“He’s hot, but he’s weird,” Gemma said, hiding from The Kev in my bedroom. “He told me I wasn’t all human,” she hissed.
“What did you say to that?” I asked, staring at my ceiling and looking for the little ugly monsters. Where in the hell were they?
“I didn’t say anything. I punched him.”
“Holy shit,” I laughed, impressed that she got a shot in. I’d been fight training with The Kev for a while, and barely ever made a dent in him. “What did he do?”
“He laughed and congratulated me on my fabulous left jab.”
“Awesome,” I grinned.
“I suppose,” she giggled.
We still hadn’t seen The Kev’s wings, but everything else about him was utterly magical. His main shortcoming was his choice in apparel. If he wasn’t running around buck ass naked, which I had expressly forbidden, he put together the most hideous ensembles. Bless his heart.
Case in point—yesterday he wore a bright purple muscle T-shirt with gold spandex leggings, flip flops and an orange skull cap. I wasn’t sure where he was locating these items and was afraid to ask. I had a very bad feeling that he and Pam had been shopping online with my credit cards while I slept.
Along with my daily tutoring at the Cressida House from Venus, who was quickly becoming a close friend, my fight training with The Kev had gotten serious. I’ve never worked so hard or been as sore in my entire life. I’d only taken The Kev down once and it had not been easy. He was so delighted when I bested him that he slapped me on the back and sent me flying into a tree, which I knocked down. It was a hundred year old oak.
As lovely as The Kev was, that bastard punched hard. Not only did I get a major concussion from the tree, I’d had two black eyes, two split lips, four broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder to prove it, and that was after only four days of training. Thank God I was a Vampyre or I’d be for real dead. Well, that and The Kev’s blood. Fairy blood heals. Without The Kev’s blood I’d be a mess. I was too new a Vampyre to heal very quickly.
The Kev let me drink from him whenever I wanted. Again, strangely enough, it wasn’t sexual with the Kev even though I drank from his neck. Pam was not happy about me drinking so much Fairy blood, but she knew it was necessary for me to heal. Apparently the combination of Fairy blood and Angel blood was very powerful, and pretty much untested. When they thought I was asleep I heard her tell him he’d better train me “fuckin’ good.” According to Pam there were a lot of beings that would want me dead with the unimaginable strength and Magic I would soon have from all the celestial blood I’d been partaking in.
Between Venus’ tutoring and The Kev’s fight classes I knew more about bloodsuckers and ass kicking than I could ever want to in twenty lifetimes. I still hadn’t revealed anything about Pam or The Kev to any of my new Vampyre friends—not even Venus.
They hadn’t forbidden me to talk about them, but it just didn’t feel right.
Since my disastrous decision about getting hypnotized left me dead, I had been following my gut ever since.
Chapter 7
Visiting a graveyard at 2:30 in the morning could indicate one of two things. I was drunk and really stupid. Or I was a Vampyre out to pay respects to my beloved recently dead grandmother and didn’t want to fry my ass in the sun. I fell into the latter category.
“Why the hell is it getting colder?” I asked the crumbling sidewalk. Surprisingly, it didn’t answer. With all the unbelievable occurrences in my life, I half expected the damn sidewalk to strike up a conversation. It was June for Christ’s sake. It wasn’t supposed to be cold. I hurried my pace, wondering if it was going to storm, and ended up right in front of Nana’s huge gravestone. I shivered and got a creepy feeling that I wasn’t alone. I looked around to make sure no one was about to witness how bonkers I’d become.
“Nana?” I whispered. Nothing. If at first you don’t succeed . . . blah blah blah.
“Nana?” Still nothing. Shitfire, I was getting spooked. Why in the hell should I be nervous? I was a Vampyre for God’s sake. I was a bloodsucking fiend! Right?
Right. I was at the top of the stinkin’ food chain!
Right?
Right. I was not afraid of anybody!
Right?
Wrong! What the fu . . . ?
With the grace of a cow, I dove behind Nana’s grave into a shallow hole. I heard people walking and talking. Nobody sane should be out here at this time of night except me, and my sanity was debatable. Pam was right. I was a wimpy, pansy-ass Vampyre. Why in the hell did I think it was a good freakin’ idea to visit a graveyard in the middle of the night? Did I learn nothing from the hypnotism Vampyre fiasco? I peeked out and observed three of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen nearing my hidey-hole. Shit.
There were two women and one man. He had the finest, most asstastically perfect backside I’d ever seen in my life. I started to stand up to get a better look, but common sense prevailed and I stayed put. Thank you, Jesus. What the hell was wrong with me? An ass is an ass is an ass.
The trio stopped about six feet from where I hid. They stared at each other with a razor sharp deadly focus. It was as if invisible walls held them back from one another. They completely ignored me. Again, thank you, Jesus. Because I clearly had a death wish, I shifted ever so slightly to get a better look.
Mr. Beautiful Butt had gold eyes with shoulder length golden blonde hair to match, high sculpted cheekbones and pale flawless skin. Right out of a freakin’ romance novel. His lashes were full and long. He was tall, had a rockin’ bod, and a drool worthy ass that I couldn’t seem to rip my eyes away from. He had full kissable lips, and did I mention that his butt was insane? It was packed into some well-worn jeans with some scuffed up Doc Marten boots, topped off with a just-a-little-bit-tight black T-shirt that clung to his oh-so-muscular top half. He was simply the best looking man I’d ever seen in my entire life and I had this crazy feeling I knew him. There was no way. I would have never forgotten him if we’d met before.