Confessions of a Vampire's Girlfriend Read Online Free PDF

Used the V-word. “. . . but that you prefer to be called Dark Ones. I know that you drink people’s blood to survive, and you’re probably a couple of hundred years old—is Imogen your older sister, or younger?”
    â€œOlder.”
    I don’t know why that made me feel better, considering he was probably at least three hundred years old, but it did. “And I know that you are really sad most of the time, but somehow, you can block the images in your mind from me at the same time you can talk into my head.”
    â€œDo you know anything about how a Dark One is created? How he can be redeemed?”
    â€œUm . . . you’re created . . . something about a demon lord cursing you?”
    I thought his eyes were black before, but they went absolutely obsidian. “My father was cursed by a demon lord.”
    â€œOh, that’s right. Imogen said something about the sins of the father being passed on to the sons, but not the daughters. I don’t know anything about redemption.”
    He looked at our hands, still locked together. It was strange touching him, feeling his warm fingers twined through mine, and not having my head filled with his thoughts and memories and everything else I felt when I touched people. “For every Dark One there is one woman, called a Beloved, who can redeem his soul, a woman who can balance his darkness with her light, and make him whole again.”
    â€œOh,” I said. So it wasn’t the smartest thing I could say. The guy was holding my hand—it was hard to think about anything but how warm his hand was.
    â€œYou are my Beloved.”
    I snatched my hand out of his, jumping backward straight into the metal rods that held the tent up. The pointy bit of bone on my wrist whacked into it, making me yelp in pain. “You’re crazy!” I said as I rubbed my sore wrist. “You’re psycho! You’re a total nutball! You’re some sort of stalker!”
    He stepped forward. “I don’t have a choice in the matter. Dark Ones have only one Beloved—many never find them. I had almost given up hope that I would ever find mine. Let me see your wrist.”
    â€œWhy, so you can bite it? No! I don’t want you touching me. You’re some sort of weirdo vamp perv. Leave me alone.”
    â€œI swear to you I will not hurt you, and that I am not a weirdo vamp perv. Let me see your wrist.”
    He stood in front of me, close enough to grab my wrist but not touching me, just waiting for me to offer up my wrist like a good little sheep.
    I am so not a sheep.
    I made a fist with my right hand at the same time I stomped on his foot as hard as I could, kneed him in the happy sacs, and as he doubled over to clutch his crotch, punched him in the Adam’s apple like Mom showed me in case some guy ever got nasty with me.
    I just don’t think she anticipated that guy being a vamp.

CHAPTER THREE

    I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, Hey, I didn’t know you could bring a vampire to his knees by kicking him in the noogies.
    Well, you can. I mean, they might be the walking undead and all that, but they are just guys, you know? They have the same outdoor plumbing as nonvamp guys, and I gathered from the way Benedikt writhed around on the ground that getting whomped there hurt him just as much as it would a normal guy.
    Which is probably why I hesitated for a few seconds rather than running off, watching him roll on the ground clutching his groin, clearly in pain but not saying a single, solitary word. He was absolutely silent. The only other guy I’ve ever kneed (my first and only date) was screaming obscenities at me after I kicked him, but not Benedikt. Guilt washed over me as I watched him, guilt and a horrible urge to laugh. Not at Benedikt, but at me, at my life. All I’ve ever wanted is to fit in, to be like everyone else, to not be the odd one, the one who is different from all the other