Chapter One
Leiper’s Fork, Tennessee. Five days earlier.
From the comfort of Stark’s antique-filled mansion, I rolled over in bed and beamed into his sultry, pale blue eyes, my chest heaving with postcoital exertion.
His long dark hair shined like glossy strands of midnight against the crisp white pillowcase. In the background, the glowing embers in the stone fireplace gave his bedroom a velvety feel that cocooned us in the moment.
Dang it, he’s so beautiful. I sighed with a contentment that plucked at my heartstrings. Had I known that sex could be (sigh…) so soul-consuming, leaving me raw and vulnerable in the best kind of way, I wouldn’t have waited my entire life to give it a whirl.
Though, on second thought, I doubted any of the men I’d come across during my twenty-seven years of life could butter my biscuits the way Stark did.
This vampire knew what he was doing—when to linger and when to pump those narrow hips.
Even his breathing felt like a sexy slow dance: a deep guttural groan to let me know he was losing his mind with pleasure, followed by the softest breath on the crook of my neck to keep me in the moment, experiencing every touch, every beat of his heart (yes, heart!), and every spike of pleasure.
In bed, he was in total control, but that control was for my pleasure.
“If you continue sighing like that,” Stark said in a smooth, deep voice, “I will be forced to make love to you again.”
A shamelessly goofy smile popped onto my swollen lips. “Welp, Stark, no one ever said I’d be easy to please.”
He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at me. “You are a demanding little vampire. This pleases me.”
Vampire. The word bounced around in my head like a pinball going nowhere. Was I really one of them now?
I still felt just as human as I had on my last day alive, when Stark’s brother, Lazlo, and Lazlo’s evil sidekick Fiona took my life in the parking lot behind the Flaming Rooster—my family’s bar, which I now owned.
Next door to that was the distillery where we made award-winning Tennessee whiskey.
It was a great life that I’d worked hard for, and that night, I’d thought I was done for.
Until I woke up.
Two days ago.
As a vampire.
“You look uneasy. What is the matter?” Stark asked.
“I know you said it’ll take some gettin’ used to, but shouldn’t I have super-hearing or super-smell or something vampiry?” My stomach grumbled.
“You have super-hunger. Shall I bring you the drink?”
The drink. Earlier, he’d offered me a concoction he called “moonshine” in a brown glass bottle, and I’d turned it down. He claimed it was an ancient herbal elixir with a small amount of human blood to ease my discomfort during the transformation.
“No, thanks,” I said once again. The thought of drinking vein-juice just didn’t sit well, though, according to Stark, I’d already had some. He said he’d fed it to me while I’d been unconscious to complete my transformation to vampire.
I didn’t remember any of it. Fine by me, because this whole vampire thing had been foisted on my life.
The truth was, I loved being human. I loved a slow sunrise and lazy afternoons.
I loved soft worn sweatpants on a chilly winter day.
I loved going to the farmer’s market on Saturday morning to buy fresh-baked bread, homemade jam, or a bouquet of sunflowers.
I loved long walks down by the creek where my older sister, Maybell, and I used to sunbathe when we were teenagers.
There were thousands of things I would miss about being human, but I’d miss the simple, everyday moments most.
Damn that Lazlo! Why’d he have to go and kill me like that? All because I’d rejected him. Okay, and lit him on fire and left him for dead. But he’d had it comin’. I swear he did! Long story.
Stark rose from bed, flashing his round hard ass as he strolled across the bedroom to a minifridge concealed within his built-in bookshelves.
He must’ve had over a thousand old books in this room, along with an assortment of dramatic paintings depicting angels and demons duking it out.
They looked expensive, but that was Stark.
He loved collecting old things with his piles of cash.
Not that I’d ever seen his money, but clearly the man knew how to invest and stay rich.
Of course, his money wasn’t what interested me.
Sex GOAT. I sighed again, unable to get enough of his broad shoulders, muscled arms, and the generous summer sausage between his powerful thighs. Stark is one manly specimen. Maybe this vampire situation wasn’t all that bad?
Stark returned with the brown glass bottle. “Drink, Masie. You must nourish yourself.”
I sat up, hugging the crisp white sheet to my bare breasts.
Not sure why I bothered with the modesty since he’d been on all the rides at the Masie county fair: the tittie-whirl, the Masie-go-round, and the bottoms up.
We’d done everything except the ring toss because no man had any business hitching to my wagon.
I eyed the bottle skeptically. “I don’t know, Stark. Your moonshine just doesn’t sound appetizing.” Herbs and blood? “How about some more wine?” I glanced at the empty bottle of Chateau Meeso Hoeney on the nightstand. We’d drunk it last night before making love in front of the fireplace.
“You are a vampire now, and while you can consume wine, it will not sate you. This is what you need.” He held up the moonshine.
“Then why am I hankering for pizza?” Extra cheese. Hot and bubbly.
My stomach groaned loudly.
He raised a brow.
“Sorry. Can’t help it.” I shrugged.
He set the moonshine on the antique nightstand and sat next to me, brushing back a stray lock of my long hair—black just like Mamma and Maybell.
We all had the same espresso-colored eyes, too.
My friends at the Rooster liked to tease me and say I looked like a cross between Penelope Cruz and Dolly Parton on account of my generous lady melons.
“For some vampires,” he said firmly, “the mind takes months to accept the change. In the meantime, you must follow my rules, or you will become very sick.”
But I wasn’t ready to take the next step of knowingly drinking blood. Maybe because I kept hoping for a miracle that would return me back to human.
“How sick?” I asked.
“Dead sick.”
“Aren’t I dead already?”
“We both know the dead do not speak, laugh, and…” he bent his head and kissed me with a sweeping tongue, “make love like a frisky ferret.”
“Hey now!” I smacked his beefy arm, which was tattooed with vines and odd symbols—like charms on a bracelet—snaking up from his wrist to his shoulder.
The other arm was the same. He still wouldn’t tell me what the designs meant, which made me think the answer was unpleasant.
“Don’t make fun of my sex noises!” And for the record, it had been more of a shriek, like a fan belt slipping. Eeeee…
“Who could make fun of those?” He grinned, flashing a bit of fang and two small dimples hiding beneath his dark stubble.
“In my defense, I’ve never felt anything that incredible.”
“Of course you haven’t,” he said arrogantly, trailing his fingertip over my jawline. “It took five centuries of practice to refine such skills in the bedroom.”
I didn’t like thinking about his age, but I hated thinking about all the women he must’ve gone through over the years.
A girl like me, who’d only had one lover—him—used to dream about my “one true love.” You know, eyes locking across a crowded room, and your heart just knowing you were meant to be.
Kind of like Cinderella. My first encounter with Stark had been more like Little Red Riding Hood.
I guessed I got my fairytale after all. Just not the one I’d expected.
He went on, “But let us not become sidetracked by my endless masterful tricks in the bedroom. Masie, you must drink—”
“Well, now you’ve got me all curious because I’ve only seen a handful of your tricks. What’re you holdin’ back?”
“If you wish to find out, you will do as I ask and drink,” he growled, grabbing the bottle and placing it in my hand.
He wanted to play it that way, huh? Well, I could fight dirty, too.
I gazed into Stark’s now moss-green eyes, preparing to say that he couldn’t have me again until he stopped pushing the moonshine, but the intense look on his face caught my attention.
It reminded me of the night we’d met, when I’d been waiting tables at the Flaming Rooster.
Stark came in, drawn to my scent because it reminded him of his first love, Anna.
Queen Anna. If only I’d known what was to come next.
So many sad, terrible things, like my friend Deedee being murdered right outside the Rooster and her attacker coming after me, too.
I’d fought for my life that night and would’ve died if Stark hadn’t shown up.
Bottom line: I was sitting here, alive-ish, because of him.
My stubbornness took a small step back, making way for more serious thoughts. “Tell me the truth. Is there any possibility I’ll turn back?” Seemed a little unfair to have gone through so much to stay alive, only to end up like this.
“One cannot be un-vampired, Masie. It is a one-way ride. Now drink,” he ordered.
“Just-just gimme a sec, okay? I’m not ready.” My insides were turning into knots.
“Becoming a vampire is like parenthood. No one is ever ready,” he argued.
How would he know?
Stark added sternly, “The sooner you accept the situation, the easier it will be to shepherd you through the transition.”
“Okay, but you’re not helping with that tone.” It was making me feel cornered instead of strong and calm, ready for the leap.