Here Comes the Vampire by Kimberly Raye Read Free Book Online Page A

--complete with a half page ad for Pump it Up, the latest and greatest in male enhancement products--I let myself in and headed up the five flights of stairs to my floor.
    It was a quarter ‘til five in the morning and most everyone was still asleep. With the exception of my neighbor who lived across the hall. She was an accountant who loved Thai Food, perfume knock-offs and early-morning spreadsheets. The scent of Ed Hardley (no, it’s not a spelling mistake) surrounded me as I headed down the long corridor. The sound of a coffee machine gurgled in my ears, followed by the excited tap tap tap of fingers on a keyboard.
    What’d I tell ya?
    I reached my Life is a Luau doormat and slid my key into the lock. The knob clicked, the door opened and I walked inside. Nothing had changed since I’d left it three days ago. Two empty Barney bags still sat center stage (I’d made a few last minute purchases for the Vegas trip), along with a pile of clothes that hadn’t made it into the three suitcases I’d taken with me. The sight was both a bummer and a relief. A bummer because it meant that Ty was still out of town on his case and a relief because hey, Ty was still out of town on his case.
    Meaning I still had time to figure a way out of my current predicament before he got back.
    Meaning maybe , hopefully, I might not have to bore him with the details of how I’d gotten shit-faced and pledged my after-life to Remy.
    I held tight to the hope, kicked off my shoes and drank in the scent of Chanel and kitty litter. Did I mention that I have a cat?
    That’s English for obnoxious, uppity pain-in-the-ass.
    I’d found Killer in an alley and done my civic duty by bringing him home instead of contributing to the city’s rodent infestation by feeding him to an already gonzo-sized sewer rat.
    A choice I’d regretted on numerous occasions because he a)had more attitude than Kanye at an awards show and b) routinely yakked all over various wardrobe pieces—especially footwear--just to piss me off.
    I’d left him with Mrs. Janske aka the Cat lady who lived downstairs. She had a houseful of her own “babies” and could always be persuaded to open her heart to one more of God’s precious creatures.
    I’d had to bribe her to get her to take Killer.
    His image flashed in my head and I had the sudden urge to race downstairs and pick him up. Not that I missed him. It’s just that my database wasn’t exactly overflowing with fifty-something Garfield addicts and I’d promised Mrs. Janske a free Dead End Dating hook-up with the cat lover of her dreams. And a super-sized bag of catnip, two cases of Kitty Cuisine and a month’s supply of kitty litter.
    But she was probably still asleep and I couldn’t afford to waste even a minute. I needed to watch those DVDs. That, and I didn’t feel like putting away my shoes.
    I left my bags in the living room and headed into the bathroom. Pulling the dreaded commitment vial from around my neck, I stifled a shiver and stuffed it into a drawer. I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the shower. Hot water blasted over me and for the next few minutes, I actually managed to forget about the past twenty-four hours. Instead I thought about Ty and the way he’d kissed me before I’d boarded the plane for Vegas and he’d headed off to Chicago in hot pursuit of his next bounty.
    FYI—the vamp had mad skills when it came to sucking face. He didn’t gobble-you-up like some guys. He knew how to use his lips. His tongue. A little nibble here. A little stroke there. More nibbling. More stroking. Some impressive hand action to make things really interesting.
    My mind stalled on the interesting part as I grabbed the soap and lathered up. Thanks to a cheap landlord and an ancient hot water heater, the fun.
    The drinking.
    The wedding chapel.
    The elevator.
    Ugh.
    I rinsed off, killed the water and yanked the shower curtain aside. Grabbing a towel, I headed for the bedroom. Rather than throw myself face down on