The Care and Feeding of Stray Vampires Read Online Free PDF Page B

Although his feet dangled over the end of the sofa and his head was bent at a weird angle, his face was relaxed. He looked sort of sweet and untroubled … when his mouth was closed.
    The nearly drained blood packet rested precariously against his chest. At that angle, it was in danger of dripping onto my upholstery, so I reached over him to take it away. His eyes snapped open, and he hissed at me, fangs in full play, as his fingers circled my left wrist and squeezed. Even in his weakened state, the crushing force of his grip dropped me to my knees. I braced my feet against the chair legs and tugged frantically as he pulled my arm toward his mouth. I threw all of my weight back, hoping to knock him off balance, but he didn’t budge. Finally, I bopped him on the end of the nose with my other hand, shouting, “No!” in my sternest voice.
    His grip loosened as he stared up at me, dark eyes boring into mine as if there were secret codes scribbled on my corneas. He blinked rapidly as my face came into focus.
    “Did you just slap me on my nose like a mischievous dog?” he asked incredulously as I tried to rub the circulation back into my wrist.
    I nodded, cringing away from him. “I think I did.”
    His tone was at once menacing and amused. “And am I mistaken, or did you poke me in the eye earlier?”
    “I saw it on Shark Week,” I murmured.
    “What was that?” he asked, although I knew good and well that he could hear me.
    “I saw it on Shark Week,” I repeated in a louder, irritated tone. “The narrator said that if you’re attacked by a shark, you should jab it in the eye, and it might distract the shark long enough to let you go. I figured as another apex predator, it might apply to you, too.”
    He chuckled, a hoarse noise that rattled in his chest like a cough. “So I went from shark to dog in a matter of hours? That’s a considerable demotion. Do you always apply animal-behavior techniques to interactions with clients?”
    “I try to avoid direct interaction with clients whenever possible, particularly when I’m alone,” I griped, yanking my arm out of his grip. “And I’ve never interacted with a client who shows fang as much as you do.”
    “You have this way of sneaking up on me. My reflexes are generally better.”
    “Well, it would appear that you’re not at your best right now,” I conceded. “I think we’ve gotten off to a bad start, what with the violence and the destroyed cell-phone hardware. Can we start over?”
    His face slipped into a shrewd expression. “Does that mean a renegotiation of our financial arrangement?”
    “No.”
    “Well, I’m willing to try it anyway,” he drawled.
    “Iris Scanlon, pleased to make your acquaintance,” Isaid, reaching out to shake his hand. A pulse of warmth buzzed along my palm. He squeezed my fingertips in a way that had the nerves along my skin singing and sizzling. It felt like part tickling sexual energy, part organic emergency flare; like my sensible superego was screaming at the dumber, hornier regions of my brain that whatever the id was planning could lead to no good. I pulled my hand away abruptly. His lips twitched, and his eyes narrowed, like a hawk circling a clueless little mouse.
    “Cletus Calix, pleased not to be sprawled out on the floor.”
    I laughed at an indecent decibel level and clapped my hand over my mouth. “Cletus? As in the slack-jawed yokel?”
    “In my language, it meant ‘illustrious,’ ” he said grumpily.
    I snickered. “Or that you shared a drinkin’ gourd with your eleven brothers, also named Cletus.”
    He arched one sable eyebrow. “I’m going to assume I would have to originate from this lovely hamlet before I’d find the humor in that.”
    “Hey, I live in Half-Moon Hollow,” I protested. “And no one in my family is named Cletus. No wonder you insisted on having only your initials on the contracts.”
    “As opposed to Scanlon, which means ‘scandal’ in the old Irish tongue? There’s a