Always the Vampire

I snuggled closer, my head on his chest. “Are he and his crew going underground figuratively or literally?”


“Literally. Ray’s heard on the undead grapevine that the illness slows in vampires who live in basements, so he’s going one better. He’s moving the crew deep into caverns.”

“In Florida?”

“West of Tallahassee.”

“Huh. Hope he has mega cases of bottled blood to take.”

“He has enough, but he’s also taking the blood bunnies.”

I pushed upright and stared at Saber’s somber expression. Blood bunnies were groupies and donators, and the three I knew of were romantically involved with some of Ray’s vampires. But surely he wasn’t forcing them to go.

“He’s not,” Saber said.

“Not what?”

“Not forcing the blood bunnies.”

“You’re reading my mind?”

“Your face. They volunteered to go, and I approved the plan.”

“Simple as that? Don’t those women have jobs and families?”

“Families not so much, from what I know. I assume they’ve taken leave or vacation time from jobs.” He shrugged. “They may be young, but they’re legal adults, Cesca.”

“True.” The blood bunny I’d had a fondness for, the lisping Cici, had cut her ties with the Daytona Beach vampires even before Ray took over. She’d moved to St. Augustine, was attending a local college, and worked at Walmart.

“Look at the upside. The bunnies can make grocery and Starbloods runs, thus protecting the public.”

“The bunnies can also notify the VPA of any deaths.”

“True,” he said. “And best of all, their vampire lovers won’t go through the illness alone.”

Neither will you, I silently vowed, and cupped his cheek in my palm. “Saber, you’re such a romantic.”

He waggled his dark brows and pulled me close again. “Any fantasies I can fulfill while the night is still young? A candlelit bath, perhaps?”

I levered away and gave him my best intense stare. “Are you sure you don’t read my mind?”

“Only as much as you read mine.”

With that and an enigmatic grin, he rose and strolled into the bedroom. The faucets roared with water a moment later, so I locked the door, reset the alarm, and joined Saber. With candlelight flickering on the glass tiled walls of my art deco bathroom, the swirl of warm, scented water in the jetted tub, and my man both relaxing me into a rag and stimulating me to passion, I never did puzzle out if he was reading my mind or not.





I found Saber’s note on the turquoise 1950s retro kitchen table the next afternoon. He wrote that he’d gone to Cosmil’s and would see me after my ghost tour for some more quality time before I took off for the bachelorette weekend in Fernandina Beach. He’d also programmed Triton’s and Cosmil’s cell numbers into my phone. What a guy.

If you’re wondering why a design student has an art deco bathroom, a retro kitchen, a surfer-chic bedroom, and a British-colonial living room, it’s because I’d gone period mad when I decorated. However, since most of the period flavor was in the accessories, the décor could be easily changed if and when I ever moved out of the cottage and into a place truly my own.

I didn’t think about Saber and I moving in together. At least I hadn’t until this past week when he’d camped out with me. After coming home to an empty house during those weeks he was on the road, I admitted that having him to myself every night was tempting.

Did I have wedding fever?

I pondered that as I dressed in black shorts and a lime green T-shirt, and with my hair in a ponytail, my feet in black sandals, I headed out to meet Maggie at Daphne Dupree’s store, Beach Bake. The shop was located on the island near Dondanville Road, so I avoided the downtown route in favor of taking US 1 to the 312 bridge, then heading south on A1A. The same direction we’d taken to Cosmil’s place on Tuesday.

Maggie wore business casual and gave me a broad grin as I exited my SSR. “Things really are back to normal with you and Saber, huh?”

“How can you tell?”

“You’re glowing.”

“Only pregnant women and people exposed to way too much radiation glow, Maggie.”

“And women getting great sex.”

“Okay, if women glow, what do men do?”

“If they know what’s good for them, they keep doing their women right.”

I shook my head. “Good thing you’re getting married.”

“Isn’t it?” she countered brightly. “Plus it’s the perfect excuse to gorge myself with chocolate.”