Free Broken Heart 03 Because Your Vampire Said So by Michele Bardsley Page A

Exhaustion felt like concrete blocks pressing down on me.
    “I didn’t know she hadn’t eaten yet.” Gabriel sounded worried and defensive. “I didn’t mean to take so much. She … we … um, she … oh, just give her the blood!”
    “All right. I’ll be her dinner this once. But you’d better be careful, Gabriel.”
    “You know how it is with the mating lust, even for me. When a lycan meets his mate, it’s … powerful. Even she could not resist.”
    “Just remember that mating lust overpowers even the strongest alpha. You might not be able to stop next time.”
    “I hope I will not have to stop.”
    “Ew. Please. I don’t want to hear the details.”
    The velvet skin of a wrist was pressed against my mouth. My fangs reacted immediately, piercing the delicate flesh. The blood that flowed into my mouth tasted like nirvana. I drank until I was full.
    Then their voices faded into the ether and I floated once more.
    I awoke on the couch in my trailer, feeling better, if not a little groggy. I looked at the wall clock. It was a little after midnight. I felt as though I’d slept for a week.
    It was obvious that I was alone in the trailer. “Wilson?” I called.
    No answer. His music wasn’t blasting, which was a bad sign. If the boy was home, his tunes were on. Why hadn’t Darrius brought him home?
    Well, I’d just call Darrius and find out. Wilson had a few friends in town, but mostly he skulked around, finding hidey-holes and places to drink and drug.
    I sat up and stretched.
    Where had Gabriel gone? He’d been here earlier with someone else. He was the reason I’d gotten breakfast. Who’d been my donor?
    My clothes had been changed. I wore a pink baby doll shirt that said in glittery gold sparkles: COUNTRY MUSIC STAR. I also wore jeans and pink ankle socks. My boots sat next to the couch.
    My gaze fell on a Post-it note left on the coffee table.
    Stay here. Will return soon.
    Love,
    G.
    Oooo, I had the warm fuzzies. It was silly to feel mushy about a simple note, but he’d cared enough to leave it.
    I was worried about Wilson. I reached for my address book on the end table, then grabbed the mobile phone.
    Someone knocked.
    “Who is it?” I called out as I hurried to the door. My heart tripped over in my chest. Was it Wilson? Or Gabriel? I was surprised at how much I wanted to see that ornery fugitive again.
    “My name is Terran,” said a female voice. “Gabriel sent me.”
    Warily, I clenched the handle. “No offense, but how can I trust you?”
    “Because I could easily rip off the door or bust through the wall.”
    Trepidation squeezed me, but I unlocked the door and opened it.
    The woman was thin, wiry. She barely reached my chin. She would’ve been beautiful if the left side of her face had not had a long, jagged scar puckering the skin. Her black hair was pulled into a ponytail.
    She wore a bomber jacket, skintight jeans, and biker boots that buckled on the side. She carried a half sword that was smooth-sharp on one side and wicked-jagged on the other. In the belt around her waist were small knives and on her left hip, a 9mm.
    Jeez. Talk about being prepared for the worst. Her brown gaze assessed me. Then she bent down on one knee and lowered her head. “My queen.”
    For a full minute, I gaped at Terran. Me, a queen? Was she kidding? Huh. She seemed serious about her homage. And here I thought tonight couldn’t get any weirder.
    “Honey, I’m the best beautician in these parts, but I ain’t the queen of hair care.”
    She rose to her feet. I moved aside to let her in; then I shut the door.
    “You’re very funny. Humor is a good quality in a leader.”
    Riiiight. “Where’s Gabriel?”
    She paced the small living room, her gaze darting all over the place. “He’ll return soon.”
    “Are you a … er, hybrid, too?”
    “Hmph. I suppose hybrid is a better word than mutant. Or abomination.” She shrugged. “I’m your garden-variety lycan. Only Gabriel is loup de