The Single Undead Moms Club (Half Moon Hollow series Book 4) by Molly Harper Read Free Book Online

and then consider how you want to spend it. Because, unlike how it is for most people, time is something we have in unlimited supply. Look, it’s all manageable,” she told me. “OK, sure, the first night I was turned, I tried to attack my best friend. But I’d shrugged off my sire and didn’t have any guidance. I didn’t even try to dull my thirst. You’re preparing. And preparing is half the battle.”
    Jane walked up behind me and placed a firm, cool hand on my shoulder. “You’re going to be OK,” she told me, her voice so quiet that even my superhuman ears strained to hear it. “You’re going to be strong. You’re going to welcome your little boy home, listen to his stories, put him in a bath, and tuck him in for bed. You are more than your thirst. You are a mother first, and then a vampire.” Jane jerked her head toward the door. “Come on.”
    “What?” I huffed as she led me out onto the front porch.
    “I’ve been so focused on keeping you contained for our conditioning that I’ve denied you an important rite for any newborn vampire,” she said, slipping out of her wedge sandals. I followed her, already barefoot, onto the grass.
    “You’re looking at the world with brand-new eyes,” she said. “You can feel every blade of grass against the soles of your feet. Listen to the wind rustling through every leaf on every tree. Listen to the heartbeats of the animals in the woods. Look up at the sky.”
    “Trust me, Jane. I’ve done the ‘new senses’ appreciation bit. I haven’t stared at the craters in the moon so hard since I tried that special brownie for the chemo side effects.”
    “Can you just let me have a surrogate-sire moment here?” she grumbled.
    “Sorry.”
    “Now, I want you to bend your knees, dig your toes down in the grass.”
    I bent, prepared for some sort of tai chi meditation technique that would help me stop having such a histrionic reaction to every damn thing. “OK.”
    “Now, jump,” Jane told me.
    “What?”
    “Jump.”
    Frowning, I pushed up from the ground with my feet . . . and jetted fifteen feet into the air. I shrieked, flailing all the way down to the ground. I landed on my ass with a hard thunk .
    “What the hell was that?” I cried, splayed out on the grass.
    “Vampire vertical leap,” Jane said. “Go on, have some fun.”
    “You’re not going to tag me or put some sort of tether on me?” I asked.
    “Do you plan on running away?”
    “No.”
    “OK, then, go run.”
    Unsure of whether this was some sort of trick, I bent at the knees again and leaped. I was a bit more prepared for the sudden change in altitude and landed with some grace about ten feet away from Jane. She gave me an amused little wave and sat on my porch step.
    I leaped again, taking off at a full run for the swing set I’d built for Danny when he was three. I ran straight up his slide, jumped nimbly onto the top bar, and with perfect balance walked across the length without stepping on a single swing bolt. I stopped at the end and, praying that my vampire bones would heal quickly if necessary, jumped off the swing set with a flip and a twist.
    Landing on both feet and raising both arms in a gymnast’s “I stuck it” gesture, I laughed aloud. I hadn’t felt like walking the length of the driveway in months, much less running laps around my yard for the pure joy of being able to move so freely. I jumped. I flipped. I did a back handspring that ended in a disastrous face-plant, but without emergency-room bills to worry about, it didn’t bother me to watch the bones in my wrist reset on their own. After almost an hour, I jogged back up the porch steps to join Jane, who handed me a mug of warmed blood.
    “Feel better now?” she asked.
    “That was pretty awesome,” I conceded.
    “No more freak-outs?”
    “No more freak-outs,” I promised.
    “Good. Now, get your stuff together, because your in-laws’ truck is coming down the road.”
    A few seconds later, Les and