Bite Somebody

by Sara Dobie Bauer

  That wasn’t helpful at all, because once Ian announced they were moving in together, his parents went psycho and said awkward things like “Are you getting married?” and “Does she want children?” really loudly so that Celia could hear their voices pumped through Ian’s cell phone from across the hotel suite.

  They soon found a cabana on Admiral Key. It wasn’t far from the charred remains of the Sleeping Gull Apartments, and it was about double the size. Also, the landlady didn’t wear a wig. Celia had come to be suspicious of all people who wore wigs.

  Their home was a cozy little place with small windows and efficient air conditioning. It was about thirty feet from the beach, and they were hidden from neighbors by some insane Old World Climbing Fern bushes that basically overtook anything in their path.

  Mr. and Mrs. Hasselback were exactly what Celia expected. Ian’s mother, Char, was an ex-Florida beauty queen and retired flight attendant with bleached blonde hair and beautiful skin. Ian’s dad, Douglas, Sr., looked exactly like Ian, except thirty years older and with brown eyes. Ian had his mom’s eyes.

  Not only were they what she expected, but they were what Ian had warned—overbearing, nosey, and sweet as pecan pie. They didn’t understand why Celia and Ian had to move at night, but Ian explained Celia was a night shift worker, and they couldn’t mess with her routine.

  His parents wanted to know all about Happy Gas, Celia’s dead parents, her future plans (she didn’t have any yet), and how much she loved their son (about a ton). To Celia, it felt like they stayed forever. It was cute how they doted over their youngest. He was obviously the favorite. It did suck having to keep her blood in a cooler in the bedroom closet, though. Plus, Celia had to hide Imogene from the Hasselbacks because they could not meet Imogene. Celia knew her best friend was not for general consumption.

  Imogene took over midget Steve’s clientele. She didn’t operate out of the hospital like he did, though. With a personal loan from Celia, she moved away from Mizzenmast and onto Barkentine Beach, within walking distance of the Drift Inn. She had a nice little place where she dealt, and she was super popular with the local vamps because she was hot and liked to have fun. She was on her cell phone a lot, but other than that, not much had changed. Imogene was back to carrying her cassette player everywhere and hiding behind her red plastic sunglasses. She licked Ian’s cheek every chance she got.

  Celia stopped seeing Dr. Savage professionally, although she did see her sometimes, socially. Dean and Ian hung out often since Dr. Savage was busy with her new protégé, Vixen. Celia had only seen the former exotic dancer once since Danny went down, but she looked nice. She didn’t dress like a whore anymore, and she wasn’t murdering people, so that was good. Despite Celia’s suspicions, she still insisted “Vixen” was her real name.

  Celia was back working at Happy Gas, and Omar kept threatening to make her a manager. Ralph treated her with the utmost respect now that she was living with Ian. Sometimes, Ian even let Ralph come over, and they would talk about surfing and get high.

  Ian bought a surfboard. He hadn’t used it yet, but it sat against the wall of their place, and he pet it like a dog. He did continue going out with Celia when she swam in the ocean. She found her swim time much improved with Ian there, which was funny, since her night swims used to be solitary, just Celia and the slimy sea. With Ian there, it felt like something they shared together. Celia wanted to share everything with Ian.

  When she started trying to rebuild her movie collection, she realized it was super hard to find anything on VHS anymore, so she got with the times and actually bought a DVD player.

  Ian bought her first DVD: Labyrinth. Celia did have one surprising realization—she didn’t want to buy Pretty Woman. She felt like she didn’t need it anymore. Instead, Ian bought the special anniversary DVD, because he said it was now one of his favorite movies. Go figure.

  They met Imogene for a round of drinks at the Drift Inn. It was pretty packed, considering it was a Thursday night during tourist season. Celia still didn’t know how tourists even found the place. It looked like a shoebox by the side of the road.

  Celia only had two drinks. (She didn’t count shots.) Despite this, she got sick when she and Ian got home. He held her hair back as she hurled, which was very gentlemanly. Then, they fell asleep wrapped around each other.

  She didn’t know what time it was when Ian’s heartbeat woke her, but it sounded like a steel drum in her brain. She put her hands on either side of her head and curled into a little ball, groaning. She didn’t want to wake Ian, so she went to the bathroom, just in case she was going to spew again—but she didn’t feel sick. Celia just felt weird.

  She swore she could still hear Ian’s heartbeat from the bedroom, but then she realized, over the sound of their ever-running air conditioner, that just wasn’t possible. She leaned her hands on the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look like she was going nuts, so what the hell was that noise?

  Then she noticed the noise was coming from inside of her. Considering vampires were dead and didn’t have heartbeats, this realization was somewhat off-putting. She wondered what the hell was in those drinks at the Drift Inn? She had a momentary Spaceballs moment where she thought maybe some little creature was about to pop out of her stomach, covered in blood, and tap dance in the bathtub.

  Little creature.

  Holy shit, little creature!

  Celia covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a scream.

  Ian always said he wanted kids.

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  Wait, there’s more!

  The sequel, Bite Somebody Else will be available June 20, 2017! You can read the opening pages of Bite Somebody Else in the back of this book.

  Acknowledgments

  What began as a short story turned into Bite Somebody, thanks to Shimmer Magazine editor and author, E. Catherine Tobler, who thought Celia’s voice was too good for a mere 5000 words.

  Fellow romance author and Twitter friend, Megan Gaudino, referred me to World Weaver Press, for which I owe her several martinis. My editor at WWP, Trysh Thompson, has consistently geeked out over how much she loves my characters, and without her, this book wouldn’t have happened.

  HELLO! to the entire city of Longboat Key, Florida (Drift Inn, too), because, if you hadn’t noticed, my silly vampires took over your town.

  Thanks to writer Tiffany Michelle Brown, my creative Gemini twin who operates as a sexy red balloon that consistently manages to lift me from rejection funks.

  Thanks to my Sami who read Bite Somebody in one afternoon, texting off and on about how she was laughing…crying…laughing because of how much she related to Celia. Sam was the first person who made me realize Bite Somebody was more than just rom-com and that the book might actually affect people’s lives.

  My parents accidentally raised two artists. (The horror!) Yet, they have persevered and supported me with their love and loud cheerleading—along with Aunt Susie, my SOMOH (Sexy Old Maid of Honor), more friend than relative.

  I’d be nowhere without my gorgeous husband, Jake, who supports his wife’s crazy career and supports his wife’s, oh, general craziness. I love you, babe, always. Thanks for loving me back, no matter what.

  God gets a shout out, too. (Sometimes, buddy, I don’t know what You’re thinking, but You never let me down.)

  Finally, to everyone who’s ever had a fat day, a sad day, or a maybe-I-don’t-want-to-live-anymore day: Remember to find the funny, because even when blood hunters are after your boyfriend, there’s still Bob Marley. There’s still the ocean. There is still love.

  About the Author

  Sara Dobie
Bauer is a writer, model, and mental health advocate with a creative writing degree from Ohio University. She spends most days at home in her pajamas as a book nerd and sex-pert for SheKnows.com. Her short story, “Don’t Ball the Boss,” was nominated for the 2015 Pushcart Prize, inspired by her shameless crush on Benedict Cumberbatch. She lives with her hottie husband and two precious pups in Northeast Ohio, although she would really like to live in a Tim Burton film. She is also the author of Wolf Among Sheep, Life without Harry, and Forever Dead. Read more at SaraDobieBauer.com or find her on Twitter @SaraDobie.

  Excerpt from Bite Somebody Else by Sara Dobie Bauer

  Imogene helped her newbie vampire friend Celia hook up with an adorable human, but now Celia has dropped an atomic bomb of surprise: she has a possibly blood-sucking baby on the way. Imogene is not pleased, especially when a mysterious, ancient, and annoyingly gorgeous vampire historian shows up to monitor Celia’s unprecedented pregnancy.

  Lord Nicholas Christopher Cuthbert III is everything Imogene hates: posh, mannerly, and totally uninterested in her. Plus, she thinks he’s hiding something. So what if he smells like a fresh garden and looks like a rich boarding school kid just begging to be debauched? Imogene has self-control. Or something.

  As Celia’s pregnancy progresses at a freakishly fast pace, Imogene and Nicholas play an ever-escalating game of will they or won’t they, until his sexy maker shows up on Admiral Key, forcing Nicholas to reveal his true intentions toward Celia’s soon-to-arrive infant.

  Bite Somebody Else: Chapter 1

  Bite Somebody Else Excerpt © 2017 Sara Dobie Bauer

  Imogene hid behind her sunglasses and a rum punch as Celia extoled the virtues of not biting one of Ian’s brothers at their wedding. “I really don’t want any open wounds at my nuptials,” she said over the clatter of beer bottles and disorderly conduct at their favorite Florida dive bar, The Drift Inn.

  “What if I have to punch someone in the nose?” Imogene asked.

  “You won’t.”

  “Except maybe my brother Randall. Nobody likes Randall, but I don’t even know if he’s coming,” Ian said from his bar stool. He sat there, in shorts and a t-shirt, reading Modern Bride. He flipped a page and said, “Ooo, pretty!”

  “Pretty.” Imogene licked her lips.

  “Imogene.” Celia elbowed Imogene in the side.

  “Okay.” She held up her palms and shook them like jazz hands. “I won’t bite any of Ian’s brothers.”

  “Or anyone else.”

  Imogene rolled her eyes, which Celia couldn’t see behind the red, plastic sunglasses. “Or anyone else,” she mumbled. She eyed a tall, dark, masculine shadow that watched her from the corner of the dingy bar. She made a show of pouting her lips just for fun.

  “You can have sex with my brother Tommy.” Ian turned a page in his magazine and gestured for another beer from the bartender known as “Angry Santa”—a grumpy old guy with a white beard who always wore a sombrero.

  Imogene crossed her arms on the bar but pulled back when her elbows stuck to days-old spilled liquor. “Yeah, what’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing. He’s kind of a pothead, but he looks a lot like me.”

  “Mm, yes, that could work,” Imogene said. She sat up straighter and leaned her boobs on the bar edge in the direction of the man who still stared at her from across the smoky room. In the dim lighting, she couldn’t tell if he was attractive, but he did have on a really nice three-piece suit, which seemed comically out of place in the trash heap bar—but it was Imogene’s favorite trash heap bar.

  Celia turned to face her very soon-to-be husband. “You’re okay with Imogene sleeping with one of your brothers?”

  Imogene looked away from the stranger and slipped her sunglasses up. “Hey, what’s the matter with me?”

  Celia forced a quick smile. “Nothing.”

  “I assume Imogene’s an animal in bed,” Ian said. “I would never stand between one of my brothers and a fantastic lay.”

  “Thank you, Ian.” Imogene winked.

  “You’re the only animal I’ll ever need.” Celia grabbed Ian’s face and planted a big, wet one on her dream guy. The image was almost sexy, if not for the heavily protruding pregnant belly she could barely fit beneath the bar.

  He whispered his old nickname for her: “Mermaid.”

  Imogene mock gagged and turned her focus back to Mr. Mystery in the corner, who still watched. He had hair the color of dark amber.

  It was August, three months after Imogene received the screaming phone call that sounded mostly like a mouse being strangled but, turned out, was just Celia begging her to come over and explain why the hell she had a baby growing in her stomach.

  As if Imogene knew. It wasn’t like she had a lot of experience with babies, and she’d never heard of a vampire getting knocked up. She knew Celia was “special,” not in the rides the short bus to school way, but just different. She could throw up, for one thing, and Imogene herself hadn’t done that since a month after she’d been turned. Maybe they should have seen more weirdness on the horizon, but after the whole Danny threatening to kidnap Ian and turn him into a blood slave thing, followed by their black widow landlady, Heidi, burning down the Sleeping Gull Apartments, they were all a bit distracted.

  Dr. Rayna Savage was their only source for answers to Celia’s mysterious pregnancy, but even she was at a loss. She said she’d called in a “specialist” from England, whatever the hell that meant, and not a moment too soon. Celia’s stomach was way bigger than it should have been at three months, and it wasn’t like they could take her to get a sonogram. The baby had a heartbeat, of that they were sure, but Celia didn’t. How would they explain that?

  Ian went back to reading Modern Bride, catching some strange looks from the biker dudes down the bar. “You can only sleep with Tommy, though.”

  Imogene kicked a combat boot against her bar stool. “You mean at the whole wedding?”

  “No, out of my brothers. Doug Jr. is happily married, and like I said, Randall’s sort of an ass. He doesn’t deserve you.”

  “Awww,” Imogene sighed. Only surfer boy Ian Hasselback could make her coo. “All right, it’s a deal. I can fuck Tommy but no blood-sucking.”

  “And you have to wear a dress,” Celia said.

  “I have tons of dresses.”

  “No, a bridesmaid dress.”

  “Oh. What?”

  Celia ran her hands through Ian’s hair. “You’re my Maid of Honor. You’re wearing the dress I choose.”

  Imogene groaned. “Bitch, if you make it pastel, I’ll stake you.”

  “One: stakes don’t kill vampires. Two: rude. It’s my wedding.”

  “Shit, Merk.”

  Celia raised an eyebrow. Her last name was “Merkin,” slang for a pubic wig, and Imogene had used the shortened version since their first meeting outside a gas station months before.

  Imogene sighed. “You’re not gonna get all Bridezilla on me, are you?”

  “That all depends on Ian’s mother.” She adjusted herself sideways so her big tummy stared directly at Imogene.

  “Char giving you a hard time?”

  Celia harrumphed.

  Imogene had been allowed one meeting with Ian’s parents, probably because her friends were terrified of what she might say. They’d been pleasant enough folk—a retired beauty queen slash flight attendant and an absent-minded accountant named Doug Sr. They smelled a lot like their son, which was probably why Imogene was so patient when they kept asking about her job. She lied and said, “Backup dancer.” It wasn’t much of a stretch; she’d always wanted to be the girl in rap videos. She couldn’t very well say, “Blood dealer.”

  Since decapitating midget Steve with a pair of dinosaur-sized garden shears in May, Imogene had taken his place as the most popular blood dealer in Lazaret. It hadn’t been a slam-dunk at first. It wasn’t like Imogene worked in a hospital, but she did once bang a guy who worked in a hospital. She glamoured him on a weekly basis to
get her supply. She did the same to a mousy female Red Cross employee just so no one got suspicious about all the missing blood bags at the hospital. And business was booming. With the help of a loan from Celia’s inheritance (already paid off, thank you), Imogene even moved out of her shithole shack on Mizzenmast and into a two-story beach house on Barkentine Beach, within walking distance of The Drift Inn.

  Imogene sometimes wondered why, with all Celia’s money, she and Ian lived in such a shithole, which they insisted on calling “cozy.” Their place was right on the beach of Admiral Key. The whole thing was very tiki modern, made of wood and filled with crooked, swooping ceilings. It was a miracle Ian had yet to bash his head on a doorframe, tall drink of water he was. The inside was boring as Celia’s old apartment with a couple pieces of furniture, TV, DVD player, and a fridge big enough to hold enough blood for Celia and Imogene whenever she came over, plus Ian’s kale for smoothies and all his weird health food. The only decorative item Imogene approved of was the poster of Freddie Mercury by the front door, which had replaced David Bowie after Celia’s previous apartment burned down.

  “Oh, and no sunglasses for photos,” Celia snapped. “No combat boots either. Heels.”

  “You’re wearing heels? There are going to be photos?”

  “It’s my wedding,” Celia whined. “Of course I want photos. Of you and me. It’ll be perfect.”

  Imogene licked one of her fangs. She was pretty hungry—and horny, honestly, which was why she made eyes once again at the over-dressed oddity in The Drift Inn corner. She thought maybe she could glamour him toward the bar to get a better look, but then a bit of neon light illuminated the tilt of his chin… which was when Imogene finally noticed: he wasn’t staring at her.