Free A Christmas Peril by Michelle Scott

One
     
    On the one hand, a night out with the
hottest vampire hunter in Detroit was exactly what I needed to
chase away my holiday blahs. On the other hand, a Christmas party
with a bunch of vampires and their blood partners was hardly a
perfect date. Unfortunately, if I wanted one, I had to deal with
the other.
    My roommate and best friend Andrew had
been suffering through some blues of his own, but the news of a
holiday party perked him up. He chatted like his old self as I put
on my makeup and did my hair. Then he perched on the edge of my bed
as I slipped on my dress, a vintage store treasure I’d fallen in
love with the week before.
    When I turned around, Andrew put his
hands to his face in exaggerated awe. “Oh. My. God! You look
amazing! Audrey Hepburn couldn’t have worn it better.”
    The dress – a white, off-the-shoulder
affair with an A-line skirt, and a flashy, rhinestone pin fastened
at the waist – gave me the classic Hollywood glamour of Betty Davis
or Grace Kelly, providing they had been Arabic instead of white. My
black hair had been swept into a simple French twist, and my heels
added a good four inches to my height, making me average instead of
short.
    Still, I worried. Not about how I
looked, but about how well the dress would conceal my weapons: two
ash-wood stakes overlaid with silver, and a small canister of holy
water that I hoped would work like pepper spray. I frowned,
wondering where to hide the goods. I would have asked Andrew for
advice, but he didn’t know I was heading into vampire territory. If
he’d found out, he would have chained me to my bed and locked the
door to keep me from going. Since his vampire attack a few weeks
before, even mentioning the V word made him nervous. No way would
he let me step foot inside their grieve.
    I glanced in the mirror again. No, the
dress wasn’t made to hide weapons. I needed something better. I
rummaged through the back of my closet, hauling out the
bridesmaid’s dress I’d worn at my sister’s wedding. “This dress
isn’t right. I think I’ll wear this one instead.”
    Andrew’s jaw dropped when
he saw the lavender pouf from hell. “You’d pick that over a sexy cocktail dress? Do
the world a favor and bury that thing before it breeds.” He hopped
off the bed, tore the dress from my hands, and threw it back into
the closet. “You’re gorgeous, darling. Isaiah would have to be dead
to not think so.”
    I smiled. Andrew was just as gorgeous,
and all he was wearing were sweatpants and a Detroit Lions t-shirt.
It was those long lashes of his. No wonder women tended to crush on
him despite the fact he was gay.
    When the doorbell rang, Andrew went to
answer it, and I went for my hidden stash of weapons. Okay, the
bridesmaid’s dress had been a bad idea, but I still needed to
conceal a weapon or two. I shoved one of the stakes down my
cleavage, and hastily tied the other to my thigh. Since I wasn’t
carrying a purse, the tiny canister of holy water got tucked into
the sash behind the rhinestone pin.
    Feeling more prepared, I left my
bedroom. A peek into the living room revealed Isaiah dressed in a
tuxedo that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The
white roses in his arms accented his dark skin. His dreadlocks
framed his face, and his silver earring winked from high up in his
ear. Normally, my heart gave a pleasant, backwards flip whenever I
saw him, but this time, it did a triple summersault. Sexy didn’t
begin to describe my date.
    Gathering courage, I stepped into the
living room. Andrew smiled at me. Isaiah just stared.
    For one dreadful moment, there was
nothing but silence. Had I been wrong about the dress being
retro-chic? Did I instead look like I’d raided my grandmother’s
attic? I nearly fled back to my bedroom and the bridesmaid’s dress.
Then Andrew said, “Isaiah, take a deep breath and tell Cassandra
how gorgeous she looks.”
    Isaiah swallowed. “Cassie, I’m beyond
words.” He shrugged, looking helpless