This is a FREE download. EXCERPT: The longer he watched the crowd the easier it was to pick out the vamp tramps from the actual bloodsuckers. Like Gareth, the vampires all had flawless skin and Hollywood hair (even the ones who had dyed it electric yellow or fire engine red) and the tramps had a definite uniform. Aside from the black clothing many of them wore chokers or collars to hide neck bites. Almost all of them wore white bandages wrapped around their wrists, or wide wristbands and piles of bracelets. A few wore crosses around their necks. Jamie knew that it meant a vampire had claimed them, and the cross was a warning to other vampires—do not touch. His eyes traveled over to a thin young man with a cross around his neck. A small busty vampire with an Elvira hair style had one hand clamped around his wrist, holding onto him so tightly his skin was turning white where her fingers dug in to his flesh. She was speaking to a tall blond man, and when Jamie turned his attention to him, everyone else in the room seemed utterly worthless. If all vampires automatically became a nine when they were turned, this one was a twelve. His black t-shirt was just tight enough over his broad chest, and his face was chiseled to perfection. Jamie had a terrible urge to pet his soft-looking hair. “He’s the one,” he said to himself. He continued to stare. Bite me, suck me, drain me dry and watch me die, he thought at the man. It was the perfect death, lying pale and still and lifeless in this man’s perfect arms in the circular tower room. Sleeping Beauty in the arms of the evil fairy. His angel of death. Jamie’s feet were moving in the direction of this beautiful creature before he realized it and as he neared he could hear the conversation the two vampires were having. “…slumming it,” his angel said, “but I crave violence and decadence tonight.” “We have all of that and more,” Elvira assured. He did not have the courage to slit his own wrists, but somehow it was easy for Jamie to walk up to this angel. The conversation died as he approached them. He looked into his angel’s eyes and said, “You are the most beautiful creature on earth.” They both stared at him silently. The woman began to giggle and then she began to snort. She let go of her pet human’s wrist to bury her face in her hands, laughing into them in a less than elegant fashion. Jamie’s face burned. He turned away ready to leave, quite certain he would have no problems killing himself after that. He was halfway to the door when someone grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back. It was his angel. Jamie, still flushed with humiliation, couldn’t speak. His angel didn’t speak either. He turned over Jamie’s wrist, examining it with soft, gentle fingers. No one ever touched him like that—with care and tenderness. Jamie immediately held out his other arm and turned it so he could see there were no marks on that one either. The vampire moved closer, reaching behind Jamie’s head to unsnap the choker. The crack of the metal separating echoed in his ears and it fell to the floor. The man’s hands skated across his skin, tilting his head this way and then that. His fingers probed the back of Jamie’s neck and he felt the hairs there stand on end. His heart raced when the vampire took his pulse. “Are you a virgin?” his angel of death asked. “No,” Jamie lied. “I mean, has anyone ever bit you?” “No.” He dared to meet the vampire’s cold blue eyes. “Never.” “I thought not. Would you like to come upstairs with me?” Jamie nodded. “Say yes or no.” “Yes. Very much.” |
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Leigh Wilder: