A Forever Mate: Vampire Assassin League #18 Read Free

for it. The pull of it was too strong. He’d have to go find her. Maybe even mate with her.
    And try not to hate her, too.

 

CHAPTER THREE
    There was stupid.
    And there was major stupid.
    Stupid had been when she’d swum across Rockport Reservoir during a camping trip at dusk. Without any notice to the others. She hadn’t worn a lifejacket. Or even shoes. She still remembered how it had felt to reach the middle of the reservoir and float on her back, watching the stars come out, while exhaustion weighed down every limb. She’d known stupidity then. She’d had quite a bit of time to question her intellect while the water slowly lapped inexorably toward the dam, taking her with it. She didn’t think she had the energy to continue. And she hadn’t. Except one of the smartass guys had swum up beside her and challenged her to race him...
    She rarely even thought of that episode anymore, unless it was to match it against something even more stupid.
    Like now.
    Why, oh why, had she agreed to this?
    Jill Johnson was normally level-headed. Loaded with common sense. She wasn’t at all like the rest of the group. She rarely fit in anywhere. She’d been the gawky one. The one without friends. Heck. She hadn’t even had breasts until she reached her senior year in High School, making every shower in gym class a lesson in humility. She didn’t possess much cleavage now, although the push-up bras helped. But she wasn’t interested in visiting a plastic surgeon to assist nature, like six of the other women in this group had. She couldn’t afford it. She also couldn’t afford laser surgery for her eyesight. She’d rather pay for things like rent. Utilities. Transportation. Food.
    Face it, Jill.
    She just didn’t fit in. Ever.
    The others in her art group were rich girls on a “Spring Break” vacation to Paris. Jill was an art student on a sanctioned field trip that set her back into poverty because it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity she refused to miss. She got eight days to study sculpture at the Louvre! In Paris! It was an amazing experience. She’d been happy to go back on noodles and peanut butter for this trip.
    That was before this midnight side-trip, however. She tripped on something, and caught the fall with a hand slapped against the tunnel wall. Nobody noticed. She didn’t really expect them to. They were avoiding her. She didn’t blame them. Her attitude had been going downhill for some time now.
    She wasn’t even trying to fit in.
    It was obvious even to a casual observer. She wore pleated slacks that had some give in them, a loose-fit blouse with a sweater atop it, and flat-heeled, sensible shoes. The others were sporting tight shirts, even tighter pants, and ridiculously high heels. They looked curvy and long-legged. And ridiculous. Jill snickered more than once at a stumble. Somebody was going to twist an ankle. Or worse.
    Shrieks came occasionally as hair got mussed, too. That was amusing. Her fellow students spent hours on their hair and faces every morning. They looked it. Jill rarely wore makeup and usually had her hair up in a clip. She didn’t remotely fit in with any group of gorgeous, giggling girls.
    She was probably born into the wrong century, although none of the past eras, with their lack of technology or cultural niceties like indoor plumbing appealed to her, either. And she was really fond of plastic. Without gas permeable contact lenses, she’d have been in an institute for the blind. They were really bad in dirt-filled situations, too, but she hadn’t another option. She hadn’t brought her glasses for a day trip to the museum. Unfortunately, as it was past midnight, her contacts kept reminding her that they needed lubrication. They needed to come out for the night. And dirt was everywhere in these caverns.
    Jill stopped. Flipped a contact out of her left eye, and violated several optometrist health warnings by sticking the lens in her mouth. She spent the next few seconds