I would have felt guilty about being such a drain on him, if I didn’t know that he appreciated the chance to turn off his brain for a bit, and enjoy the mental quiet that came with complete sexual exhaustion. Granted, I was pushing that concept to new heights since becoming a vampire-succubus hybrid, but I also knew that he hadn’t truly been drained to a dangerous degree.
I hadn’t been quite that far gone.
Rather than start stammering apologies, I nudged his shoulder with mine. “Nuh-uh. You’re not getting off that easily. I was promised a beach party with rich assholes to feed from. And you might be rich, but you still don’t count.”
“Guthrie would probably disagree with that assessment,” he said, clambering inelegantly to his feet and offering me a hand. “Still... if you insist.”
I took it and let him lever me upright with the effortless strength of the undead.
“Oh, I do. Let’s get cleaned up, and then we’ll go see how many sexual predators I can flush out tonight.”
TWO
ONCE UPON A TIME, I’d shared the common experience of the vast majority of people under the age of forty-five or so who also happened to have boobs. Wolf whistles, creepy comments, observations on how much prettier I’d be if I smiled more, or had more meat on my bones, or had less meat on my bones. Opinions on what I was wearing, or wasn’t wearing. Pushy propositions. Unwanted touching, with various degrees of lewdness.
Just some of the many joys of being a waitress—though I had no illusion that my experiences were unique to the profession.
Recently, though, I’d discovered that I took great enjoyment in finding men prone to those kinds of behaviors and feeding from their animus. Yes, it was petty. No, it probably wasn’t doing much of anything to change the world, or even to change the guys I drained. It did, however, give me a warm, smug sort of satisfaction—shallow though the feeling most certainly was.
The cruise ship we’d been hiding on before the Fae found us had been fertile hunting ground in that regard. I was willing to bet that a late-night beach party on a Caribbean island populated by rich tourists and twenty-something trust fund babies would also yield its share of people who didn’t understand the concept of taking no for an answer.
I appreciated the fact that Rans let me wander through the shifting crowd without hovering nearby—though I had no doubt he was keeping an eye on the proceedings to make sure I didn’t vamp out unexpectedly in front of so many witnesses. I was also pretty sure he got a secret kick from my dishing out minor vigilante justice, based on the number of times he’d appeared at exactly the right moment to further freak out some random perv who’d been hitting on me.
All of that had taken place before I became a vampire, though—back when I was just a lowly succubus hybrid grabbing an animus snack to keep myself powered up. This new undead development in my life opened up further avenues for exploration. I wasn’t gonna lie; the vampiric mesmerism thing was fucking awesome. Frankly, I was going to have to watch myself to make sure I didn’t start crossing lines better left uncrossed, simply because it was so easy.
My current Douche-of-the-Day had originally caught my attention when I came across him tipping something from a small plastic packet into a drink. Since that was seldom a good sign for the recipient of the drink, I followed him from the bar as he headed toward one of the large bonfires burning merrily along the beach. He approached a pretty girl hanging back at the edge of the crowd—one who honestly looked a few years too young to be drinking, even here on Antigua.
With a sense of vengeful justice warming the cold place in my chest that had once held a beating heart, I appeared at the douche’s side with inhuman speed, just as he was reaching out to hand the drink to the too-young girl.
“Nope,” I said simply, feeling the burning sensation behind my eyes that meant they were glowing with an unearthly copper light.
The guy went pale as chalk behind his carefully cultivated tan, the drink slipping from his fingers to land on the sand at our feet. And god, I could seriously get used to the rush that came with moments like this. I let my gaze fall on the girl, who was watching the interplay with her mouth falling open.
“Go find some people who aren’t predators to hang out with,” I told her. “And don’t ever accept a drink from someone you don’t know well, without watching it being made and handed to you.”
She nodded vacantly, her lips still parted in a soundless oh shape. Once she’d wandered away toward a group of people who looked closer to her age, I turned my full attention back to Douche-of-the-Day. The smile I gave him was probably terrifying. I’d learned it from Rans, after all.
“So... got any friends at this party, Studmuffin?” I asked pleasantly. “Because if so, I’d just love to meet them.”
* * *
Studmuffin’s friends were hanging out a bit farther down the beach. There were three of them, college-aged or maybe a year or two older. They were currently arrayed in a half-circle around an attractive girl in a bikini, penning her against the side of a drinks hut and ignoring the fixed and slightly panicked-looking oh-god-someone-please-get-me-out-of-here fake smile on her face.
Because of course they were.
One of them looked up at our approach—a blond guy who could have made a casting call for Baywatch, in a pinch. “Chet? Where you been, dude?” His gaze fell on me, falling predictably to nipple level after sliding over my face. “Whoa! Score, man.”
Jesus H. Christ.
Studmuffin’s name was Chet? Seriously?
Unfortunately, Chet wasn’t in a position to do much
