The Fangover Read Free

his head on an amp and he was unconscious. This had to be a dream. Well, a nightmare and a dream. Johnny was gone. Dead. Stella wanted to kiss him. The whole world had tilted on its side.
    None of this could be real.
    Only he hadn’t gone to work since it was Monday and their night off from playing on Bourbon Street.
    He didn’t think he was dreaming.
    And if he thought about it too much, his head might actually explode, so he decided not to think at all. He was just going to obey.
    Kiss her. He could do that.
    He leaned down, eyeing her small lips with a predatory satisfaction. He’d been waiting forty years for a crack at her mouth.
    Stella wasn’t really sure why she had asked Wyatt to kiss her. It was just that she felt so lonely, so shocked, so horrified. So drunk.
    Her brother was dead. After eighty-five years of hanging out undead together, her taking care of him, suddenly he was gone. Just gone. He was never supposed to be gone. They were going to live forever. But he hadn’t. She couldn’t comprehend it. She couldn’t think about it. At all.
    Wyatt was looking at her with such compassion, his muscular body close to hers as he brushed her hair back off her head. Stella had never really thought of him as much more than a slightly less annoying version of her brother. But now he looked like a perfect way to ignore what was really happening.
    Plus, she was drunk.
    It had been years since she’d tossed back that many shots in such a short amount of time. In combination with her shock, it had gone straight to her head. Why that meant she would ask Wyatt to kiss her, she wasn’t sure. But she had, and he was clearly going to oblige her, and that seemed like it all made sense to her.
    She’d never noticed how intense his eyes could be. Or how perfectly pristine his fangs were.
    His fangs were out.
    That meant he was aroused.
    By the mere idea of kissing her.
    Which aroused Stella.
    Wyatt was a good-looking guy. He had caramel-colored hair that skimmed his shoulders and a seductive mouth. Which was now on hers, kissing her with more finesse than she would have thought possible. Wyatt and Johnny had been two vampiric peas in an undead pod. Both jokesters, both happy-go-lucky, though truthfully, Wyatt was way more thoughtful and far less selfish than Johnny. She’d never thought of Wyatt as being a ladies’ man either, like her brother had been, though how Johnny had ever managed that was still a mystery to Stella.
    Yet for never having a girlfriend that she could remember, Wyatt sure in the hell knew how to kiss. His lips were taking skilled possession of hers, warm and confident. It was the kind of kiss that made you want to keep kissing, for hours and hours or until you were naked, whichever came first. Stella gave a soft moan and opened her mouth.
    But Wyatt pulled back. “That better?”
    Yes and no. She nodded. “Do it again.”
    He hesitated. “Are you sure?”
    Instead of arguing with him, Stella just went up on her tiptoes, buried her fingers in his hair, and went at his mouth with her own. She was definitely not as smooth in her moves as he had been but it was effective. Within seconds, his tongue was sliding between her lips and tangling with hers. A sharp kick of lust between her thighs had her running her fingers over his hard chest and down to cup his suddenly obvious and quite impressive erection.
    He tore his mouth off of hers, breathing hard. “Stella.”
    “What?” She bent over and unzipped him, drawing that hard length out of his jeans.
    “What are you doing?”
    Forgetting. Distracting herself. Trying to feel alive, when for the first time in eight decades, she felt the weight of mortality. In a hazy fog of alcohol and grief, desire sliced through the murkiness and gave her something to hold on to.
    Her nipples beaded as she enclosed her mouth around his swollen cock. She figured that was a good enough answer to his question.
    “Holy shit. Ahh.” His words were strangled, and he gripped