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

the Egyptian cotton for a major cry fest, I pulled on an old pair of Juicy sweats and a white Hello Kitty tank top and headed back into the living room.
    I was a friggin’ vampire and vamps didn’t cry. They were strong. Fearless. Invincible. Besides, I’d pretty much exhausted the waterworks when I was in the shower. Now I just felt tired. Dead tired.
    Pun intended.
    While the average denizen of the dark is the life of the after-hours party, we pretty much poop out at the first sign of a UV ray. We need solid, uninterrupted sleep to recharge our super senses. Otherwise we get cranky. Not the flipping-off-people-on-the-subway variety. We’re talking the I-want-to-rip-apart-any-and-everyone-who-gets-in-my-way Queen of the Damned kind. Not good for a vamp who doesn’t do blood and guts very well.
    I needed to crash in a major way.
    At the same time, I’d gotten myself into a deep mess that I needed out of now , otherwise I’d be picking out His and Hers coffins with Remy.
    I stifled a yawn and headed straight for the fridge for a can of Red Bull.
    Three cans later, I was wide-eyed and ready to go. I bypassed the blinking light on my answering machine, flipped the deadbolt on the front door and headed for my make-up case and the mountain of DVDs. I popped in the first one, sank down onto the couch with Red Bull number four and set out to prove my innocence.

 
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    “Something’s wrong,” Evie declared when I walked into Dead End Dating on Monday afternoon.
    After ten hours of DVD footage, twelve Red Bulls, eight cups of coffee and a big fat nada when it came to evidence.
    “You look—“
    “Tired? Listless? Drained?”
    She eyeballed me. “Homicidal.”
    I rest my case.
    I chanced a glance in the large mirror that hung above Evie’s desk. While I had it going on in the fashionista department—crème-colored Eryn Brinie cardigan dress, gold python belt and Anya Hindmarch patent leather Faye wedges—the rest was straight out of a True Blood episode. My eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. My skin was pale despite the full tube of Shimmer & Shake Bronzer I’d slathered on after my shower. My blonde hair looked wild and uncontrollable despite two hours with a flat iron and a full tube of Straight Talk conditioner. My cheeks were hollowed out, my lips drawn, my jaw tense.
    I looked desperate.
    Depraved.
    Hungry.
    Definitely a vamp just this side of postal.
    She flashed me a knowing grin. “Shouldn’t you be glowing? Oh, no, wait. Pregnant women glow. Married women eat.”
    “I hate you.”
    “No, you don’t. You’re too nice to hate me. Besides,” she smoothed her blonde ponytail, “You know I’m just teasing you. I’ve got your back.” Excitement lit her eyes. “Even more, I’ve got the one thing that will make you feel loads better.”
    “An eye witness that Remy and I didn’t do the nasty in Vegas?”
    “Better.”
    “An eye witness that we didn’t do the nasty andDVD footage to back it up?”
    “Way better.”
    “An eye witnesdiv s that we didn’t do the nasty and DVD footage to back it up and Charlie Hunnam’s cell number?” Did I mention I was currently crushing on Jax from Sons of Anarchy ? Not that I was going to call him up because, hey, I loved Ty. But a girl needs options.
    “This is a hundred times more excellent than any of the above.” She held up a white bakery box. “I’ve got your sugar fix.”
    In addition to having great fashion sense—Evie looked office perfect in a black ruffled BCBG skirt and white silk poet’s blouse—she also had it going on in the brains department. She’d come up with the fantabulous idea of offering free coffee and all-you-can-eat donuts to anyone who filled out a profile. While I’d been skeptical, the promo had brought in close to twenty clients the first week (and a few homeless guys who slept in the alley out back) and made a believer out of me. We’d been oozing Krispy Kremes ever since.
    “I’ve got strawberry crème,