Dead End Dating by Kimberly Raye Read Free Book Online

days—pre-Versace—families had hunted together in packs. But since we born vamps had come into a new enlightened era and now did dinner in a much more civilized way—bottled gourmet—we no longer risked discovery by going out and scouring the countryside for sustenance.
    Even so, that didn’t mean we should let our survival instincts get soft. At least, as far as my dad was concerned. He felt it his duty to make sure that his children were fully capable of hunting should bottling factories fall off the face of the earth and chaos reign supreme. And so he kept up the Sunday hunt tradition.
    Only now we hunted each other—the it person. The prize? Extra vacation days from Moe’s, which suited my brothers just fine. They hadn’t missed a hunt in ages. Since I wasn’t now nor had I ever been (at least not that I would admit) employed by Moe’s, I wasn’t nearly as revved about the weekly gathering. I’d rather wear a pair of jeans from Wal-Mart.
    On top of making us hunt, my dad insisted on showing us his latest golf swing.
    Forget Wal-Mart. Bring on the Goodwill.
    I crawled from beneath the covers and walked over to the window. I was about to close the blinds when I felt the strange prickling sensation that I’d felt last night.
    I stared at the alley below, my extraordinary eyesight pushing back the shadows to sweep up and down the narrow walkway. Empty except for a few garbage cans, a stray cat, and something soft and furry that I would rather not name.
    Denizen of the darkness aside, I had sort of a phobia when it came to rodents.
    I searched the area a few more seconds before shaking away the strange sensation. Punching the button on my CD player, I forwarded through the selections until Kanye West started warning the male population about gold-digging women. I hit the repeat button and set the remote control aside. The steady beat filled my small apartment and drowned out the evening news blaring from the TV next door. I danced into the kitchen, downed a full glass of blood, and then did a little ass-shaking toward the shower. Creepiness and nagging mothers aside, I was in a pretty good mood.
    A half hour later, I was dressed and ready to start my evening. The sky was a rich velvet black studded with twinkling stars, and I opted to walk rather than catch a cab.
    Along the way, I stopped off at a nearby newsstand for the latest issue of Cosmo and ducked into Starbucks. My hands were full by the time I rounded the corner and approached my office.
    Thankfully.
    Because the hunky guy who was waiting just outside the glass doorway made me want to reach out and think later.
    Much, much later.

H e was a vampire.
    That was the first thought I had when I saw the man standing in the doorway of Dead End Dating.
    Okay, so that wasn’t actually my first thought.
    Numero uno ? My lace Victoria’s Secret thong had crawled into a really high place, and I was thinking I should have used my preternatural reflexes and gone after it a block back instead of opting to wait until I reached the office.
    Thought number two?
    He was a really hot vampire.
    In a wild, primitive way. He had dark, shoulder-length hair, a strong, stubble-covered jaw, and blue eyes. Not just any old blue either. We’re talking neon blue, so bright and vivid that I could have sworn I heard them humming when they collided with mine.
    Then again, the hum could have been my deprived vampiric hormones, which have been known to kick into overdrive in the face of so much testosterone.
    This guy definitely had the whole badass cowboy thing working, from the black Stetson that sat low on his forehead and his long black leather duster, to his black jeans and faded black boots.
    Unfortunately, he wasn’t just a drop-dead gorgeous bloodsucker. He was also a made one.
    I knew that the minute my nostrils flared and the only thing I smelled was the faint hint of leather from his jacket. Nothing sweet or rich or edible, though he certainly looked all three.
    I forced