Here Comes the Vampire Read Free Page B

wanted to be committed to me which meant that he wasn’t about to deny what happened last night.
    If it had, indeed, happened.
    The doubt held on tight, refusing to let go despite the fact that Remy patted my ass as if he’d gotten to know it extremely well over the past twenty-four hours. “We’d better get going. We’ve got a plane to catch, otherwise we’ll be stuck in this godforsaken town another night.” He pushed to his feet. “You get dressed and I’ll take care of checkout. Meet me downstairs in ten.”
    I nodded and watched him leave. And then I did what any new bride would do under the circumstances—I reached for the newly opened bottle of champagne and guzzlb) ne and ed as fast as I could.

 

    CHAPTER THREE
     
    Twenty minutes and half a bottle of Cristal later, I walked out of the hotel room. While I could no longer feel my pounding head (yay), I was still fully tuned in to the guilt and angst (not so yay).
    What had I done ?
    My hands trembled as I hit the button for the elevator.
    More importantly, what was I going to do?
    The doors swished open. I stepped inside and pressed for the lobby. I needed a plan. I couldn’t just accept my new status as a committed vampire, ditch my old life and head back to Connecticut as the new Mrs. Remy Tremaine.
    At the same time, I was the new Mrs. Remy Tremaine (in the eyes of my family and every other BV on the planet). I’d said vows. I’d made a commitment. I’d stripped off my undies.
    I glanced around and a strange feeling crept over me. This was it. Ground zero. Remy and I had had hot, hunka-hunka burnin’ sex in this very elevator and sealed our fate for eternity.
    Probably.
    Maybe.
    My mind raced back through the previous night, rifling through the images, searching for the crash and burn that had doomed me to coupled bliss. Sex was numero uno to a vampire. We thrived on it. Even sloshed out of my skull, I would have remembered the good stuff. Him kissing me. Me moaning into his mouth. Him exploding inside of me. Me exploding around him. Me actually liking said explosion.
    Unless I hadn’t liked it.
    What if Remy had been a total dud and I had blocked it out on purpose because it had been too anti-climactic to even contemplate?
    “Fake it.”
    The familiar voice jarred me out of my mental interrogation. I whirled to find Mona in all her prom night glory leaning against the elevator wall. Mud smudged her left cheek and stained the neck-line of the fashion disaster she was wearing.
    “Where’s Dewey?” I eyeballed the other four feet of empty space.
    “I ditched him in the mud room. He’s probably wading through the graveyard dirt right about now.” At my surprised expression, she added, “It’s imported from one of the mass graves in Europe. Ixtab says it does wonder for the pores.” Her gaze met mine. “I hate Dewey, and I really hate that I have to spend the rest of eternity with him. Which is why I feel for you, girlfriend.” She leaned forward and her transparent finger touched the Emergency Stop button on the elevator. Cables groaned and the car came to a jarring stop.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Trying to help you. Listen,” she leveled a stare at me, “if you really want out of this marriage, you should fake it and get the hell out. He’ll probably cry a little because he thinks he failed you and he might even get mad because it’s a definite ego deflator, but then he’ll accept it, move on and bam, you’re free.”
    “Fake it?” Now there was a word that wasn’t in the BV vocabulary. We didn’t fake. We didn’t have to fake. “It’s too late for that. We already did the deed last night.”
    “I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about the big D. Death. Destruction. If you kick the bucket, it’s over, right? He can’t very well reproduce with you if you’re just a big pile of ashes.” She leaned closer and her voice lowered a notch. “There’s a guy here at the hotel who’s a hit man for some of the Vegas