“Okay,” she said, “but I have a limited number of underpants, so don’t—shit!” She heard the tell-tale rrrrrrip and, out of spite (and, okay, some lust…okay, a lot of lust) ripped through his blue jeans in exactly the same way. “If you have any money at all,” she informed him, wriggling beneath him so they could match up, “you’re buying me new clothes.”

She reached down and felt him, cool and hard, which was startling and sexy at the same time. He hummed against her neck, and his grip shifted, from gentle to urgent, and then he was pushing against her, shoving, and she wrapped her legs around his waist to help him, to help herself. They groaned in unison and then she felt him slide all the way home, and that was worth the stupid trip, too.

He arched above her, her blood running down his chin, and she jerked his head down, licked it away, and met him thrust for thrust. He kissed her bite mark, and she heard him mutter, “Pretty.”

“Back atcha,” she gasped back, her orgasm very close, shockingly close, and then she was clutching at him so hard she heard something snap and realized with dim horror that she’d dislocated his shoulder. Then she realized that he hadn’t noticed, or cared, because his thrusts had sped up and his hands were hurting her, bruising her, and she didn’t much care, either. Then they were arching together and shuddering at the same moment, and then they were done.

After a minute in which she caught her breath and he popped his shoulder back in without so much as a change of expression, she groaned, “I’m so sorry about that.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. That badly, I mean.”

“So?”

She looked at him, and he looked back at her, two night creatures who could see each other perfectly well in the dark.

She smiled. “Boy, you’re just the perfect man, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And so modest!”

“No.”

“Want to go again?”

“Yes.”

She grinned. “I’ll bet. Listen, Betsy said you followed her home…you saved her a couple times. It’s no big deal, I’m just curious…”

“Lie.”

“Okay, okay, don’t nag. Yes, it’s a big deal. Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

So. That was that. The perfect man was in love with someone else. Of course. And the queen, of course, thought of him as a highly evolved dog. Of course. And she…she was fucked.

Chapter 10

They spent the night together, trying to hurt each other in various ways, to the extreme satisfaction of both. Antonia, who had been warned again and again

(never with monkeys; they’re fragile) found vampires to be fragile, but they healed so quickly it hardly mattered.