Midnight Bites (The Morganville Vampires)(84)

I didn’t know what to say, except, finally, “Yes.” It came out a whisper, timid and slow, but it seemed to ring like a bell on the still air. I said it again, stronger. “Yes. Oh, God, yes.”

He kissed me. It wasn’t his normal kind of sweet, gentle kiss—this was full of the same intensity, the same desperate focus. I wanted him in all kinds of ways, with identical ferocity. He was growling, a little, in the back of his throat, and sliding his hands down my arms.

Then he picked me up and carried me down the steps, into the shadows. It was wild, and crazy, and stupid, but neither of us cared just then; we just needed.

And that moment came, when his teeth grazed my neck. I thought about Gloriana, about that need inside him she’d used against him. I thought about all my long-held vows to myself, and weighed all that against how much I loved him.

I put my hand on his cheek. “Michael.” He licked my skin, just above the veins. “Michael, do it. Go ahead.”

For a second he didn’t move, and then he slowly pulled away and looked down at me. I couldn’t read his expression. “You’re sure,” he said. “You’re really sure.”

“I’m sure. Just, you know, don’t—” Kill me, I thought. My heartbeat was thumping so fast it sounded like war drums. “I don’t want to be turned. You know that.”

“I know,” he said, very softly. “One more time. You’re sure.”

“Yes.” This time, I heard certainty in my own voice, and a kind of peace settled over me. “Yes.”

I can’t remember what it felt like, not really; it was overwhelming, and scary, and wonderful, and so, so much better than I’d ever imagined. He licked the wound gently, until the bleeding stopped, and then gently kissed it. I felt dizzy and woozy and unbelievably high—vampire bites can do that, if they do it right. If they take the time. Or so I’d heard.

I sank against Michael’s chest, and he held me. “Okay?” he whispered. I made a wordless sound of pleasure and snuggled in against him. “Thank you.”

I laughed. “It wasn’t a gift, Michael.”

He kissed my nose. “No,” he agreed. “But you are. I don’t know what I’d be without you, Eve. But I don’t want to find out.”

“Not even if Gloriana comes calling?”

“Especially,” he said, very seriously. “You were amazing, by the way. You made her look . . .”

“Cheap?” I said cheerfully.

“Immature,” he said, and kissed my hand. “You looked like the sexiest woman in the world.”

“Well, in fairness, I am the sexiest woman in the world.”

“And you’re always right.”

“You are so brilliant.”

He helped me to my feet, and got handsy settling my dress back around me comfortably. Then he held me in place and stared down at me for a long moment.

“Am I really sexier than Gloriana?” I asked.

And that got me a slow, very sexy smile. “Sorry, don’t think I know anyone by that name.”

And then he took off his suit jacket, wrapped it around my shoulders, and walked me back up to the party.





VEXED




Dedicated to Cassie Gilmon for her support of the Morganville digital series Kickstarter, 2014

And now, we have our next original short story . . . and another one for Myrnin, because Cassie wanted it that way! Technically, it’s Myrnin and Oliver, who have a strange affinity, mostly because they’re both capable of being utterly weird and cruel when pushed, but also capable of kindness. Myrnin’s kindness is on display here, but so is his weirdness, and Oliver’s cruelty. A little of everything, and a creepy tale of a pursuit that ends in a sinister house with secrets, ghosts, lies, and monsters.

Some of the monsters, they’ve brought in with them.

Fun factoid: I borrowed (as I am prone to do, with vampire tales) from history for this, specifically the gruesome story of the Bloody Benders, who ran a combination store / traveler’s inn, with murder on the side, in 1870s Kansas. The names I used were correct to that period, and I have a fondness for bizarre names, having great-aunts named Pearly Lake and Precious Jewel in my family tree. Rumor says there was also a relative named Holy Bible, but I can’t swear to that one.





“I feel this is all going to come to a bad end,” Myrnin said, and clung to the handle above the passenger-side door as the car shrieked around another turn. It was a black and moonless night, and without headlights, a human driver would certainly have crashed by now, but the driver was far from human.

However, Oliver also wasn’t a terribly good driver, even as a vampire, and the tires jumped the curb. A mailbox impacted the side of the car just behind where Myrnin sat and went flying, spilling a sad scatter of bills and letters.

“Shut up,” Oliver said, as Myrnin opened his mouth to comment. Myrnin obeyed, because the tension in the man’s voice was on the edge of violence. “I hate these . . . mechanical beasts. No wonder Amelie insists on a driver.”

“I can drive. Claire taught me.”

“Bad luck for all the others on the road, then. Shut up. I’m trying to concentrate.”

“You will never catch him like this.”