Free Halfway to the Grave by Jeaniene Frost Page A

hour’s worth of conversation.
    “In this case, it’s a stake. You could always feel around for something more, though. See what comes up.”
    “This better be part of that dirty-talk training, or we’re going to give this new stake a go.”
    “Now, pet, that’s hardly a romantic rejoinder. Concentrate! You do look great, by the way. That bra does wonders for your cleavage.”
    “Slime,” I spat, resisting the urge to glance down and see for myself. Later, when he wasn’t looking, I’d check it out.
    “Moving on, Kitten. Put the stake in your boot. You’ll find there’s a loop for it.”
    I reached down and found a leather circle inside each boot. The stake fit snugly inside, concealed yet within easy reach. I’d wondered where I was supposed to hide a weapon in this skin-tight dress.
    “Put your other one away as well,” he instructed me. Complying, I was now outfitted as Cat, the Vampire-Killing Slut.
    “That loop was a great idea, Bones.”
    The compliment flowed off my tongue, and I regretted itat once. He didn’t need praise. This wasn’t a friendship, it was a business arrangement.
    “Done it myself a time or two. Hmmm, still something not right, something missing….”
    He walked in a circle around me. I held still as he scrutinized my every angle. It was nerve-wracking, to say the least.
    “I’ve got it!” he declared suddenly, snapping his fingers in triumph. “Take your knickers off.”
    “What?” Did that mean what I think it did?
    “Your knickers. You know—panties, underwear, muff-huggers, nasty nets—”
    “Are you out of your mind?” I interrupted. “This is where I draw the line! What does my underwear have to do with anything? I am not flashing my…my crotch at someone, no matter what you say!”
    He spread his hands toward me in a conciliatory way. “Look, you don’t have to flash anyone anything. Believe me, a vampire will know right off without you showing him that your box is unwrapped.”
    Pushing the crude imagery out of my mind before I exploded, I jumped right in with both feet. “And just how’s he supposed to know that? No panty lines?”
    “The scent, pet,” he replied instantly. That did it. My face must have been every shade of crimson. “No vamp in the world could mistake that. Like dangling bloomin’ catnip in front of a kitty. Bloke gets a good whiff of—”
    “Will you stop?” I fought to alleviate my intense embarrassment. “I get the picture! Stop drawing it, okay? God, but you are—are…profane!”
    With anger as a buffer, I could look him in the eye again.
    “I hardly see how that’s necessary. You’ve got me dressed in these screw-me clothes, I’m all dolled up with hair and makeup, and I’m going to burn their ears off withdirty talk. If that isn’t enough to get them to take me for a ride, then I think it’s hopeless.”
    He stood very still the way vampires do, utterly motionless. It creeped me out when he did that, because it let me know how foreign our two species were. I had half of that contamination. Half of that blood flowed in my veins. His face was thoughtful—we could have been discussing the weather. The hollows and planes of his cheekbones were reflected from the overhead light. He was still the most chiseled man I’d ever seen.
    “It’s like this, luv,” he responded at last. “You look right fetching now with your new togs, but suppose a fellow prefers blondes? Or brunettes? Or likes ’em with a little more meat on the arse? These aren’t greenhorns looking for the first available artery. These are Master vampires with discriminating tastes. We might need something to tip the scales, as it were. Think of it as…advertising. Is it really that difficult for you? You know, with a vampire’s natural sense of smell, it’s not like he can’t sniff you out in the first place. Blimey, I can tell right off when you’ve got your monthlies, knickers or no knickers. Some things you just—”
    “All right!” Inhale