Just One Bite (15 page)

Jacqueline Marchette looked as immaculate as ever in a gold Bill Blass wrap dress that accented her tall, svelte figure. She wore her long dark hair in a chic French braid. Her rich brown eyes were fringed with long, thick lashes. She had a perfect nose and high sculpted cheekbones. A shimmering cocoa gloss accented her full lips. The rich, sweet scent of cherries jubilee clung to her, along with a cloud of expensive perfume.

“
Everyone
meaning you and Dad and Max, right? Rob’s not here.” Otherwise she would be clutching a glass of vodka and oozing disapproval instead of staring at me as if the fate of the born-vamp nation rested solely on my shoulders.

“He’s here.” She motioned me in. “And Nina, too.”

“But they just got here, right?” Meaning they hadn’t had time to break the good news.

“No, they’ve been here awhile. In fact, Rob’s been putting with your father for the past half hour.”

“They’re obviously waiting for the right moment to tell you.”

“Tell me what? That they’re moving in together?”

“They’re moving in—wait a second. You know?”

“Of course I know, dear. Rob announced it the second he walked in.”

“And?”

“And I’m sure they’ll get along fabulously until the newness wears off.” She waved a hand. “Then, of course, he’ll break up with her and move on to the next one like he usually does because he’s much too young to settle down right now.” She nailed me with a gaze. “As for you and Remy…the two of you practically scream eternity.” She smiled. “Come.” She motioned me through the foyer toward the main room. “Your father and I are trying something new tonight to spice up the hunt.”

My panic went on hold at the possibility of padding my padless bank account. “Dad’s giving away money instead of vacation days?”

“Nonsense. Your father’s much too tight for that.” Excitement gleamed in her eyes. “This is much better.”

“Dad volunteered to be
it
?”
It
was the one who wore the whistle and risked massive shoe damage while fleeing a handful of vacation-hungry vampires. We usually drew randomly, and I was notorious for picking the short straw. “We don’t have to actually draw?”

“Nonsense. Your father hates being
it.
” Excitement flashed in her gaze. “This is even better.”

My heart pounded faster. “We’re giving up the real thing and doing a simulated hunt on Dad’s Xbox?”

“Better.”

What could be better than sitting comfortably in the living room rather than traipsing through the woods in a pair of Armani flats?

“Couples hunting,” she announced.

My stomach dropped to my knees. “Couples?”

She nodded. “As in your father and I as one team. Max will pair up with some human woman he brought—they met on the Internet. Rob gets Nina. And you”—her eyes twinkled—“get Remy.” Her glossed lips spread into a wide smile. “Isn’t it ingenious?”

“I…” My words got caught in the sudden lump that formed in my throat.

“Just think,” she went on. “You won’t have to wait until after the hunt to spend some time together. You can start right now.”

Oh goody.

Fifteen

“N
ice night,” Remy commented a half hour later.

We sat—or hid, rather—in the pool house, waiting for the whistle to sound. Which meant we couldn’t actually see said night firsthand.

Not that it mattered.

I knew he was just trying to make conversation to fill the awkward silence that had settled around us.

“A really nice night,” I added.

“A really,
really
nice night.” He wore a dark gray long-sleeved henley that clung to his broad shoulders and outlined his muscular chest. Faded jeans accented his long legs. He had short, whiskey-colored hair with white-gold streaks and the greenest eyes I’d ever seen.

When we were kids, I’d envied the sun-kissed look of his golden locks. Then he’d shoved a spider down my dress and I’d started to wish with all of my undead heart that the earth would open up and swallow him whole. That, or he’d be struck by a bolt of lightning or staked by vampire killers or guillotined by French extremists.

He’d been such a pain.

“The weather’s been great,” he commented.

“Really great.” I strained my super-vamp ears, searching for some sign that the agony would soon end.

How long could Max and his Internet bimbo (tonight’s
it
couple) actually outrun everyone? See, the
it
person took the lead and got a full minute’s head start. Whoever caught him first and got close enough to blow the whistle around his neck won. Being saddled with Delicious Delilah (I swear I’m not making this up), Max wouldn’t be half as fast as usual. Talk about an easy target.

While my dad wasn’t half the hunter he’d once been (not that he would ever admit it), he had my mom to help out. She could definitely kick ass.

Then again, the ass in question belonged to the oldest and dearest fruit of her womb (her words, not mine). Not to mention the whole point of couples hunting was to give Remy and me some time together as a—you guessed it—couple.

My mother was undoubtedly doing her damnedest to stall.

Which left Nina and Rob. The best of the best. Rob had already won oodles of times and Nina, well, if she went after that silly whistle with the same tenacity she hunted down a Fendi original, Remy and I would be out of here in no time.

Unless Nina and Rob weren’t actually hunting.

Sure, they were both bloodthirsty and extremely cunning. But they were also as horny as two werewolves during a full moon.

With my rotten luck, they were probably boffing upstairs at that very moment.

My ears prickled and, sure enough, I heard the distinct squeak of mattress springs followed by Nina’s high-pitched voice:
“Who’s Your Vampire?”

“I heard it might rain this weekend.” Remy’s deep voice pulled me back to the pool house and the thick tension.

“Bummer.”

“Not that it’s a given. Those guys from Channel 5 are always getting it wrong.”

“Way wrong.”

The minutes ticked by and Remy went on about the weather. And unreliable meteorologists. And how the Fairfield PD required its street officers to wear rain ponchos as a preventative measure against pneumonia.

I know, right?

If he started talking about the Mets, I was
so
going to throw myself on the nearest umbrella pole.

“So how about those Giants?”

Close enough. I pushed to my feet. My gaze darted frantically for a long, pointy escape.

“It’s not over, is it?” He stood and eyed the door. “Did you hear the whistle?”

If only.

My gaze went to the stack of floats that covered one wall. A pile of extra pool chairs cluttered the far corner. The tiny interior was packed with everything from the chaise lounges where we sat to a small minifridge, extra pool-cleaning equipment, a floating bar, several volleyballs, and even a spare net, but not one stinking umbrella pole.

“Look.” I gave up the self-destructive thoughts and went for Plan B—spilling my guts. “I know I agreed to this date, but I only did it because my mother’s bugging the hell out of Jack and Mandy and I wanted to distract her so they could finish up their honeymoon in peace. Not that I don’t like you. I do. You’re a great vampire.”
The perfect vampire,
a small voice reminded me. “But I just don’t see a future for us as anything other than good friends.”

He went silent for a long moment. “Can’t forget me in the tights and knickers, can you?” he finally asked, his green eyes glittering down at me.

A mental picture stirred and a smile tugged at my lips. “Actually, those were kind of cute.”

“Huh?”

Yeah, huh?
“Not that they weren’t pretty awful back then. But in retrospect they don’t seem all that horrific. Not compared to the marbles.” Memories rushed at me. “I’ll never forget that time you went up against Jean Michel Gustave for the record. He managed four in each nostril.”

“While I did an impressive five.” He shook his head. “What the hell was I thinking?”

“You weren’t thinking. You were seven.”

He grinned, a slash of dazzling white in the dim light. “I got into so much trouble when my mother found out. She made me clean out the stables for two solid months.”

“No wonder you smelled so funny back then.” Not that he smelled funny now. The faint scent of expensive cologne and virile male teased my senses and I caught myself drinking in a deep breath.

“Do you remember that time you chased me with the spider?” I blurted, suddenly eager to recount all the reasons why I didn’t like Remy Tremaine. “You tried to set that skunk on fire and I threatened to tell your
maman,
and then it was all-out war.”

“Ahhh, my pyro phase. Which came after the marble phase. Which came after the torture-innocent-villagers phase.”

“You never tortured any innocent villagers. Did you?” I prayed for a great big
yes.
Anything to douse the sudden rush of heat skimming my bare skin.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say
torture.
Annoyed was more like it. I stole chickens and hid eggs and I even stole Madame Giselle’s wooden teeth.”

“You did not?!”

“I did.” He shook his head. “She was so pissed, she chased me half a mile with a broom. Who knew the old woman could run that fast? Of course, that was nothing compared to the skunk. I barely got within two feet of that damned animal before he sprayed me. I haven’t set anything on fire since.”

I wanted to argue with him. As he stood there staring down at me with his bright green eyes, I felt a spark in the pit of my stomach, followed by a rush of warmth.

Hunger. Obviously. The hunt was taking forever and I’d only had one glass of blood before leaving the house and, well, a girl’s gotta eat, right?

No wonder my heart was pounding and my skin was tingling and my nipples were quivering and—

Wait. Back the freakin’ coffin up.

No way should my nipples be involved if I was
just
hungry. Heart, yes. Skin, perhaps. I might even have a few knee tremors or some lightheadedness. But nipples didn’t come into play unless…

Nah. We’re talking
Remy.

Even as I told myself that, I did a quick inventory to assess the current state of my über-hot bod.

Pounding heart?
Check.

Tingling skin?
Check.

Knee tremors?
Check.

Lightheadedness?
Check.

Quivering nipples?

Uh-oh.

Realization struck and I did the first thing that came to mind (okay, the second thing, because I was NOT jumping his bones, no matter how much I suddenly wanted to).

I stuck both fingers into my mouth and let loose a loud, earsplitting whistle.

Game
over.

“Where’s Max?” my mother asked several minutes later when she and my dad emerged from the trees. They crossed the immaculate lawn and joined Remy and me on the veranda.

I shrugged and tried not to look guilty. “He, um, got away.”

“He
what
?”

“He took off running.” I pointed to the left and then sort of swept my hand in a vague circular motion. “That way.”

“But he’s not supposed to run once the whistle blows,” my dad pointed out. “That signals that the hunt is over.”

“That’s right,” my mother added. She glanced around, her gaze searching the surrounding landscape. “Why ever would he keep running?”

“Maybe he got into the spirit of the whole thing and his survival instincts kicked in. He didn’t want to go down without a fight.”

“What about his human?” my mother asked.

“She followed him, of course. They’re probably deep in the woods having afterlife-affirming sex as we speak.” Oops. Bad sister. But I was sort of hoping that the notion of my do-no-wrong older brother getting jiggy with a mere human would be enough to distract my mother from the questions swimming in her gaze.

“Remy?” My mother shifted her attention to the man standing next to me. “Did you see Max?”

“I sure did and, I must admit, he was something to see. When Lil went for the whistle, he put up a hell of a fight. You folks obviously trained him well.”

My dad puffed out his chest. “It’s all about tradition. Sure, we’ve got bottled this and bottled that, but what happens if the blood bottlers ever go out of business? My children won’t be wasting away for lack of skill, let me tell you. Each one of them has the ability to find and conquer, no matter how cunning their prey.”

“And they’re obviously resilient,” Remy added. “Even limping and exhausted, Max refused to concede defeat.”

“We Marchettes
are
fighters,” my dad offered. “We stand up for what we believe in and refuse to cower. It’s a matter of principle. Of pride. Why, Viola may think she won just because the court ruled in her favor, but I’m not giving up.” His gaze narrowed and he flashed his fangs. “Those are still MY bushes.”