Undead and Unappreciated (Undead #3)

Undead and Unappreciated (Undead #3) Page 12

I bumped into Marc on the way to my room to get shoes and car keys. He was scruffy (it was amazing how someone with such brutally short hair constantly looked like he needed a comb) and his scrubs were a mess.

"Why are you here?" I asked him.

"I'm pulling a double tomorrow, so Dr. Abrams let me knock off early." He peered at me. "You've got blood on your-"

"No," I said, "I mean, why are you here? Sucking off me like a big leech? You've only got your father, he's sick, but instead of tending to your business you're hanging around here butting into my business, paying-what?-two hundred bucks a month to live in a mansion? You hate your job, you hate your life, you haven't had a date in all the time I've known you, never mind a relationship, and the only way you can feel like you're worth anything is to tag along on vampire errands. Pathetic, Dr. Spangler. Really really lame."

He was gaping at me, which was pretty funny. Finally he said, "I don't hate my job."

Good comeback... not! "Move, Dr. Leech," I said, and shoved past him. Lucky for him I was full. I made a mental note to throw his ass out tomorrow, after he'd had a day to mull over each and every truthful observation I'd made. Maybe he and Jessica would get together and cry on each other's shoulders. That could be funny.

I got to my room and kicked my Manolos out of the way. Ridiculous! Teetery high heels-when would I wear lavender pumps? I'd thought to wear them when I married Andrea and Daniel, but not only were they totally stupid shoes to wear in my position, I sure as shit wasn't going to let a vampire marry her sheep. They were food, not partners. What had I been thinking when I congratulated them? Congratulated?

I decided to take it easy on myself. Okay, I hadn't been thinking, in fact, I'd been running from my destiny. I hadn't figured it out then, but I had a handle on it now. It was the difference between being a young vampire and a queen.

I opened my closet door and pawed through the orderly piles of shoes. Yellow leather sandals-idiotic. Red knee-high boots-gaudy. Roger Vivier evening pumps beaded with turquoises. Turquoise! I hated turquoise, but I'd dropped almost a thousand bucks on a shoe decorated with that ridiculous rock. Fontenau heels in piss yellow... which I could only wear with black. Manolo Blahnik pumps in basic black... I could have gotten black pumps at Wal-Mart for twenty bucks!

Marabou mules. Emma Hope slippers. Japanese smiley face slippers-smiley faces! Leather golf cleats in tan and white... I didn't play golf. Cowboy boots... I didn't have a horse! I didn't even like to go out to the garden.

What was wrong with me? I'd pissed away thousands of dollars on stuff that went on my feet. My money problems would have been solved ages ago if I'd just stuck with flip-flops.

I finally found a pair of old green rubber boots I wouldn't be annoyed to be seen in and tugged them on, then clomped out the door in search of my purse. The mansion was worthy of my station, but it always took a while to get organized and out the door. Maybe I'd have elevators installed. And those concave mirrors they had in convenience stores. It would be nice to see who was coming down the hall.

Speaking of surprises, I rounded yet another corner and there was His Majesty King Sinclair coming toward me.

He was impeccably dressed in trademark temperate colors: dark slacks, black belt, black shirt, black wool greatcoat. The dark clothes made even his eyes seem black, like a starless night in the middle of winter; I couldn't tell where the irises stopped and the pupils began.

There was some color in his cheeks-not a chill from being outside like you'd expect from a regular guy, but because he'd recently fed. I wondered who he'd bitten. Normally I tried not to think about it, but since he'd ditched the harem (in a needy attempt to get on my good side) he had to be hard up for blood.

Maybe he pounced on muggers and rapists, like I did. Of course, due to recent eye-opening events, I was a little more broad-minded now about the quality of victims. Really, if they were on the street, they were fair game. It's not like they died from it or anything. Well, they might now. But I had other things to worry about.

"You're looking yummy," I said, reaching out as he neared and stroking the lapel of his coat. "As usual."

"So are... you..." he replied slowly, stopping in mid-stride and giving me a closer look. "You smell like blood. You've spilled some on your shirt."

"Silly me."

"And are those rubber boots?"

I edged closer. "Don't you think there are more interesting things for us to talk about than footgear?"

His gorgeous brow wrinkled. "Er... well, yes, frankly, but-"

I pulled him close and kissed him on the mouth. His firm, yummy mouth. Ooofa. How had I kept my hands off him all these months? His room was five doors down from mine, not five miles.

His hands were instantly all over me, slipping up the back of my turtleneck and clutching my shoulders. Oh, good, he wasn't going to be difficult.

I ripped through his coat and shirt, and we lurched back and forth in the hallway, clothes tearing, tongues exploring. We crashed through a door-and I don't mean we bumped into it and it flew open. I mean we left splinters and fell over a chair or something-I dunno, I wasn't taking a fucking inventory, I didn't even know what room we were in-and then we were rolling around on the dusty carpet.

His throat was right over my mouth while his hands were busy below my waist, tearing through my clothes to give himself access, and I couldn't resist and bit him. He stiffened above me, and I nearly groaned as his warm sweet/salty blood filled my mouth. His hands moved fester, the tearing got louder, and then he was shoving his way inside me, filling me up, and I rose to meet him and then pulled back from his neck.

I licked his throat, and he seized me by the hair, jerked my head to one side, and sank his fangs into my neck. His rough urgency shoved me over into orgasm, and I brought my knees up and met him thrust for thrust. I had another one and was trying for big number three when he shuddered and his head dropped to my shoulder.

"So," I said after a moment, "you're gonna need a new coat."

He laughed. "Among other things."

I stuck out my arm and looked at my watch over his shoulder. "Well, we've got about an hour until the sun comes up. I was gonna run down to Scratch, but I guess I could do that tomorrow."

"Is it time for the tiresome small talk?"

"I was thinking it was time for the oral sex."

He rolled off me, jumped to his feet, picked me up in his arms, and galloped to my room.