’t like you haven’t taken care of your, ahem, “womanly needs” when you set your sights on some guy you want to boink, then discard like so much trash because you’re a pansy-ass and afraid of commitment. He’s just validating your thoughts in clear, articulate sentences—which really is something to be commended for, considering most of the men you hook up with are Cro-Magnon knuckle draggers. Embrace your truths.
I’ve only known him for a day! she mentally protested.
Uh, yeah, and the guy you met on karaoke night about six weeks ago was what you’d call a long-term relationship? You knew him for two rounds of Barry Manilow karaoke, dated him twice, and slept with him once, before losing him like so much luggage.
Okay, enough. He was her assailant. He’d accosted her. He was the perp in a heinous mortality stealing sting. The bitch in her railed against the very idea that she found him attractive. Marty didn’t call her a turbo bitch because she gave people warm fuzzies. She called her a turbo bitch because she was one. No one scared people away better than Nina did.
But oh, Jesus Christ on a roller coaster, he smelled good, good, good. Never before had she ever reveled in someone’s scent the way she did his. Her nose was picking up the smallest of nuances and luxuriating in them. It was like rolling around in a bowlful of something silky and decadent, letting it caress your skin as it washed over you in cascades of satiny waves.
Breathless—that’s what she’d be if she were still human.
And there was the crux of the matter. She wasn’t human anymore, and she didn’t want to be a vampire. Manning up now instead of snarfing up his yumminess like a Butterfinger she could no longer eat was in order. Nina straightened her spine, lifting her chin to give Greg an angry gaze, faltering when he arrogantly gazed back, lifting one eyebrow. God, his eyes were green.
And green isn’t in your color wheel—not his shade of green, anyway. So tell your overactive libido to shut it.
When she finally had the ability to answer, it was to reassure him he didn’t turn her on even a little. Not even a little. So there. “I don’t find you anything but bossy.” Her reply was shaky to her ears and far from honest, but worth it just to throw him off track.
Greg continued to stare back at her, his eyes going wide for a moment before they set in stone once more and his jaw tightened. “If you don’t drink, you’ll regret it.”
“Yeah, how so, Wing Man?”
“You’ll wither away and die.”
Yeah, she could see regretting something as big as that. But if she was immortal, how could she die? Why couldn’t these vampire people keep a story straight? “Wither away? Well, how can that be? I thought I was immortal, and the last time I checked, that meant I was going to live forever.”
“If you don’t properly nourish your new immortality, you’ll turn to dust. I think it’s obvious from the package of chicken wings you upchucked that your dining habits will have to change. Much the way a human needs food and water, you, fledgling, need blood. For the most part you’re infallible, but there are things you’ll need to do to maintain that infallibility. So in the interest of me not having the maid vacuum you up, I say you drink.”
Dust. Huh. “So let me be sure I’m clear on what you’ve done to me. If I don’t learn to fly, adjust to the fact that I’m going to live forever, and drink blood, I turn to dust?”
His eyes scanned hers, crinkling at the corners. “None of the former, just the latter. Yes. If you don’t drink the blood, you’ll expire, and you don’t want to do that before you learn to fly do you? You thought it was cool, and don’t deny you did. Now, drink.” His lips curved upward when he finished the words.
Her eyes darted to the package of blood on his counter. Its coppery scent and vivid color screamed for Nina to just give in and drink, already. She gulped, averting her face only to find herself staring at the sinewy length of Greg’s throat. The muscles along it were tight, clenched, hard. The pale skin of it enticed her. Her fangs approved, too, apparently. They began to elongate, almost itch with the desire to sink them right into that tender flesh.
As Nina bowed her head, her hand flew up to cover her mouth.
His chuckled response to her fangs echoed in the stark kitchen. “That’s another problem. If you don’t feed, your fangs will become unmanageable. Unsightly, even.”
Well, this was a fine bunch of options. Drink blood, or have teeth that looked like elephant’s tusks, then wither away and turn to dust. Suh-weet.
Anger for this new discovery ripped into her, and she was just about to say so when she was interrupted. “You’re such a fucktard—”
“Gregori? I trust you’re making our guest welcome?”
Greg’s arms, arms that h
ad bracketed her body while he leaned against the fridge trapping her, dropped. He stepped away from her, as though he’d been burned, all smiles and Gregori charm. “Uh, yeah. Consider yourself welcomed.” He looked at Nina, giving her a wink.
Nina took in the woman who’d scolded Greg. He had a girlfriend, the fuck. How many of these vampires were running around planet Earth? Where did they find each other? A year ago, before Marty and her lycanthropic adventure, she’d have never friggin’ believed this shit was real. But apparently, they ran around the universe hither and yon, going completely unnoticed. And they came in pairs like some kind of paranormal Match.com.
Not to mention, they weren’t exactly weighing in on the ugly side of things either. Jesus, whoever this woman was, she was really good looking, in a totally not-so-common way. Everything about her screamed cool and collected, without winging her refined aura in your face. From her black hair with a splash of gray to her fashionably full, but not overblown lips, she was pretty fierce in Nina’s estimation. Her trousers had a pleat down the legs that was crisp and sharp. Nina couldn’t accomplish that if she used a ruler. The woman’s slim-fitting shirt hugged her waist, flaring out to sit smoothly on her svelte hips. A classic hourglass figure that made Nina’s rather skinny one seem pale by comparison.
Nina’s hands self-consciously went to her faded jeans and worn-thin T-shirt, sliding them over her thighs and settling for wrapping her arms around her waist.
As sophisticated as the woman appeared, her smile was warm when she asked, “I’m Svetlanna, and you are?” She held out a pale hand that sported shortly trimmed nails, buffed and shiny and a big, honkin’ diamond ring glistened brightly from the hand that rested at her side.
Were they married?
And Svetlanna…Nina rolled the name mentally on her tongue. Wow. Hot name. Russian? Figured the winged freak would hook up with a chick named Svetlanna. It was almost predictable. Gregori and Svetlanna…They sounded like a couple from Dancing with the Stars. Nina wiped her hand on her stained jeans and held it out to meet Svetlanna’s. “Um, Nina. Nina Blackman.”
Her eyes sparkled, black as coal and warm as a tropical night. “What brings you to us, Nina?”
“Your husband.”
“My what?”
She did genuine surprise well. Nina’s eyes rolled skyward. “Your husband. He bit me when he came into the dentist’s office I work at. Seems Gregori here had a bad reaction to the anesthesia we gave him and sorta wigged out. I’m a product of his weak constitution.” Nina fought hard to keep the sarcasm out of her tone. It wasn’t Svetlanna’s fault she had a tard for a life partner.
Greg’s irritated guffaw filled the room, but Svetlanna nodded her understanding. “I’m not Gregori’s wife, dear. I’m his mother.”
Oh.
Hookay then. Relief flooded her belly, but that didn’t make any sense. Who gave a shit who this Svetlanna was? Instead Nina opted to dissect this mother thing. She didn’t look a day over thirty, but then neither did the Wing Man. It would only figure somebody as hot as Greg would have a MILF for a mother.
Svetlanna went to the countertop and fingered the packet of blood, directing her gaze at Greg. A gaze filled with fond warmth. “So, Greg, what seems to be the trouble here? I’m not sure I fully understand.”
Greg rolled his tongue over the inside of his cheek. “How about I let ‘Oh Big of Yap’ tell you,” he offered, shooting Nina an antagonistic glare before backing up against the edge of the counter and crossing his arms over his chest, waiting.
Nina scrunched her face up at him. “There isn’t much to explain. Your son bit me, and now he has to fix it. I don’t want to be a vampire today, thank you. I liked being a human. Your son says that can’t happen. Or it’s never happened, at least not that he’s heard of. But you’ve been around longer, I assume, because you’re his mother and all. Maybe you have some suggestions about how we can do that, and then I’ll get out of your hair.” Nina’s smile was brief, just to let Svetlanna know she bore no grudges because her son was a fuckhead and all.
Svetlanna’s face held sympathy, and then a fleeting turn upward of her mouth in reassurance replaced it. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, either. Like Gregori, I’ve never heard of anyone who’s reverted back. I know this must be hard for you, Nina, but it’s a matter of acceptance. I choose to look at it with an optimistic view. I’ll never miss anything newsworthy.” She chuckled at her joke, her laughter as warm as her entire aura.
But Nina wouldn’t be swayed. Yeah, living forever and liking it or turning to dust was definitely an overly optimistic view of shit. Fucking Pollyanna. This was the second person who’d told her there was no getting your mortality back, and it was beginning to smell fishy. If what she’d read was accurate, vampires bit people without misgivings all the time. Had he done this on purpose? So he could…so he could…so he could what?
Well, duh—rule the world.
Alrighty then, it was time to set the record straight, but carefully, so as not to upset the vampires, sending them on a biting rampage. “Um, no, see, here’s the thing. I’m a victim of this, and I don’t want to hear the crap about how it was an accident. If you’re carrying around lethal weapons in your mouth, all parties involved in digging around said mouth should be able to opt out. Yanno? I didn’t have a choice, and I don’t want to drink blood forever. It’s ooking me out, lady. I want to eat sardines from a can and not yark them all over my bathroom. I want to have pizza and Hogan’s Sunday Brunch Special with my friends. So I say we all put our vampire heads together and figure this out.”
“Nina’s freaked about drinking blood. I told her she has no choice.” Greg held up his hands like white flags. “But she’s not hearing me—despite her new hearing abilities.”
She ignored Greg’s input—too tired to do combat with him. What had weighed her down earlier today began again, full throttle. “Not to mention the new job I just started the day Dracula showed up. It was my first day, and now I’ve missed two because of this. That doesn’t look so good. I don’t know how you people make your living, but I gotta work, and I work during the day. I can’t do that if I have to slather myself in SPF and wear twelve layers of clothing. It’s just not conducive to a good working environment. Not to mention, I stole file information from my office to find Batman here. I can’t afford any more trouble, or I’ll get my ass fired. Besides, I’d be a crappy vampire. I like daytime TV way too much. So call up whoever’s in charge of this vampire soiree and hook me up. I’ll take it from there.”
Svetlanna smiled again like she had all the answers to her problems. “But you no longer need a job, Nina. You’ll join the clan here and work with us.”
Clan? Clan? Like Jim Jones? Like the Hari Krishnas? Wait, they were cults. Whatever…Oh, hell, this was a whole lot like Bobbie-Sue. Oh, no, no. There’d be no clan joining. This shit was sounding more and more like the crap Marty’d had to endure with the dogs and their packs. No clans. It was also sounding more and more like the take-over-the-world plot she’d begun to surmise was at the root of this. Maybe Greg biting her was no accident at all. Dread formed in the pit of her belly.
Yeah, because dental hygienists are soooo valuable when taking over the world. They can remind all of their new vampire friends to brush and floss.
Nina fought to keep her wild thoughts in tight check with a crack of her knuckles.
She didn’t want to rile these people. They were vampires, and from what she gathered in Wanda’s reading, some bad-assed dudes. So she’d play nice—or as nice as she knew how to be without looking yellow. Where she came from you just didn’t show the enemy the chicken in you. Even if the enemy was lip-smacking and his mother was like June Cleaver in a whiter shade of pale.
“Yeah…yeah, I’ll do that right after I participate in the human sacrifice. Um, no. Here’s the thing. I don’t want to live with you, and no disrespect, but you’re all crazy to think it’s okay to live for an eternity drinking blood. So thanks, but no thanks. I want
out, and I want someone—anyone to tell me how to do that.” Had that sounded persecutory? Defensive?
Svetlanna cocked her head, scanning Nina’s face.
Nina was sure she’d burst into a fit of anger for Nina giving her such a hard time and being so sarcastic, but it was quite the opposite. She was downright kind and not at all as condescending as her devil spawn. “I wish I could help. You can certainly be assured if I had any information at all to share, I’d do it. However, for now and if you wish to maintain your immortality until this is figured out, you must drink. You’re a new vampire, dear. The immortality you now possess must be nurtured. Unfortunately, as distasteful as the blood drinking is to you, it’s simply a fact and something you’ll have to accept for at least the time being. We really are being honest with you when we say no one has ever turned back. So come,” she held her hand out, “come and drink with me.”
Nina gave another yearning glance to the packet of blood on the counter. The urge to snatch it up and gargle with it before guzzling every last drop like a piña colada was killing her. Svetlanna was wooing her, and she was swaying. Was this some kind of reverse psychology? Win over the new vampire with kind words and blood, so she’d do your evil bidding?
Nina gave them both a stubborn glance. No blood. Her refusal to drink it was denial, plain and simple. If she didn’t acknowledge she wanted the blood, it couldn’t exist.
Svetlanna went to one of the many dark cherry stained cabinets lining the walls and popped a door open, pulling out a wine glass that sparkled under the dim recessed lighting. “Tell me about your job, Nina. Do you enjoy it?”
Well, she couldn’t say for sure. She’d had it for all of a day before some loon came and turned her into a vampire. Nina voiced just that sentiment to Svetlanna. “Like I said, I’ve only had it for a day. You know, that brings to mind a question. How is it that you can go to Hackensack in broad daylight, but I feel like crispy fried bacon even when its overcast?”
Accidentally Dead Page 7
