Skim Blood and Savage Verse by Angel Martinez

Author:Angel Martinez
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Pride Publishing
Published: 2017-05-14T14:00:00+00:00

* * * *

“You’ve lost weight again, Loveless.” Dr. Moreau glowered at his chart on the computer screen. “Who was it this time?”

“Hilarious, Doctor, I’m sure.” Carrington swung his feet idly against the exam table, wondering if he should have called in depressed. Er, sick. The irony of it was that he would’ve missed his annual department physical if he had. “I’ve just been feeling a little malaise-ish lately.”

“Boyfriends? Breakups in the past month?”

Carrington gave her an anemic, one-shouldered shrug. “Nothing to speak of. I wasn’t seeing him long enough to even call him a boyfriend.”

She nodded, typing notes as he spoke. “I hate to say this, but you do have a pattern. If I could prescribe a steady, faithful, nice boyfriend, I would. You don’t eat well between relationships and you don’t eat well when they start to go sour. For nutritionally typical vampires, I don’t worry so much. They can go for longer between meals. You? Not so much. Two bags a day, Loveless. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m doing the best I can.” He watched his boots swinging aimlessly.

Dr. Ida Moreau saw all the paranormal cops in the state and treated their sometimes-peculiar issues. In the first year after his turning, he’d asked her all sorts of questions about the other vampires. Were they stronger? Faster? Better hunters? She’d just smiled, patted his knee and told him that none of them could last more than five minutes in daylight. That one concession had gotten him through his time at State Paranormal where he’d been made to feel less-than at every opportunity.

Today, he didn’t feel like the plucky atypical vampire-who-could any longer, nor did he have any desire to pester Dr. Moreau with pathetic questions. He simply felt tired. Everything ached, even though he hadn’t been out in the sun yet, and he just couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for his upcoming shift.

He’d woken before sunrise with a jackhammer headache. Not the best start to any day. A quick search of possible causes had led him to the damn jasmine, which he’d promptly taken out into the hall and dumped down the garbage chute. He’d thrown open all the windows in his condo, but the cloying scent still stuck to everything like static-laden plastic wrap. The early morning doctor’s appointment had been something of a blessing.

Dr. Moreau had even juggled her schedule so that he could still make it to work in time for roll call. If he hadn’t suspected that she was still awake from the night before instead of up early, he would have been eternally grateful. Oh, well. It was still kind of her to fit him into her schedule between eldritch rune studies and treating pre-cognitives with PreTSD—pre-traumatic stress disorder.

As far as he could be, he was prepared to face the day, but as soon as he reached his desk, he realized he’d made a grave tactical blunder.

“Where’s your cooler?” Amanda demanded, giving him a look that could have stripped lead paint.

“In the car?”

“You came in a taxi.

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