Morganville Vampires 11: Last Breath Read Free

the door.
    Oliver moved on from her to Shane, and once she’d taken a couple of deep, calming breaths, she stopped studying the kitten picture and looked over at her boyfriend. He was tense, but trying not to seem it; she could read that in the slightly pale, set face and the way his shoulders had tightened, emphasizing the muscles under his sweater. He rolled up his sleeve without a word, and Oliver—likewise silent—put the tourniquet in place and handed him another ball to squeeze. Unlike Claire, who was barely able to dent the thing, Shane almost flattened it when he pressed. His veins were visible to her even across the room, and Oliver barely skimmed fingertips over them, not meeting Shane’s eyes at all, then slipped the needle in so quickly and smoothly that Claire almost missed it. “Two pints,” he told Shane. “You’ll still be behind on your schedule, but I suppose we shouldn’t drain you much more at once.”
    “You sound disappointed.” Shane’s voice came out faint and thready, and he put his head back against the cushions as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Damn, I hate this. I really do.”
    “I know,” Oliver said. “Your blood reeks of it.”
    “If you keep that up, I’m going to punch you.” Shane said it softly, but he meant it. There was a muscle as tight as a steel cable in his jaw, and his hand pumped the rubber ball in convulsive squeezes. Oliver released the tourniquet and clamps, and Shane’s blood moved down the tube.
    “Can I specify a user for my donation?” Claire asked. That drew Oliver’s attention, and even Shane cracked an eyelid to glance at her. “Since mine’s voluntary anyway.”
    “Yes, I suppose,” Oliver said, and took out a black marker. “Name?”
    “The hospital,” she said. “For emergencies.”
    He gave her a long, measured stare, and then shrugged and put a simple cross symbol on the bag—already a quarter full—before returning it to the holder beside her chair.
    Shane opened his mouth, but Oliver said, “Don’t even consider saying it. Yours is already spoken for.”
    Shane responded to that with a gagging sound.
    “Precisely why it’s not earmarked for my account,” Oliver said. “I do have standards. Now, if either of you feel any nausea or weakness, press the button. Otherwise, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
    He rose and walked toward the door, but hesitated with his hand on the knob. He turned back to them and said, “I received the invitation.”
    For a moment, Claire didn’t know what he was talking about, but then she said, “Oh. The party.”
    “The engagement party,” he said. “You should speak with your friends about the … political situation.”
    “I—What? What are you talking about?”
    Oliver’s eyes held hers, and she was wary of some kind of vamp compulsion, but he didn’t seem to be trying at all. “I’ve already tried to warn Michael,” he said. “This is unwise. Very unwise. The vampire community in Morganville is already … restless; they feel humans have been given too much freedom, too much license, in their activities of late. There was always a clearly drawn relationship of—”
    “Serial killers and victims,” Shane put in.
    “Protector and those Protected,” Oliver said, flashing a scowl at her boyfriend. “One that is of necessity free of too much emotional complication. It’s an obligation that vampires can understand. This—connection between Michael and your human friend Eve is … raw and messy. Now that they threaten to sanction it with legal status … there is resistance. On both sides, from vampires and humans alike.”
    “Wait,” Shane said. “Are you seriously telling us that people don’t want them to get married?”
    “There is a certain sense that it is not appropriate, or wise, to allow vampire-human intermarriage.”
    “That’s racist!”
    “It has nothing to do with race,” Oliver said. “It has everything to do with species. Vampires and humans have a set