Accidental Sire (Half-Moon Hollow #6)

We talked about our favorite foods. (Be breakfast food, or be nothing.) We talked about our fandoms. (I was a Ravenclaw, and he was a Hufflepuff, which almost ended the conversation right there.) We talked about our favorite obscure gummy candy. (I didn’t even realize there was such a thing as gummy bacon strips. I was thoroughly ashamed.)

It was almost two when he finally had to go home, but he grinned kind of sheepishly and said, “So, I was thinking that we’d skip the whole ‘will he call or won’t he’ drama by my just asking you out now. You know, cut out the middleman. And I’m not going to play around with some silly coffee date, either. I’m going straight to dinner. Maybe even a place with actual metal silverware.”

“A true gentleman draws the line at plastic sporks,” I told him, my lips quirking as I fought a smile. It was a charming, if wordy, way to ask me out, and I could appreciate that. “And just to take the pressure off, if you were to ask me out, there’s a pretty good chance I would say yes.”

The smile that broke over his face was blinding. “That’s good to know.”

I waited, in silence, while he stared at me.

“Oh, you want me to ask now?” he said. I pursed my lips and waggled my hand back and forth as he leaned closer. “Man, you’re pushy.”

I burst out laughing, even as his arms slipped around my waist. This was what girls my age were supposed to do. Flirt with nice boys and stay out late, not worry about bills and my hours getting cut. “I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be all forthright. This whole conversation reeks of Slytherin sass.”

“Oh, wow,” he said, his lips barely brushing against my own. “You are a nerd.”

“Still better than being a Hufflepuff,” I murmured against his mouth.

“You’re gonna have to let that go,” he said, his mouth closing over mine. As far as first kisses went, it was . . . pretty amazing. Sweet and slow and warm, with just a hint of tongue. I felt it all the way down to my toes, which were curling in my cute little black boots. We only broke apart when kids leaving the party came filtering out of the lobby and catcalled us.

“It’s not likely,” I said, when he pulled away.

“So . . . dinner,” he said. “In a place without sporks. When would be a good time for you?”

“Saturday would be good.”

“Six?” he asked. When I nodded, he gave me another quick peck on the lips. “Awesome. I will call you. And if I don’t call, you text me, call me a dumbass, and I will send apology cookies.”

“Cookies?” I asked as he backed away.

“Flowers are overdone,” he called back.

I giggled—honest to God giggled—but I managed not to do the awkward little wave my arm ached to give.

Suddenly, I heard a quick bark of warning, but before I could even respond, I felt a crushing blow against my chest. I was knocked off my feet and thrown into the wall behind me. I felt my head collide against the stone with a sick crack before I collapsed to the ground like a broken doll.

Ben screamed my name, but I couldn’t even lift my head. His voice grew closer, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I had never known pain like this in my life. My chest felt hot and wet, on the inside and the outside. I couldn’t feel anything below my waist. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move enough air through my throat to produce words. People gathered around me, staring down at my twisted body with expressions of horror on their faces.

Ben lifted something off my chest. It appeared to be a forty-five-pound barbell weight. The vampires were playing Ultimate Frisbee with a forty-five-pound weight. And they’d missed.

My brain was going dark, as if I was slipping away into some corner deep inside my head, where it didn’t hurt so much. I could feel the grass under my back getting slick and hot, while I got colder.

Ben was screaming for help, for someone to call 911. I managed to lift my arms enough to feel that my ribs were definitely going in the wrong direction. Tina Messinger, our dorm director, suddenly appeared over me, her frizzy brown hair forming a cloud around her head. Through the haze of pain and blood pounding in my ears, I heard her squeaky voice say, “This is bad. I can see her ribs poking out through her shirt. This is really bad.”

That was exactly what I needed to hear.

I opened my mouth to point out how unhelpful this was, but blood was bubbling up between my lips, making it hard to push air through to make sounds.

Please, help me. Please.

I didn’t want to die. I was too young. I hadn’t seen anything of the world. I’d barely left Kentucky. I’d barely lived.

“You’re going to be OK,” Ben told me, sternly, as if he could command me to get up and shake it off. He cupped my chin in his hand and moved my head gently so I was forced to meet his eyes. “Meagan, just keep breathing. Stay awake.”

I was trying. Couldn’t he see how hard I was trying? The tiny flow of oxygen I was drawing in through my nose seemed like a championship effort.

“Meagan,” Tina said, wiping at my mouth and smearing her hands with bright red. “I’m not a doctor, but you have a lot of injuries, and they are pretty bad. The chances of you surviving this . . . I don’t know if the ambulance will get to you in time. You signed your consent form before you moved in, but I have to ask you again: do you want to be turned?”

I nodded my head, or at least I thought I did. I couldn’t really feel much anymore.

Anything to make the pain go away. Anything to avoid dying. Please.

“Can I get a vampire volunteer?” Tina yelled. “I need a vampire to act as an emergency sire! Get over here, and present your Council card!”

My eyes fluttered shut, and I heard Ben cry for me to stay awake, to keep my eyes open. Everything felt heavy and cold, dragging me down into the darkness. Someone lifted my arms and slashed at my wrists, pain that barely registered against the agony in my chest. I was cold and tired, and I hurt so much. It seemed so much easier to just go to sleep, to let go and drift off, even as something cool and coppery dripped into my mouth.

The last thing I remembered was Ben yelling, “Meagan!”



The memory faded, and here was Ben again, standing in my hospital room, bleeding, and my fangs were out. Because I was a vampire. This was bad. This was so very bad.

“How are you already awake?” Ben asked, pushing to his feet and stumbling toward me as I backed away.

Thump-a-thump-a-thump.

“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head, clamping my lips around my teeth. “But I think you need to get away from me. Ben, you’re bleeding.”

“What?” He glanced down at his hand. “Oh.”

I slapped my hands over my fangs, but he didn’t move away like I expected. In fact, he stepped closer, edging me back until the backs of my legs bumped against the bed. That burning thirst crackled through my throat, making the act of swallowing painful.

Thump-a-thump-a-thump.

“But you’re OK?” he asked, the corners of his mouth lifting into a hopeful smile.

“I’m OK, but I think you’re in danger,” I told him, even as my nose followed that delicious scent and urged me forward. My lips parted, and I could feel my mouth water at the scent of him. I was lucky I wasn’t drooling down my chin.