Page 4 of Saved by the Vampire Goddess (Dark Wine Vampires #1)

Chapter four

Evelina

Minnesota Ark Prime—Moments later

A n electronic message dings in, asking for my latest report while I listen to Lord Whatsit’s story. When he finishes, I sit down at my desk and open the computer’s message center. Oh boy, do I have a lot of juicy stuff to report. The inners have reverted to the good ole days of forced marriage, of seeing women as the property of men to be bartered and sold. Mortals are just f’n fantastic.

My deep suspicion is that the Lux already know this—they just left it out of the information they share with me.

I grind my teeth, thinking about all the old dudes I had to blow in Hollywood in the 1930s, and feel a pang of pity for the girl. I remember being twenty and hating how the world worked. It took women gettin’ together and saying “no more” before that sort of thing stopped being the norm, and even when they did, the rich a-holes used their money to buy their way back to the top so they could change the laws and keep on leveraging their power, coercing women to screw them to get the job, the movie role, or financial security.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

But like then, there’s not much Valroy can do about the situation. What did they call it back in the day? Yeah, a systemic problem —one guy can’t do much about a systemic problem on his own. The time to fix those is while you still have power. Once they come hunting for you, it’s too late. Returning to New Rome to save his sister is nothing but a pipe dream. I’d be wasting my time to even humor him.

The Lux will take a while to reply. I expect they’ll relocate him to a dome community struggling to sustain an adequate population.

A fine, strapping young buck like him—I bet he’s fertile enough to sire twenty kids.

So first things first. I need to get Valroy into decent clothes. If I keep staring at his now-healed naked chest, his ripped abs, his firm biceps, I’ll end up jumping his bones, and as appealing as that is, it’d be better if I just skip the temptation. More straightforward that way. I don’t need a one-night stand, especially when I expect the Lux will whisk him outta here fast and interrupt us.

Besides, there’s more to his story than disobeying the head numbskull. I’ll worm the truth out of him, eventually. But now’s the time to get his tempting physique outta sight. “You need to shower off the decon residue, and I need to find you something to wear. What’s your sizes?”

“Um, center back is thirty-five inches, chest is forty-two, waist thirty-three, and neck to hip twenty-seven point five.”

“Oh fer cute! You don’t know your sizes?”

“All my clothing is custom made.”

I shake my head. Poor little rich boy. “We don’t got no tailors here. You’ll have to settle for off the rack.” I eyeball him as I consider the measurements he reeled off, and guesstimate his sizes. “All right, through here to the shower.”

The decontamination liquids leave a harsh smell on the skin. But it’s that, or risk tracking wild molds, bacteria, or toxic chemicals into the ark. If deadly microorganisms and substances get loose, they might kill the animals and plants protected by my interconnected preservation domes.

I gesture for him to follow me into my bedroom, which connects to the master bathroom. My only bathroom. The Lux granted us a few luxuries when they set up the preservation domes. A king-sized bed, decadent shower, and hot tub were the top three on my list.

Once in the room, I have to explain every little thing to him. How to turn on the hot and cold water. What homemade body wash is for (he asks for bar soap). How to use the pump to get the shampoo out of the bottle (again, homemade).

Geez Louise. Did the servants do everything for him? Did they hold his dick when he peed?

At least he doesn’t ask how to use the toilet.

I give him fresh towels and whoosh out of there, back to my living space, closing the bedroom door behind me.

My next priority is to heal the knife wound on my arm where Valroy stabbed me. Silver wounds burn like heck and don’t heal fast. I need the blood of another vampire to heal a wound like that, and I used the last of the spare vial on Valroy’s neck. I ignored the pain in my arm while I took care of his needs, but now the son of a bitch is bugging me, so I return to the kitchen, where the frozen bag of Gavin’s blood is defrosting on the counter. Gavin and I trade off pints just for this sort of thing, and it’s defrosted enough that I can pour some out. Using a paintbrush, I sweep his blood over the black char on my white skin. Soon, the injury shows signs of healing. I brush on a bit more and then clean up, refrigerating the rest of Gavin’s blood.

Feeling better, I go down the stairs to the basement warehouse. My ark’s dome covers the warehouse and connects to other domes enclosing the agricultural acreage behind my living quarters. I stop at the floor dedicated to men’s clothing and grab extra-large sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a pair of oversized flip-flops.

Later, I’ll figure out a nice set of going-away clothes for him, because I know there’s no way on God’s green earth—what’s left of it—that the Lux will allow him to stay. Since the environment collapsed, only a few geographical zones will support mortals outside the domes, and this isn’t one of them. If against all odds I find a mortal wandering around out there, still alive despite the environmental factors, I’m not allowed to keep them. The Lux will take them to a mixed dome and try to introduce them to what passes for civilization.

Plus, his imperial highness is useless here. He doesn’t know how to do anything practical. And he’s a darn distraction. My sole goal is to finish my current scavenger contract, earn enough to return to the mixed domes, and resume my singing career.

When I whoosh back to the living area with clothes for his lordship, Ricky and Lucy look restless, so I give each an elk leg bone to keep them both busy so they don’t rip up the furniture. I dump his clothes on the bed, then shut the door behind me.

The computer’s message center beeps at me, and I read the Lux’s response to my earlier report.

You took him, you keep him. He was supposed to die. You interfered. He’s your responsibility.

“What the ever-loving cheese and f’n crackers!” They never do what I expect them to.

What about the rules?

The response is faster than I expected:

He’s lived in an isolated dome all his life as imperial royalty. Introducing him to a mixed society would take too many resources to re-educate him.

Valroy comes running from the bedroom, a towel around his waist. His broad, heavily muscled chest drips with water.

I want to lick the water right off him.

Focus, Evelina .

“What happened?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“You screamed.”

“Oh, yeah, that. The Lux don’t want you. What you heard was my realizing I’m stuck with you for the moment.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was hoping another dome would adopt you. Now I have to take time away from scavenging to take care of your sorry butt, too.”

“You do not. You can return me to New Rome and be free of me.”

“I already told you that’s impossible.”

“There must—”

“Look, babysitting you wasn’t in my plans. I’m not thrilled about it. But do you really want to die?” I rise from my desk chair and wave an arm toward the exit. “I’ll open the garage doors and let you out, if you do. You won’t make it half a mile walking in that storm.”

His expression is a cross of determined and disgruntled.

I almost expect him to take the walking-back option.

Instead, he frowns. “Regardless, I can take care of myself.”

If my eyes rolled any harder, they’d hit the ceiling. “I bet your servants would tell a different story.”

“Well—”

“Now I have to teach you how to cook, clean, and take care of yourself while doing my job, too. Christ on a crutch!” I point at the bedroom. “Now go back in there and dry off. You’re dripping water all over my Berber rug, and they ain’t making any more of them, doncha know?”

He gets up on his tiptoes—who the heck knows why—and totters back to the bedroom.

The reverse view is just as good as the front. A round bubble butt snugged by the towel, and perfect for squeezing.

Shoot. He’s a distraction I don’t need, and I pivot on my feet, clench my fists, and march to the kitchen to avoid the retreating view of his behind. Sleeping with him now is impossible. I know myself. When I get a taste, it’ll be hard not to get sidetracked, and I’ll end up spending more time with him than I have to spare.

I mean, I have a chance at a real goal here. Scavenging all night is the only way I’ll earn enough goods to barter with when I return to a mixed dome. My stockpile needs to last for ten years to give me time to get the rock band back together, start touring, and make it as a singer again. The mixed domes of mortals, vampires, and Lux have a budding economy, but not enough to support full-time musicians.

Now that Valroy is staying here, he won’t be a momentary distraction but one for the entire remaining term of my contract. Three whole years.

Nope. Can’t do it.

Escaping fast is my only choice. “Your clothes are on the bed,” I yell in his direction. As soon as he emerges dressed, I meet him in the middle of the room and outline the plan. “You can use my bed and get some sleep. I work at night scrounging for stuff from the list your people left me. It’s the only way I get paid. So I’ll see you tomorrow night and start your training.”

“Why can’t I go with you?”

I snort. “So you can fling yourself off the snowmobile whenever you think we’re near enough to New Rome? Not happening. I don’t feel like chasing you around tonight.”

“Then why must you go?”

“I need to work, or I don’t get any dark wine.”

“They give you wine?”

My patience is about to run out with his fifty questions, and I let out a long sigh. “Dark wine is what we call human blood.”

The confusion on his face can only mean more questions.

“Are you their…slave?”

“No.” Maybe the Lux are right. It’ll take too many resources to re-educate him.

“Then what—”

“I have a four-year contract. It’s sort of like being in the military, but I’m a volunteer.”

“You volunteered to live here alone?”

“Sure. The preservation domes have to be staffed by someone, and us vampires are uniquely suited to scavenger the leftovers of a dead society. Not only are we stronger, we can withstand temperature extremes, poisons, and environmental toxins that would kill a mortal like you.” I watch as he registers that information, a little shock coloring his face. “So the Lux set up this system. It’s not all bad. I get six weeks of vacation each year and am paid handsomely for my service when my term is up. That is, if I work for it, which is why I gotta go. I’ve wasted enough time saving your ass.”

“Mixed dome?”

“Mortals, vampire, and Lux live together in the mixed domes.”

“Oh. Very well.” He crosses his arms and, with his nose high, stares down at me. “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”

“Read a book.” I point at the library covering one wall. “If you’re hungry, there’s fresh fruit in that bowl on the island. Don’t feed the dogs. If they overeat, they get the runs, and then you’ll clean it up. But it must be nighttime on your body clock—go get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired.” He shifts, running a hand through his curly hair in a frustrated gesture, which causes his biceps to bulge.

Now my fangs are tingling from that display, and I throw my hands in the air. “Then read. And whatever you do, don’t go through those doors.” I point at the double glass doors that lead to the tunnels connecting to the preservation domes. “The doors open automatically. I can’t lock them, because the dogs need to go to the annex dome to potty. But don’t follow them. You might get hurt or lost. I’ll give you a tour another night.”

He steps forward, bringing his salty ocean scent with him. “Why not now? Before you go?”

My hormones are screaming at me to give in, and my clit wakes up to join the party, longing for something warm and hard.

That’s it. I can’t stay in the same room with him any longer. Not when my brain and my body aren’t on the same wavelength.

I whoosh to the garage, slip on my heavy parka, boots, and gloves, put on my goggles, and raise the metal door. The snowmobile is easier to start if I’m on snow, so I push the machine outside. The freezing night air is better than a cold shower, and clears my head of the tempting mortal waiting inside my habitat.

This region has two seasons: freeze-your-butt-off cold, or blister-your-feet-on-the-pavement hot. Nothing in between. The continuous cloud cover during the cold season keeps everything frozen.

At least I have plenty of water from the snow. My friends who got stuck in the southwest are on water rations. No hot tub for them! Yay, me!

Not. The situation’s terrible to contemplate even when I can’t stop my gallows humor from rearing its sarcastic head.

The wind’s died down a bit. I don’t need the headlights, but I flip the switch anyway, as the extra light brings color to a grayed world. You’d think by this time I’d have scavenged all the nearby towns. But in the ninety-one years since the Collapse, the keepers who’ve rotated through the Minnesota arks have barely touched the hundred-square-mile area. That’s the extent of what we can reach from the ark and return in one night before the sun rises.

Slowly taking apart the residue humankind left behind, reclaiming what’s worth saving, comes with a personal toll. I stuff down the heartache that rises as I paw through the belongings of mortals who died terrible deaths when the climate of this world could no longer feed them. Temperatures plunged, turning them into frozen mummies, or climbed to furnace-like heat, making jerky out of their dehydrated bodies.

My teammates and I started in the abandoned rich neighborhoods, scouring the big-box stores one by one because we had a greater chance of finding the high-demand items the inners wanted.

During one of my earliest four-year stints scavenging here, I stockpiled an entire lumber store into bins on the first floor of the warehouse, where I keep my trading goods. I dribble out those hardwoods in small bites, to ensure the rarity keeps the value high when I trade with the inners for bags of mortal blood.

We’ve cleaned out the other wholesalers and retailers. Now, we’re focused on homes, sorting through the leftovers abandoned in the chaos. For tonight’s foray, I pick a middle-class condo. Those are often good for electronics—assuming the rats haven’t gnawed through the wires or the atmosphere hasn’t degraded them to the point of uselessness.

The night turns out to be productive. Precious stones, especially diamonds, have industrial uses, and I hit the mother lode. When the Collapse came, some mortals traded their life savings for diamonds, thinking the lightweight gems would buy them a better life somewhere else.

Except you can’t eat diamonds. When food production stopped, people died of mass starvation. If you weren’t lucky enough to live in an area the Lux dropped a dome over, you didn’t survive beyond the first year, at least not here. Further south, maybe. But the mortals from around here didn’t have the resources to make it to one of the Goldilocks areas where people can still survive outdoors.

The folks who lived in this condo either died here, or died fleeing, taking what little they could with them. But why not take the diamonds? Were they all killed before they could flee? Something must have stopped them. Those were brutal times.

I clear two condos before I run out of darkness. Even with the cloud cover, the sun is still my enemy.

It takes precious minutes to circle back to New Rome, drop off a sample of the treasure I’ve found—three middle-sized diamonds—and write out my demand for fifteen pints of blood. Between the five pints I relinquished to my brethren in exchange for his lordship, and the fact I’ll be hanging around a very tempting mortal, I need extra to avoid dipping into my clone blood reserves.

The guard on duty is quick to load the dispenser, and I collect seven bags and a note promising the remainder later in the week. When I arrive home, I hit the button to open the heavy metal door, slide the snowmobile into the garage, and, after locking up, wipe down the exterior of the trailer and snowmobile with disinfectant. I leave the remaining diamonds on the workbench. Not like anyone will steal them. I go through decon, throw on some casual sweats, shove my bounty of blood bags into the hallway refrigerator, and head to my living area.

The amateur radio squawks to life. “Hey, Evelina, are you back?”

Gavin’s voice. I stride over to the computer table, grab the microphone, and key it. “Just barely. What do you want?”

“The mortal guy. Are you going to keep him?”

“Why’re you askin’?”

“Thought we might shuffle him around, you know, share and share alike?”

I growl involuntarily. “So you idiots can drain him in one night? Do I need to report you for another cycle of ethics classes?”

“We wouldn’t hurt him, Evelina. Come on.”

“The Lux left him in my care, and that’s where he’s stayin’ for now. I don’t think they’d be too pleased with him being shuffled around, doncha know.”

“All right, yeah. No need to get testy. Me and the others just thought a little taste wouldn’t hurt.”

Yeah, right. A taste after decades of not feeding off the vein? I might have that self-control, but I can’t say I think the whole gang does. Valroy got lucky that I showed up at the reclamation bin when I did.

“Later.” I drop the microphone onto the hook.

All I want is a hot shower to get rid of the decon ick and whoosh into my bedroom, using stealth mode. I don’t want to disturb his lordship.

And I stop.

Valroy sprawls across my bed, snoring lightly, his curly chestnut-brown hair still messy. A book lies beside him.

I pick it up—a photo book about coral reefs. What an interesting choice for an inner to read. I silently return it to his side, careful not to wake him.

I need to shower, feed, write instructions for the snoring giant, and get into one of my light-proof sleep pods.

Old habits die hard. I have quite a few sleep pods scattered throughout the habitat, at least one on each floor of the warehouse, and I don’t want Lord Snoops-Around to find me during the day.

Because if he does, I’ll reflexively rip his throat out. I won’t mean to. But if he startles me awake, I doubt he’ll survive the encounter. So I climb into the sleep pod, pull the lid down, and lock it from the inside. Better safe than sorry.