…well just call me Hannibal Lecter. With cleavage.

I heard the car door shut and then Fabian's voice. "You won't believe what I found around the edge of your property," the ghost announced. "A cave with prehistoric painting inside it!" I rolled my eyes. That was the best tactic Fabian could come up with? This was a vampire he was trying to stall, not a paleontologist.

That face. That body. And you know he’s packing. Look at the angle on that dangle.

Since this was a formal undead gathering, there would be food—all kinds—drinks, dancing, and festivities, while those in power pondered whether or not to slaughter half the people around them. In other words, like a high-school prom.

He gave the body a final kick and then turned to face me. “You and I need to talk, Kitten.” “Now?” I asked in disbelief, gesturing to the dead vampire near his feet. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere, so yeah. Now.

I want to know all of you, Kitten. What you show me, and what you try not to.

He leaned over and kissed me. A long, deep kiss filled with promise and passion. I loved the way he kissed me. Like he was drinking in the taste of me and still coming back thirsty.