“If you continue sighing like that,” Stark said in a smooth, deep voice, “I will be forced to make love to you again.”
A shamelessly goofy smile popped onto my swollen lips. “Welp, Stark, no one ever said I’d be easy to please.”
He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at me. “Youarea demanding little vampire. This pleases me.”
Vampire.The word bounced around in my head like a pinball going nowhere. Was I really one of them now?
I still felt just as human as I had on my last day alive, when Stark’s brother, Lazlo, and Lazlo’s evil sidekick Fiona took my life in the parking lot behind the Flaming Rooster—my family’s bar, which I now owned. Next door to that was the distillery where we made award-winning Tennessee whiskey. It was a great life that I’d worked hard for, and that night, I’d thought I was done for.
Until I woke up.
Two days ago.
As a vampire.
“You look uneasy. What is the matter?” Stark asked.
“I know you said it’ll take some gettin’ used to, but shouldn’t I have super-hearing or super-smell or something vampiry?” My stomach grumbled.
“You have super-hunger. Shall I bring you the drink?”
The drink.Earlier, he’d offered me a concoction he called “moonshine” in a brown glass bottle, and I’d turned it down. He claimed it was an ancient herbal elixir with a small amount of human blood to ease my discomfort during the transformation.
“No, thanks,” I said once again. The thought of drinking vein-juice just didn’t sit well, though, according to Stark, I’d already had some. He said he’d fed it to me while I’d been unconscious to complete my transformation to vampire.
I didn’t remember any of it. Fine by me, because this whole vampire thing had been foisted on my life.
The truth was, I loved being human. I loved a slow sunrise and lazy afternoons. I loved soft worn sweatpants on a chilly winter day. I loved going to the farmer’s market on Saturday morning to buy fresh-baked bread, homemade jam, or a bouquet of sunflowers. I loved long walks down by the creek where my older sister, Maybell, and I used to sunbathe when we wereteenagers. There were thousands of things I would miss about being human, but I’d miss the simple, everyday moments most.
Damn that Lazlo! Why’d he have to go and kill me like that?All because I’d rejected him. Okay, and lit him on fire and left him for dead. But he’d had it comin’. I swear he did!Long story.
Stark rose from bed, flashing his round hard ass as he strolled across the bedroom to a minifridge concealed within his built-in bookshelves.
He must’ve had over a thousand old books in this room, along with an assortment of dramatic paintings depicting angels and demons duking it out. They looked expensive, but that was Stark. He loved collecting old things with his piles of cash. Not that I’d ever seen his money, but clearly the man knew how to invest and stay rich. Of course, his money wasn’t what interested me.
Sex GOAT.I sighed again, unable to get enough of his broad shoulders, muscled arms, and the generous summer sausage between his powerful thighs.Stark is one manly specimen.Maybe this vampire situation wasn’t all that bad?
Stark returned with the brown glass bottle. “Drink, Masie. You must nourish yourself.”
I sat up, hugging the crisp white sheet to my bare breasts. Not sure why I bothered with the modesty since he’d been on all the rides at the Masie county fair: the tittie-whirl, the Masie-go-round, and the bottoms up. We’d done everything exceptthe ring toss because no man had any business hitching to my wagon.
I eyed the bottle skeptically. “I don’t know, Stark. Your moonshine just doesn’t sound appetizing.”Herbs and blood?“How about some more wine?” I glanced at the empty bottle of Chateau Meeso Hoeney on the nightstand. We’d drunk it last night before making love in front of the fireplace.
“You are a vampire now, and while you can consume wine, it will not sate you. This is what you need.” He held up the moonshine.
“Then why am I hankering for pizza?” Extra cheese. Hot and bubbly.
My stomach groaned loudly.
He raised a brow.
“Sorry. Can’t help it.” I shrugged.
He set the moonshine on the antique nightstand and sat next to me, brushing back a stray lock of my long hair—black just like Mamma and Maybell. We all had the same espresso-colored eyes, too. My friends at the Rooster liked to tease me and say I looked like a cross between Penelope Cruz and Dolly Parton on account of my generous lady melons.
“For some vampires,” he said firmly, “the mind takes months to accept the change. In the meantime, you must follow my rules, or you will become very sick.”
But I wasn’t ready totake the next step of knowingly drinking blood. Maybe because I kept hoping for a miracle that would return me back to human.
