Broken Heart 02 Don't Talk Back to Your Vampire Read Online Free
Author: Michele Bardsley
Monster Mash" just to annoy me. As for Mortie, he'd Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
returned to his wife in London and left my vampire lessons to the other Masters who'd decided to stick it out in Broken Heart.
After we got all the vampire stuff straightened out, the Consortium revealed it had been buying out residences and businesses in Broken Heart. It wanted to build the first-ever paranormal community in the United States. Over the summer, nearly all the human residents had moved out. The town was practically empty, its buildings under constant demolition and construction.
Turning into a vampire had rid me of cellulite, acne scars, and crow's-feet. Yet other things had been taken away, too—sunrise and road trips and ice cream (oh, the joy of a Ben & Jerry's pint!).
My mind drifted back to the dream. Why was I associating the wolf with Lorcan? Because I feared him?
Because I wanted him, but I was scared to want him? Finding a bed in a tower—a phallic symbol for sure—seemed rife with sexual imagery.
Having sexual relations was a serious business for us vampires. If we fed and did the mattress mambo, we were linked to the person of our affection for the next century. Needless to say, most of us were real discriminating about our love lives. Hmm. Maybe my subconscious was just working out my sexual frustration with the only man who'd shared my bed in more than a year. Granted, he'd only held me, not tried anything naughty (was that a sliver of regret wedged in my relief?), but still… Lorcan was hot.
Movie-star hot. The kind of hot a woman like me viewed at a distance, wanting and wanting but never in a million years actually getting.
Oh, what did it matter? I had no intention of binding with anyone ever. Falling in love for me was like unwrapping a mystery candy. I wanted chocolate, but I always got licorice.
Still, it was hard to forget those eyes, that wild hair, that muscled chest. Poor, poor sexually repressed me. I thought about all the blood and mud I had wiped off. Why had Lorcan been attacked? Fear ghosted along my spine. We had problems with a group of vampires called the Wraiths. They were a nasty bunch, but they'd been routed out of Broken Heart a couple months back. I shuddered to think they or their vamp/lycan abominations were running around the town again.
"Hey, Mom," Tamara called down. "Your breakfast is here."
"Share your pancakes with Charlie," I said.
If I couldn't indulge in real carbs, I could at least get the faint taste of syrup-drizzled pancakes in liquid form. Charlie was one of my two favorite donors. Donors were humans who were paid to be vampire meals—courtesy of the Consortium. Most vampires needed only a pint an evening to survive.
Charlie was a nice guy, though a little on the shy side. He was smart and loved books; we got along well because my most favorite thing in the world, other than my daughter, was reading.
I took a quick shower in the private bathroom (courtesy of the Consortium) and drew on a pair of black capris and a beaded white halter top, both new purchases thanks to a cyber-shopping trip. My friend Jessica and my daughter sat at the computer with me and helped me (read: chose for me) buy clothing I probably wouldn't have bought given my druthers.
A couple weeks ago, after assessing my favorite pair of gray sweats and baggy T-shirt, Jessica insisted that my "librarian frump look" had to go. The thing about Jessica was that she had a heart—and a mouth—as big as Texas. You never asked Jessica for her opinion unless you really wanted it.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
My purchases arrived yesterday, and this was my first foray into my new look, which Tamara had termed "sexy mama." I wasn't quite sure if that was better than "librarian frump." But I didn't have a choice about my attire, since all of my old clothes had disappeared.
Last night, Jessica hauled me
returned to his wife in London and left my vampire lessons to the other Masters who'd decided to stick it out in Broken Heart.
After we got all the vampire stuff straightened out, the Consortium revealed it had been buying out residences and businesses in Broken Heart. It wanted to build the first-ever paranormal community in the United States. Over the summer, nearly all the human residents had moved out. The town was practically empty, its buildings under constant demolition and construction.
Turning into a vampire had rid me of cellulite, acne scars, and crow's-feet. Yet other things had been taken away, too—sunrise and road trips and ice cream (oh, the joy of a Ben & Jerry's pint!).
My mind drifted back to the dream. Why was I associating the wolf with Lorcan? Because I feared him?
Because I wanted him, but I was scared to want him? Finding a bed in a tower—a phallic symbol for sure—seemed rife with sexual imagery.
Having sexual relations was a serious business for us vampires. If we fed and did the mattress mambo, we were linked to the person of our affection for the next century. Needless to say, most of us were real discriminating about our love lives. Hmm. Maybe my subconscious was just working out my sexual frustration with the only man who'd shared my bed in more than a year. Granted, he'd only held me, not tried anything naughty (was that a sliver of regret wedged in my relief?), but still… Lorcan was hot.
Movie-star hot. The kind of hot a woman like me viewed at a distance, wanting and wanting but never in a million years actually getting.
Oh, what did it matter? I had no intention of binding with anyone ever. Falling in love for me was like unwrapping a mystery candy. I wanted chocolate, but I always got licorice.
Still, it was hard to forget those eyes, that wild hair, that muscled chest. Poor, poor sexually repressed me. I thought about all the blood and mud I had wiped off. Why had Lorcan been attacked? Fear ghosted along my spine. We had problems with a group of vampires called the Wraiths. They were a nasty bunch, but they'd been routed out of Broken Heart a couple months back. I shuddered to think they or their vamp/lycan abominations were running around the town again.
"Hey, Mom," Tamara called down. "Your breakfast is here."
"Share your pancakes with Charlie," I said.
If I couldn't indulge in real carbs, I could at least get the faint taste of syrup-drizzled pancakes in liquid form. Charlie was one of my two favorite donors. Donors were humans who were paid to be vampire meals—courtesy of the Consortium. Most vampires needed only a pint an evening to survive.
Charlie was a nice guy, though a little on the shy side. He was smart and loved books; we got along well because my most favorite thing in the world, other than my daughter, was reading.
I took a quick shower in the private bathroom (courtesy of the Consortium) and drew on a pair of black capris and a beaded white halter top, both new purchases thanks to a cyber-shopping trip. My friend Jessica and my daughter sat at the computer with me and helped me (read: chose for me) buy clothing I probably wouldn't have bought given my druthers.
A couple weeks ago, after assessing my favorite pair of gray sweats and baggy T-shirt, Jessica insisted that my "librarian frump look" had to go. The thing about Jessica was that she had a heart—and a mouth—as big as Texas. You never asked Jessica for her opinion unless you really wanted it.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
My purchases arrived yesterday, and this was my first foray into my new look, which Tamara had termed "sexy mama." I wasn't quite sure if that was better than "librarian frump." But I didn't have a choice about my attire, since all of my old clothes had disappeared.
Last night, Jessica hauled me
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