Fashionably Dead in Diapers
them? That is freakin' gross. I am a pacifist…I think…but you're telling me I'm a cold-blooded killing machine. I'm having a teeny-weeny identity crisis at the moment. Yet the worst thing is, even though I know I'm married, I want to jump you so bad I can barely see straight. This is a problem. I am not a skank and I will not indulge in extramarital affairs, even if my hoohoo wants to."
     
    "I think your husband would understand under the circumstances," Ethan said as he watched me like a predator watches prey.
     
    "You have some nerve, Mr. No-Morals. Just because my va-jay-jay is on fire does not mean I will cheat on my husband, whoever he is. And why in the heck didn't he come with me—or is he too wimpy to go on a deadly mission?"
     
    Ethan refused to comment, which made me think my husband was a wimp. None of this was making any sense, but in a totally farked up way, it was making a sorry butt load of sense. I needed to push my all-consuming attraction for the Vampyre to the far recesses of my horny brain and get some more information.
     
    "Was I ever human? Not that I'm buying all this malarkey yet, but I'm curious," I said slowly.
     
    "Yes," he answered with a hopeful look in his eyes.
     
    "How old am I?"
     
    "You're thirty."
     
    "How old are you?"
     
    He paused and grimaced. "I'm five hundred and twenty-two."
     
    Well, that was just ridiculous. I was attracted to a dude who was alive during the Civil War? "Look Ethan, I am beginning to believe some of this, but you have to agree it's a lot to take in."
     
    He nodded and stayed silent.
     
    "Where are my fangs?" I asked as I poked around in my mouth.
     
    "Are you hungry?" he asked.
     
    "I don't know," I lied as my stomach rumbled loudly.
     
    "Come here." His voice was soft and commanding. I wanted nothing more than to throw myself at him and sink my teeth into the smooth sexy skin of his neck. Not happening.
     
    "No," I whispered. "I can't."
     
    "Why not?" His eyes had gone green again and his fangs had dropped, sending my lady parts into a tailspin.
     
    "It's just a really bad idea," I choked out as I felt something sharp in my mouth. "Oh my God. I have fangs."
     
    "You do," he agreed as he approached me.
     
    "Back off," I warned as I moved toward the door.
     
    He froze and a look of anguish passed across his face. I didn't want to hurt him. I was so confused it made me shake.
     
    "The Kev," he yelled harshly. "Get in here. Astrid needs to feed."
     
    The Kev appeared looking concerned. "What about you?" he asked Ethan.
     
    "I can wait," he said tersely and left the room.
     
    "Sorry," I mumbled as I dropped back down on the couch. "He's a little intense."
     
    "That he is." The Kev grinned and sat down next to me.
     
    He was almost as pretty as Ethan, but I had no desire to ride him until he was blind. What in the heck was happening to me? My stomach rumbled loudly and I winced in embarrassment. "Um…what do we do here?" I asked.
     
    "I will give you my wrist. You will bite down and drink," he answered as logically as if I'd asked him about the weather.
     
    "Will it hurt you?"
     
    "No, my little krumecaca. It will not hurt me at all."
     
    "I remember that," I gasped and took his large hand in mine and winced slightly at the pain in my head. "I remember that name."
     
    "Do you remember anything else?"
     
    "No," I whispered dejectedly. "Not yet."
     
    "You will. I promise you will."
     
    He put his wrist gently to my mouth and I glanced at him timidly. "Are you sure this won't hurt? Will you stop me if I take too much?"
     
    "It won't hurt and you can't take too much. I am a Fairy. My blood regenerates immediately. Please, drink."
     
    Strangely, I felt as if I was cheating on the Vampyre. How ridiculous was that? At least I knew now what I was even if I didn't buy that my name was Astrid. I felt like a Melissa or a Kellie. Whatever. The Kev wanted me to drink and I would. Maybe if I was stronger I would regain my memory—or maybe not.

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