Fangs for the Holidays by Ana Lee Kennedy

Author:Ana Lee Kennedy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Riverdale Avenue Books
Published: 2017-12-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Tristan sat in the same spot by his dad’s marker. After a few minutes, the snow melted into his jeans and snowflakes began to fall. Finally the crunch of hesitant footsteps in the snow brought his attention up to where Morgan traversed the cemetery toward him. She paused on the other side of the headstone.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Visiting my dad.”

“Really?” She moved around the marker and stared down at it. “He’s been gone awhile.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you miss him?”

“I do. A lot.”

“And your mom’s with Gavril.” She sighed. “That’s brutal.”

“Tell me about it,” he replied sarcastically.

“Where’s Justice?”

“At our room—or out on the hunt.”

“Why didn’t you bring him with you?”

“Why do you ask so many fucking questions?” he snapped.

“Jeez, what is your malfunction?”

“You shouldn’t pry into a person’s business,” he countered.

“Well, you could be a little friendlier.”

He wilted.

“I’m sorry.” Morgan knelt next to him. “I can be a bit overwhelming. I think it’s one of the reasons Gavril kicked me out.”

He couldn’t seem to take his gaze off his father’s name, as if it was there to ground him. “What did you mean about me being naïve?”

She sighed again and lowered herself on to the edge of the platform stone. “You’re drawn to me, and Justice knows it.”

“I’m not drawn to you.”

“You are, but you’re not aware of it yet.”

He smirked. “If you say so.”

Silence passed between them; even his father was quiet. He chuckled at that thought and rose.

“Where are you going?” Morgan looked up at him.

“I’m hungry.”

She held her arm out, wrist up. “Here.”

“What? Feed from you?”

“Why not?”

He blinked. “I have a tough time controlling myself.” The image of the morgue assistant he’d killed rose unbidden in his mind. He grimaced, turning away from Morgan. “I don’t want to go into a blood frenzy and drain you.”

Her pupils widened as she stared up at him. “You regret becoming a vampire, don’t you?”

It startled him that she’d zeroed in on his internal turmoil. “Why are you staying in the cemetery instead of a shelter or with one of your street friends?”

She got to her feet but didn’t move away. The aroma of her blood wafted to him, a sweet and heady mixture. The light of the security lamps gilded her hair in blue and silver. The top of her head only reached mid-chest on him. He wanted to simultaneously bite her and hug her.

“There are lots of vamps in shelters. They hunt there, looking for those they can feed on, then kill and no one will notice.” Morgan nodded toward the crypt. “There, I’m left alone. No matter what books and movies say, vampires don’t hang out in cemeteries because there’s nothing to feed on except rats and mice.”

That idea had never occurred to him. He smiled. “You’re clever.”

At that, she grinned from ear to ear.

“So do you want to feed?” She held out her arm again.

“No, but thank you. Like I said, I don’t want to lose control.”

She nodded. “Take care, Tristan.”

Although she would be safe in the tomb, Tristan was bothered that she would be there alone.

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