Мишель Роуэн - Tall, Dark & Fangsome

Jerk-face was her pet name for Thierry. I had a similar term of endearment for her vampire husband, Barry, so I guess it all equaled out.

I cleared my throat. “That doesn’t mean I want to start dating again. At least, not this soon.”

“Jeremy would be perfect for you.” She paused. “Although, he’d also be perfect for

George, if you know what I mean. Don’t you love a man who’s flexible about certain things?”

Sounded like an episode of Jerry Springer in the making, actually.

“I appreciate the thought, but I need some time on my own right now.”

She nodded sadly and patted my arm. “Your heart is broken in a million pieces.

Sometimes the best thing to do is to get back on that horse and gallop right out of town into the sunset with a new, perfect man.” She cocked her head to the side as she thought about it. “Or having a one-night stand with a super-hot guy would probably work wonders, too.”

“Wallowing in solitude is also a great use of time after a breakup. No one-night stands need apply.”

She sighed. “You’re not thinking there’s a chance you and Thierry are going to get back together, are you?”

I chewed my bottom lip and shook my head. “It’s over. Him and me were completely wrong for each other from the very start. This is all for the best.”

It sounded perfectly rehearsed because it was.

Amy nodded. “Well, you’re right about that. He was a pompous jerk who didn’t deserve you. I knew from the beginning that he was a complete waste of your valuable time.”

I blinked. “Yeah, except for that dirty little crush you had on him, you mean.”

She blanched at the reminder. “I thought we were going to forget about that.”

“The image of the goo-goo eyes you used to make behind his back is still burned into my brain cells.”

Her cheeks reddened. “Please stop.”

I repressed a smile. “Listen, don’t worry about me. Seriously. Every day is a little easier. I hardly ever think about Thierry anymore.”

Also rehearsed. Every morning when I woke up in my bed all alone I said it to the stucco ceiling—which rarely had any critiques of my acting ability.

“Have you heard from Veronique lately?” Amy asked. “I wonder if she’s planning on swooping down and grabbing him now that you’re out of the picture.”

“Haven’t seen her lately, so I have no idea what she’s up to.”

Veronique was Thierry’s wife. Yes, the man I’d been involved with had been married for hundreds of years to a woman who was the epitome of perfection—beautiful, charming, rich, and powerful.

Their marriage was in name only. They’d been separated for more than a century before I even met Thierry. Veronique unapologetically and frequently dated men a fraction of her age and enjoyed her own life, which she lived mostly in Europe with occasional visits to

North America. There was no love there anymore between them.

Thierry had recently attempted to get an annulment from vampire contacts at the Vatican itself—apparently the only way to get out of a marriage the length of theirs—but she refused to sign the papers. She wasn’t evil, she was simply self-centered. Ending their marriage didn’t benefit her in any way so she didn’t see any logical reason to sign.

Her lightly French-accented explanation still buzzed in my ears like a swarm of Gucci-

wearing bees.

“Love has very little to do with a successful marriage, my dear.”

The memory still made my blood boil with equal parts frustration and annoyance.

Amy and I returned to the bar, and I let Jeremy down as gently as possible. He took it like a champ.

“If you ever want to hook up, give me a call.” He handed me a business card, then turned to George. “Great talking to you.”

“Yeah, you, too,” George agreed as Jeremy walked away. Then he gave me a dirty look.

“Big mistake, Sarah. He was H-O-T. He actually made working in Human Resources sound like fun. Which I cannot imagine it actually is.”

“Sounds like you liked him.”

“Well… I was getting a vibe.”

I handed him the business card. “He’s all yours.”

“Thanks!” He smiled at me. “Now I totally forgive you for spilling your nasty dollar-store shampoo on my carpet yesterday.”

I frowned and absently itched my scalp. I couldn’t help it if I was on a strict budget as the remainder of my meager savings trickled away like cheap shower gel down the drain. Hair doesn’t clean itself, after all.

Thankfully, the drinks tonight were on Amy’s tab. I couldn’t eat solid food without yakking, but for some reason mixed drinks didn’t bother me at all. Along with not having a reflection—definitely one of my least favorite parts of my new life—I racked that up to unexplainable phenomena.

Over the last couple of weeks, I’d been on a crash course to learn as much about vampires as I could. Counting on other people to guide me was unreliable at best, dangerous at worst. I’d learned that the hard way. The Internet, however, was a vast resource. As soon as I broke through the crusty covering of popular myths, everything I needed to know about real vampire culture was right there at my fingertips.

I might be getting carpal tunnel syndrome and becoming a fanged computer geek, but at least I was getting educated. Better late than never.

I sucked the remainder of my drink clean right down to the naked ice cubes.

Another Tequila Sunrise immediately landed in front of me.

I glanced up at the bartender. “You must be psychic.”

He shook his head. “This is compliments of the gentleman in the corner.”

I swiveled around on the stool to look where he indicated. Other than two slutty-looking vamps shaking their groove thing on the dance floor, nobody was there.

“Who did you say sent this?” I asked the bartender.

“He must have left. Tall guy. Good-looking in a dark and miserable sort of way.”

“Sounds exactly like Sarah’s type,” George observed, then poked me in the shoulder. “I need to dance. Let’s go dance. I love this song.”

“Not in the mood.”

“I’ll go.” Amy slipped off the stool and teetered precariously on her four-inch platform heels. She gave me a pointed look. “After all, somebody should have some fun tonight.”

Well, that was a bit rude. Accurate, but rude.

I watched the two of them depart to shimmy to Madonna and Justin singing about saving the world in four minutes. I absently twisted the gold chain I wore until it began to cut off the circulation to my index finger.

The chain was ugly. It looked cheap and heavy and didn’t go with any of my wardrobe.

I’d never wear it if I had any say in the matter.

I didn’t have any say.

Thanks to my nightwalker curse, the chain was the only thing keeping me from biting necks and killing people for kicks. Nightwalkers had existed a few hundred years ago, their vicious nature caused by a rare strain of the virus that turned humans into vamps.

They were the reason for all the untrue myths about vampires being totally evil. They were the reason that hunters exist in the first place.

Nightwalkers were wiped off the face of the planet by those hunters to protect unassuming humans—and other vampires.

Which meant that, currently, I was the only vamp in the world with nightwalker tendencies—an uncontrollable dark thirst that spread over me, a need to feed on humans or other vamps as if they were an all-Sarah-can-eat buffet. I also couldn’t go out during the day or the sunlight would fry me. There was no sunscreen on earth that could keep me from turning into a crispy critter if I wasn’t wearing the chain.

The witch who’d cursed me was dead now. No chance to get her to reverse the curse.