Susie’s words echoed in his head. That’s what she’d told him back in high school when he’d worked up the nerve to ask her out. He’d gotten a new haircut and ordered a cool pair of jeans and an AC/DC T-shirt online. He’d even invested the money he’d made typing English papers on a pair of contact lenses. But it hadn’t been enough. By then, the damage had already been done, his reputation established. His new look had failed. Even more, one of his contacts had popped out and Susie had ground it into the concrete as she’d spun on her heel, told him to get lost and walked away.
Her rejection had set the stage for many more to come. He’d gone on to have a measly three sexual encounters in his lifetime (not counting the experimental petting he’d done with his buddy Meg back in the ninth grade), and not one woman had ever come back for seconds.
In fact, he’d had a pretty hard time talking them into firsts.
All that had changed the night he’d been turned.
He’d changed.
A gleam of yellow pushed through the part in the drapes and sliced across the carpet at his feet, but it did little to illuminate the rest of the room. He blinked, his gaze piercing the darkness, drinking in every detail of the small hotel room—from the faint scars on the worn dresser to the tiny thread that unraveled at the corner of the bedspread, to the shimmering spiderweb that dangled in the far corner. His vision had improved and sharpened to the point that he had no need of the black coke-bottle glasses he’d worn since the age of five.
His dark blond hair was shinier and thicker, too, his body more muscular and defined. His acne had completely cleared up and his tongue no longer tied itself into knots when a pretty female looked his way.
Now he knew exactly how to talk to a woman.
How to look at her. To touch. To seduce.
He was now a vampire who craved sexual energy as much as he craved the sustenance of blood. More, in fact. And after thirtyone years of near celibacy, Dillon Cash had no qualms feeding the hunger that now lived and breathed inside of him.
His nostrils flared and the scent of warm, ripe woman filled his head. His body responded instantly. His hands itched to reach out. His muscles tightened in anticipation. The blood pounded through his veins. His dick stirred, growing hard, hot, ready.
Still. As great as he knew the sex would be, this encounter would just make him that much more anxious for the next.
Another woman.
Another rush of succulent, sweet, drenching energy.
He needed it. He thrived on it. He fed off of it.
Gladly.
Unlike the vampire who’d turned him, Dillon wasn’t the least bit anxious to escape the hunger. Not when it came with so many perks. He knew he would inevitably miss his humanity. He would then get as serious as Jake about finding and destroying theAncient One, and putting an end to the vampire curse once and for all.
After he’d broken Bobby McGuire’s record for having slept with the most women in town.
Bobby was a legend in Skull Creek. He’d held the number one spot on the town’s Randiest Rooster list for a record twenty-eight years, right up until he’d turned forty-eight and had had his first heart attack. The doc had put him on a strict No Excitement diet, and he’d been booted off the list. Before however, he’d been a major gigolo rumored to have done the deed with over three hundred women, a count he’d recorded by carving notches into his pine headboard. That proof had sold for over two thousand dollars last year at a local charity auction when Bobby, now an old man, had donated a houseful of furniture and moved to a retirement community in Port Aransas.
Over the years, some had called Bobby a sex maniac. Others had called him a liar. A few had even said he was delusional.
But no one—not a single soul—had ever called him a geek.
Not that Dillon cared what other people thought. Nor did he have any desire to land himself on the notorious list.
This wasn’t about proving something to the folks of Skull Creek. It was about proving something to himself. After so many years of having zero luck with the opposite sex, he’d started to think that maybe, just maybe, Susie had been right about him.
He’d never really thought so. He’d always walked the straight and narrow because of his parents. He didn’t want to cause them any more grief. He’d caused enough as a child when he’d nearly gotten himself killed.
It had been his seventh birthday and he’d been determined to camp out down by the creek. His parents had said no, but he’d snuck out anyway. He’d been walking around without shoes near the water and had stepped on something sharp. In a matter of days, a small puncture wound had morphed into a full-blown staph infection.
A near fatal infection that had turned his parents from normal and easygoing people to smothering and obsessive caretakers in less than six months.
Cheryl Anne was too young to remember—she’d been four at the time—and too young to blame him for the stifled life she’d been forced to lead. But he remembered how things had been before the incident. His parents had been fun-loving and adventurous back then. And Dillon? He’d been outgoing. A risk taker with a zest for life.
He’d buckled under the guilt, suppressed that lust and obeyed his folks from then on. To everyone else, he’d seemed like a quiet, shy, timid kid, but deep inside he’d been just the opposite.
An act. That’s all it had been, or so he’d always thought up until he’d graduated high school without even making it to second base with a girl. The doubts had set in then—the notion that maybe he wasn’t really pretending. Maybe he really had morphed into a bona fide geek.
Even now that he was a vampire there were still moments—quick bursts of thought whenever he found himself in the most unreal situations—when he knew, he just knew, he had to be dreaming and it was just a matter of time before reality intruded and he morphed back to his old, boring self.
But he was going to change all of that and silence the doubts for good. He’d fantasized about breaking Bobby’s record—what hormone-driven teenage boy hadn’t?—but he’d never had the opportunity.
Until now.
Two months, an uncontrollable hunger and a nearly impossible number of women—he was now only two shy of his goal.
Training his gaze on the tall, voluptuous blonde, he sent a rush of mental images, leaving no doubt in her mind what he wanted to do to her.
She didn’twalk away this time. She couldn’t. Shewanted him with a greedy desperation that she’d never felt for any other man.
He read that truth in her eyes—another vampire perk—along with the fact that, despite her beauty and the prestige of being number one on Tilly’s Hottest Chicks list, she was the loneliest and most miserable of all her friends. Contrary to rumor, she hadn’t left her second husband because he’d filed bankruptcy after some bad business investments. He’d been cheating on her with a giggling twenty-one-year-old barmaid and had spent their entire savings on hair plugs, liposuction and a penis enlargement.
“Touch me,” she begged. “Please.”
And because Dillon needed her as much as she needed him, he did.
“CAN ANYONE TELL ME THE key ingredient to a successful relationship?”
Meg wiggled in her seat, craned her neck and peered between two gigantic teased and sprayed hairdos. Her gaze went to the woman who stood center stage in the small lobby of the Skull Creek Inn.
Winona Atkins was well into her seventies. She wore a flowerprint smock, white orthopedic shoes and a penis-shaped name tag that read Carnal Coach. Rolls of snow white curls covered her head and a pair of gold-rimmed cat’s eye glasses hung from a chain around her neck.
The old woman arched a white eyebrow as she