Chapter 1 Excerpt
Steve was dead.
I mean, Steve had always been dead, as long as we'd been together, but tonight he was really fucking dead.
I was going to kill him.
Why was I going to kill my undead boyfriend?
He'd eaten Mrs Yakovitch's dog.
Don't get me wrong, I saw the appeal.
It was annoying. Small, yappy, that weird yellow, off white, stinky old lady dog colour with gunky eyes but when I got in from my shitty shift at Garret's Pharmacy and opened the fridge to pull out a nice cold beer, I did not expect to see the pathetic decapitated head of my neighbour's beloved pet.
I turned on the main overhead light and surveyed the apartment. There was little white fluffy bits all over the fucking sofa. He'd eaten her while watching TV.
"Steve?"
No answer. I tried again, louder. But I already knew exactly where he was.
I slid against the kitchen cupboards.
That was the thing they didn't warn you about when you promise your soft goth heart to a vampire at age eighteen and swear to love him forever: one day, you'll be twenty four, dating a perpetual teenager and your furniture will be covered in dead dog.
I dropped my head into my hands. I knew where he was.
…
Cold air burnt at the skin of my thighs but I’d be suffocating in the sweaty heat of Nosta’s soon and the leather mini made me feel like Buffy the Vampire slayer gone dark. I stomped past the front line, feeling envious eyes watching my cherry red leather Docs march up to the VIP entrance.
Finn raised an eyebrow, at whatever he saw on my face but slide the bolts across and opened the vault door. I stepped into the dark, hands clenched.
The weird ass orchestral dance music Steve and his cadre liked to listen to played loud enough to interrupt conversation but not loud enough to feel it in my sternum. I was the immediate focus of twenty black eyes that gave away how audible my heartbeat still was to all of them and how extra their hearing was.
I steeled my voice.
“Tell Steveno, Becca wants him.”
No one moved. I swallowed, clearing the lump from my throat that always appeared when I was locked in a dark room with twenty apex predators who wanted to eat me.
“Rebecca Friar, his paramour. Get. Him. He’ll want to know.”
I dug my fingers into the black velvet sleeves of my off the shoulder crop, staring down the marble faces of the beautiful undead.
Of course, it was all for show. They could smell my adrenaline. They knew I was a quick lunge to the throat away from pissing myself but my name meant something to them after six years of it’s association with Steve.
A red head in a black leather catsuit flinched, disappearing behind a curtain and up the back stairs.
I readjusted my stance, shoulders back, tits up, black hair flipped across my shoulder, just in time for Steve to saunter in.
