The Real Werewives Of Vampire County Part 32

The Vampire Council and the wolf elders made it back to the house alive, which was a good sign.

Finnegan slapped me on the back so hard he almost knocked the wind out of me. "The war is off," he announced to the crowd at large. "Thanks to your hard work," he added under his breath.

Sure. Nothing like accolades for a job well done.

Oh, who was I kidding? I didn't need praise. I had a happy ending.

At least until, "Hi, Lucien." The corners of my mouth turned up as he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on the head.

We ignored the catcalls from my pack mates.

Yeah, yeah.

McPhee was smiling. McPhee was smitten.

McPhee was in love.

d.a.m.n it all.

I vowed to keep my pride. I'd let him go when the time came. I just hoped it wouldn't be tonight.

"Heather," he said into my hair, "we need to talk."

d.a.m.n.

I felt my smile falter. "Sure. Whatever you say."

He led me out of the packed kitchen and upstairs to his room.

Hoo-boy. To be dumped in the same spot where we'd made love this evening. I could hardly wait. Then again, maybe this was for the best. I'd know it was over. We'd make a clean break. I could do this.

I let out a hard breath.

This was worse than preparing for a fight.

"Heather." Lucien held my hand, his expression earnest. Curse him and his amazing body and his gorgeous lips and the way he made me feel hot even now when I knew he was about to hightail it out of town.

"Look," I said, unable to stand it. "I know you have to leave. You said it before we ever got involved."

It wasn't his fault.

It was mine for being stupid enough to fall for him.

"I do have to leave," he said, in that same infuriatingly calm tone.

I was so tempted to use my truth powers on him. My chin lowered and I stopped myself. What was the point? I already knew he was heading out for the next a.s.signment.

d.a.m.n the man. Would it kill him to be a little upset about this? Meanwhile my insides felt like they'd turned to glue.

"I'm heading down to New Orleans," he said, oblivious. "We're looking into a coven of voodoo mambos turned vampire."

"Sounds lovely," I said, just trying to make it through the conversation with my pride intact. In a second, I was going to cry.

He caressed my cheek, which made it worse.

Could we just get to the dumping part?

"It will be amazing," he said.

"I'm sure," I agreed.

"If you join me," he added.

"What?"

He looked vulnerable all of a sudden. "I could use a were who can make people tell the truth."

Was he actually saying what I thought he was saying? "I'm not even sure it works on vampires."

"Ask me if I care."

I couldn't leave with him. I didn't quite know why, but I knew there was a reason it had never occurred to me. "You can do this on your own," I said, making complete sense.

"It wouldn't be half as much fun," he said playfully.

Maybe so, but, "My pack needs me."

"You can fly back home if they do."

I tangled my hands in my lap. "Finnegan would never let me go."

He untangled them. "I made it part of our negotiations this evening."

"So you knew-"

"I think I've known all along." He brushed his lips over mine. "Go with me, Heather. Let's see where this leads."

I pulled back, but not so far as to unwrap my hands from his. "It can't be this easy," I said, trying to reason with him.

Nothing in my life had ever been this easy.

It could be amazing.

"Heather?" he asked, waiting for my answer.

He wasn't going to beg. I liked that in a vampire. Oh my G.o.d, was I actually considering this?

"Voodoo vampires, huh?" I asked. It could be interesting. And I'd never been to New Orleans.

"If I go"-I ran a finger down his chest-"will I get to sleep next to you?"

He pulled me closer. "Yes."

A smile tickled the edges of my lips. "Kiss you?"

His voice grew husky. "I hope."

"Would I have to let you bite me?" I hoped.

He nibbled kisses along the soft spot in front of my ear. "If you're lucky."

I tilted his chin my way for a long, lingering kiss.

"Okay," I said, before I lost all control and jumped headlong into bed with him. "I'll go to New Orleans."

"Ha!" He let out a very unvampirish whoop before tackling me back onto the bed.

"But I have a few rules," I said, wriggling against him. Antic.i.p.ating what was to come.

"I can't wait," he said, propped above me.

"I will not wear high heels."

"Done."

"I absolutely refuse to do any more breaking and entering."

"Prude."

He kissed his way down my neck until I almost forgot rule number three. "And," I said, running my fingers through his thick, blond hair, "I will not fall in love with you."

I could feel him smile against my neck. "We'll see."

WEREWOLVES IN CHIC CLOTHING.

TAMI DANE.

Mich.e.l.le Stewart waited her whole life for something exciting to happen. As an eight-year-old, she dreamed of learning she was actually a princess, inheriting a crown and ma.s.sive fortune.

Didn't happen.

As a teenager, she hoped to be discovered by an Elite Modeling agent in the mall.

Didn't happen.

As an adult, she fantasized about being swept off her feet by her Prince Charming and living a storybook happily-ever-after.

To everyone-but Mich.e.l.le-it appeared she was living that last fantasy. In reality, Mich.e.l.le wouldn't live to see any of her dreams come true....

CHAPTER 1.

I think I might have just moved into Stepford. If you've seen the movie, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't ... what are you waiting for? The Stepford Wives (I'm talking about the original film) is a cla.s.sic.

Back to Stepford. Why do I think I've moved there? Let me paint a visual picture for you. I was driving a rusty U-Haul, twenty-five years' worth of personal possessions, including my collection of vintage purses, packed into beat-up cardboard boxes. I was rolling past one perfectly kept home after another. The flower gardens were weed-free, gra.s.s freshly mowed. And everyone I saw was smiling.

It was d.a.m.ned creepy.

Maybe I'd lived in the city too long. I wanted to hear someone yell, "f.u.c.k you!" I ached for the rea.s.suring sound of a horn blaring in anger. Instead, I was getting happy birdsong and the distant rumble of a lawn mower.

Why did this bother me so much? Because if this suburban nirvana was anything like Stepford, there was absolutely no way I was going to fit in. I hate cooking. I kill plants. I've never been crafty.

And ... what the h.e.l.l was I doing?

You'd better be worth it, Jonathan Stewart.

One look at Jonathan Stewart, and almost every niggling doubt in my mind immediately evaporated.

h.e.l.looooo, handsome.

FYI, Jonathan Stewart, my soon-to-be fiance, is traffic-stopping gorgeous. He's also powerful, successful, generous, kind-downright perfect ... and he was standing in his driveway, wearing the world's biggest smile.

I am the luckiest woman alive.

Now, back to my story.

Jonathan was at my door, yanking it open before I'd even gotten the truck s.h.i.+fted into PARK. "h.e.l.lo, beautiful," he said, pulling me out of the vehicle.

"h.e.l.lo back," I said, sliding my arms around his waist. We kissed, and I saw stars. I heard angels singing, too. Then again, that might've been the robins. My knees were a little wobbly by the time the kiss ended.

Jon brushed my windblown hair out of my face. "How was your drive? I wish you would have let me handle the move for you."

"My drive was fine, thank you. And there was no point in hiring movers to load a few cardboard boxes." I motioned toward the house, which was huge and immaculate. "So, this is where you live?"

"We. This is where we live." Jon stepped to the side, one arm still curled around my waist. He motioned to his picture-perfect brick house. "Christine Price-soon to be Christine Stewart-welcome home."

"Home," I echoed, letting him guide me inside. "Oh ... wow." I couldn't believe this ... showroom ... was going to be my home. First, it was huge, but I'd already said that. And beautifully decorated, and ... there was absolutely no way the particleboard and laminate "furniture" I'd just hauled across three states was going to fit in here. We meandered through the foyer, past the sweeping staircase leading to the second floor, down a hallway that led to the rear of the house. On our way, we strolled past a formal living room that looked like it had never been used, past a formal dining room that also looked unused, and finally an office-slash-library. The hall ended at an open s.p.a.ce housing the family room and eat-in kitchen.

In the family room my eyes jumped from one thing to another. The sectional sofa screamed, Sit on me! The ginormous flat panel TV on a wall gleamed in the sunlight. A pair of comfy-looking leather club chairs created a cozy nook that inspired me to grab a book and cuddle up to read. The floor-to-ceiling windows lining the back wall beckoned me, the lush green landscape beyond framed in drapes (were they ... happy sigh! ... silk?).