Just One Bite by Kimberly Raye Read Free Book Online Page B

useless and weak and yada yada, but sometimes it feels like the right thing to do, even for a badass vampire like yours truly. Especially when I noticed the small white card tucked into the lid of the box. I pried the paper loose and unfolded it.
     
Just a little reminder of what I’m going to do to you if you don’t find me a woman…V.
     
    The reality of what I was up against hit me. I sank down onto the edge of my sofa and started to bawl.
    For myself.
    For the poor schlump who’d lost his fangs.
    For myself. Because I was going to be the next poor schlump if I didn’t find Vinnie’s soul mate in time for Mama Balducci’s birthday.
    My vision blurred. I was sniffling like crazy when I felt a brush of warmth against my ankle, followed by a soft meow.
    I wiped at my cheeks and blinked frantically. Killer’s image came into focus.
    He wasn’t the most attractive cat (I’d rescued him from an alley and certain death at the hands of a rat the size of King Kong). He was brown and white, and still a little on the thin side, but I’d spruced him up with a silver collar and a white rhinestone tee that read THE KING HAS ENTERED THE BUILDING .
    Instantly, my fear multiplied when I thought of Vinnie planting the box outside my door with Killer mere inches away. If the guy could dismember a were bear and rip the teeth off a vampire without one iota of conscience, imagine what he could do to a poor, helpless kitty.
    Killer narrowed his bright green eyes, his message loud and clear. Enough with the blubbering, already. I’d like to eat sometime before global warming ends and we plunge into the next ice age.
    Make that a snotty, pretentious, smart-ass kitty.
    “I’m this close to losing my fangs. I could use a little compassion, here.”
    Compassion’s for wussies. What you need is a baseball bat. Or better yet, a Glock. Cap a few in his ass and you’re home free.
    Yeah, right. I so didn’t do death and destruction all that well. A gun was definitely out.
    As for the bat…
    I made a mental note to hit the local sporting goods store first thing next afternoon. In the meantime, I pushed to my feet and stashed the Tiffany box in the back of my closet until I could give it a proper burial.
    A few minutes later (after searching the apartment for more body parts and double-checking the chair in front of the door), detoured off the panic highway and U-turned back to normal.
    Alicia Keys drifted from my iPod docking station. The scent of my favorite Bundt Cake candle sweetened the air. I changed into pink Juicy sweats and headed for the pantry.
    I’d just reached for a can of Kitty Cuisine when a strange sense of awareness crawled through me. I knew then, even before I heard the slow creak of wood and the tremble of hinges, that someone was trying to get into my apartment.
    And with the sucky way my night was going, I felt pretty damned certain that it wasn’t Colin Farrel.

Seven

    E very muscle in my body went tight. My heart stalled and my survival instincts fired to life (I had poor, defenseless Killer to protect, not to mention a closetful of designer couture).
    In the blink of an eye, I morphed into killer-bitch mode and rounded the corner, fangs bared. The living room appeared empty, but the door stood wide open. The chair sat off to the side. My mind raced back to the present that had been sitting on my doorstep.
    “You don’t have to leave me any more surprises,” I called out. “I get it. You’re the biggest, baddest SOB in New York.”
    “Nice to see you, too.”
    The deep, familiar voice rumbled through my head and relief washed through me, followed by a wave of anger. I shifted from killer bitch to irritated bitch and turned on the made vampire who stood directly behind me.
    I gave him my best glare.
    At least, I meant to glare. But then Ty Bonner came into my line of vision and suddenly the only thing I could do was gaze.
    While I’d thought about him more than once over the past several weeks since our