Free Hunger Embraced (The Hunger Series) by Jennifer James

everything else out by exclusion. ‘Quid Pro Quo, Dr. Lecter.’”
    He looked confused by the expression and crossed his arms over his chest. The tattoo rippled nicely.
    “Don’t you ever get a stomachache from eating those?”
    “Ah-ah-ah! You answer my question first. Then I’ll answer yours.” The delicious smell of pizza wafted from the oven.
    “It is a symbol of the coven I serve. You have a similar marking.”
    He’d lost his mind. I didn’t do ink. “No, I don’t.”
    “Yes, you do. On your back.” He lowered his head, and his chin almost touched his chest.
    “If there was a big black tattoo on it, I’d know.”
    “It is on the small of your back. Just above your—”
    “Wait—do you mean my strawberry birthmark? It’s just a blob.” I had to stop him before he said butt or gluteus maximusor bottom or something equally ridiculous and embarrassing. “I don’t have a tramp stamp, thanks.”
    He shook his head slowly. “When is the last time you saw it?”
    Mmmkay, Captain Stubborn. T.T.B., the world’s first vampire/pit bull hybrid live and shirtless. “No, I never get a stomachache.” I popped a piña colada jelly bean in my mouth and wished it were the real thing. “Or cavities.”
    Daniel rolled his eyes and turned to the oven door, yanking it open to peer inside. He closed it again and looked at the clock on the back of the stove. “Five minutes or so should do it. And it’s not a blob. It’s a cup. A chalice if you want to get technical.”
    A bunch of questions burbled in my mind, but I couldn’t decide on what to ask. I had to make it count, had to make it something that would cover plenty of ground. I wondered if he’d enjoyed looking at my birthmark and my ass. I hoped he had. “A cup huh? How boring.”
    “Not boring. Important. Powerful.” He cocked an eyebrow at me, daring me to argue.
    I decided to change the subject. “Which myths are fake? About vampires, I mean.” I clarified just in case he thought I referred to unicorns or gnomes and tried to weasel out of the question. He would stick to the spirit of the question truthfully, I knew, but I didn’t trust him not to hedge. Hell, I did it, why wouldn’t he?
    “Most of us are unaffected by sunlight. We cannot be killed by typical wooden stakes, we are not dead, garlic is delicious, and blood is not the only way we gain sustenance.” He opened a drawer and retrieved a pot holder, took two plates down from the cupboard, then rooted in the fridge and produced bottled water. I would have killed for a Coke, but at least there was bacon.
    I accepted the water he offered me and twisted the top off. “Those aren’t the only myths. Religious objects, being invited in, transforming into mist or wolves, bats, changing humans by draining their blood, and obviously coffins are out.”
    T.T.B. rolled his eyes. “How many different types of people are there in the world? Many, right? Many times many, all affected by genetics, the region of the world they are from, nutrition…each pocket of humanity could almost be called a subspecies of ‘human,’ correct? Well, what makes you think vampires are any different? Just as you would be wise to take precautionary measures before venturing overseas to ensure you were not infected by a parasite the native population has grown immune to, vampires from different regions are immune to or affected by different things.”
    I covered my face with the T-shirt and groaned in frustration. “Well, OK, but any way you slice it, a human hit by a bus be it in Mexico or Pakistan is still a dead human.” When I dropped the cotton back down I froze. The nimbus of light I’d been seeing around him flared in white-blue whips and arcs. The twin points of his fangs depressed his lower lip. I swigged the water and wiped a stray drop off my lower lip with the back of my hand, keeping my attention on the floor a few feet in front of him.
    The rumble of a low growl rose, and I froze until it cut off.