14

McKenzie

Welcome to the Hellfest

Vampire Rule Number 12:

We hate each other.

That’s simply it.

It’s sad, really. We’re supposed to marry into each other’s families, produce each other’s offspring, and yet we can’t stand to be in the same house. We’re loners, independent creatures comfortable only with our intended soul mates…if we’re lucky.

Truth be told, I pretty much loathe everyone in my dining room.

The heads of the families are as arrogant as they come, and I completely understand why my father gave me the tedious headache of attending vampire meetings in his stead. Everyone eats their appetizers in perfect silence. Dr. Kline, Narcissa’s father, wasn’t able to make it because of conflicting schedules, and he’s the one man I could have had a civil, intelligent conversation with. Thomas Pepperidge makes some sort of snotty remark about how there isn’t anyone serving our wine or waiting on us hand and foot. Jada Ferenz doesn’t get why we don’t have three sets of forks. Silas Hawthorne is slurping his soup, and I want to claw my ears off.

It’s tradition to wait until the appetizers are over before vampires settle down to business.

I have to wait until the last miscreant is done with their soup before I stand and welcome everyone.

I’d rather throw them all out on their asses.

“Thank you for coming,” I say after I’ve had about enough of watching melted provolone drip from Angelina Potts’s chin. “I am honored to host our meeting this evening. Let us begin the meal officially with a shared bottle of wine. Who brought a bottle worthy of our illustrious attentions?”

“Allow me to proffer the peace drink,” Derrick says, handing me an open bottle.

I can see capers floating in it.

Son of a bitch.

“What year, Devoure?” one of the elders asks.

“Two thousand twenty-five,” Derrick says with a grin. “Fresh from a willing host, a lovely young thing on a Caribbean cruise.”

I can feel my fingers trembling as I pour just enough wine into thirty-one shot glasses for each of us to have a taste.

Derrick knows I have difficulty controlling myself with fresh blood. He knows that, when it’s warm, my dependency comes into full swing. I can nearly smell the girl he got it from, the way her heart beat and her pulse thumped as he somehow convinced her to give him enough blood for a bottle. This blood has a bite to it, like she was intoxicated when it was harvested.

Yeah, harvested.

I don’t have a better word for it.

“To old friends,” I choke out before raising my shot glass in a toast and tossing the blood back.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had blood this fresh. A long time.

A familiar buzz ripples through me. I can feel my fangs lengthening. My sense of smell is suddenly sharper. I can scent Heather in the kitchen, the hints of food still on her, and her underlying perfume of something soft and yet deep…Juniper.

It suits her.

I can hear her heart beating from here. Relaxed, completely oblivious to the masquerade of predators sitting only yards away. Her breath is soft and gentle as she scrolls through her phone.

And for one horrible moment, I can hear her thoughts.

Vampire Rule Number 13:

Sometimes, when highly aroused or on the edge of restraint, a vampire can hear what someone is thinking.

It takes me all of five seconds to realize she’s thinking about me.

“Divine, isn’t it?” Derrick breaks my concentration, his voice triumphant.

I’ve forgotten about the taste, which by itself is intoxicating.

“What has brought about this meeting tonight?” I ask, ignoring him and blinking several times, hoping my pupils will return to their original size and the reddish tint I know is there will quickly fade away.

I’m suddenly very, very dehydrated.

I need blood, badly.

Not just wine.

I can’t do this right now. No one needs to see me run from the room in search of something to drink. No. I’m going to have to bear this pain even as Derrick’s wine begins to burn in my stomach.

“We are here to discuss the matter of our annual gathering,” Amelia, one of the older vampires, says. “As we all know, it is of the greatest importance that it be hosted in a luxurious venue with only the best entertainments and foods. This year, there will be close to six hundred vampires attending. We want only the best for our people.”

“Chester Sinclair offered to host again, but the venue in Myrtle Beach was hardly appropriate,” Pepperidge says haughtily. “The mosquitoes were a nightmare, and the food was subpar. It would be a disgrace to allow him to host.”

Her words are blurring at the edges. I’m beginning to tremble as my need for sustenance roars through me. I need more blood. The sip of fresh blood was only enough to kick my blood lust into overdrive.

Damn Devoure.

“I would think this important enough of a topic that more of you would be here,” I snap.

Oh no. I’m agitated and it’s showing. Easy McKenzie. Easy. This is what Derrick wants.

“Perhaps we should discuss this more after we’ve had dinner,” Derrick says with a smirk. “When we can all be focused on the matter at hand rather than our hunger.”

“Yes.”

I nearly growl the word.

I get up and go to the kitchen, keeping my head bowed so Heather can’t see my face.

“Heather, would you mind helping me carry plates in?” I ask.

I don’t want her anywhere near my company. I really don’t. But I can’t carry everything alone, and with the way my hands are trembling, I think I might drop something.

Or perhaps shove a plate into Derrick’s smug face.

“Of course,” Heather says softly, and I wonder if she can hear the struggle in my voice.

I don’t wait to see if she’s helping. I grab four plates, already prepared with veal Marsala, pasta, broccoli, and those homemade rolls, and carry them back to the dining room.

I don’t care that I nearly drop my plates in front of my guests. I don’t care about the smells surrounding me or the coldness of the room.

But I do care when Derrick whistles between his teeth.

“Well, hello,” he says, his voice in full suave mode. “Is this the chef we have to thank for our glorious meal?”

“Hello,” Heather says, and I look at her, realizing how bizarre this situation is.

She’s literally in a den of vipers.

Bloodsucking vipers.

Every single one of us just enjoyed a taste of fresh human blood. Some of us even have remnants of it at the corners of our lips. We are all dressed in our finest, all name brands, all posh, and proper, and cruel. Every single vampire in this room has already judged her based on the fact that she’s human. They’ve all looked over her plaid shirt, her faded jeans, and her Converse. Some have snickered over her glasses. One or two have mentioned her vibrantly dyed hair.

Derrick’s entire aura is vibrating with the thrill of the chase.

He’s going to sweet-talk her like there’s no tomorrow.

If I want to keep my proper host status, there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Mac,” Derrick chides, his dark eyes positively glowing, “why didn’t you invite this lovely creature to dine with us?”

“She’s busy helping in the kitchen,” I snap.

“Let me help you bring in the rest of the plates,” Derrick says to her, a dazzling smile on his face. “You must need some assistance, with all of us here. Did you make all this? The rolls smell positively amazing.”

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” Heather says proudly, and my gut clenches.

Don’t, Heather. Don’t take the bait.

“Is it? Then I can’t wait to taste it.”

Derrick is out of his chair and following her into the kitchen. I move to follow them, but Amelia starts talking about the gathering again, and I’m forced to resume my seat. I swear, if I have to engage in this conversation right now, when I’m dying for blood, when Heather is entertaining the bane of my existence while serving my ridiculous guests…

“Why do you have such a vile little creature in your house?” Pepperidge sniffs when Amelia takes a break to catch her breath.

“What would Narcissa’s family think? And how is your engagement party coming along?”

“Narcissa,” I grind out, my teeth nearly breaking because they’re clenched so hard, “enjoys Heather immensely. The engagement party has been delayed by two weeks due to this meeting.”

I try to listen in on what is happening in my kitchen when Heather and Derrick come back in with more plates.

I want to get up and play the part of bodyguard.

I want to warn her about what Derrick is, that he can effectively seduce her, that he’s dangerous.

And all the while, I’m about to keel over from blood thirst.

When the plates are all on the table, Derrick pulls a chair out for Heather, placing her directly next to him. Graciously, she sits.

And I’m about to put my fucking fist through the table.

©2026, Vampires Love Garlic by Ashley Chapman – All rights reserved.