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

Chapter 37

When the Kids Say They’re Studying

Heather

Rain is drumming on the skylight, sending a gray hue down where I’m sitting on my bed. I’ve been studying for two hours, typing away on my computer for one. I’d much rather be at the mansion, working on decorating, seeing how far Marquis and his team have come since yesterday, but I do still have school.

Phooey.

Thunder rumbles overhead. I tuck my legs beneath me and debate whether to pull on a pair of leggings. Today’s supposed to be my comfort day. For me, that means wearing one of my oversized sweater dresses without any sort of pants and some fuzzy Snoopy socks. My hair’s down and probably a mess, but it’s just me, so I don’t care. Oma’s at a church meeting, and I’ve got the whole house to myself.

“‘Savannah’s tunnels have long been a mystery, the source of much romanticism and speculation…’ Not too shabby, I guess,” I mumble, looking from the notes I scribbled on a piece of paper and then up to my computer. “‘What happened beneath the city streets, from the very founding of the city to what could possibly be happening even now, in our current…’”

My cell phone vibrates.

I unlock it.

You home?

Kenzie. My heart lurches.

“Yes.” I type back.

Can I come over?

Upstairs in my room. Back door’s unlocked.

I push my notebook away, set my computer down, and move to get up. I need some pants of some sort. This sweater dress only falls down to mid-thigh.

The back door slams, and I jump.

Did he text from the driveway?

There’s a loud thumping on the stairs, like the man’s pounding his way up. My door is flung open, and there he is, McKenzie Kevin Bristol, looking like he just ran a marathon and is sweating blood. His hair’s damp, strands plastered to his forehead. He’s huffing and puffing and his black button-down shirt needs ironing. And… he really is sweating blood.

“Hello,” I say softly, unsure.

He sighs, unbuttons his shirt, and pulls it off. He’s wearing a black sleeveless undershirt, and he uses the button-down to wipe at the blood dotting his arms, neck, and face.

“Did something happen?” I ask.

“Derrick showed up.” He wipes blood from his hairline. “Wants a part in the vampire get-together.”

He looks at his black shirt, sighs again, and tosses it to the side.

“Little rat wants a financial chunk in this gathering. And then, guess who shows up at the door, but Robbie-with-Bama-on-his-ass. He wants to contribute to the party so he can try and make himself look good to Narcissa’s parents, who are going to have a cow. They’re going to literally birth one together. I don’t know how.”

He kneels on the edge of the bed, moves my paperwork and laptop aside, then wraps his arms around my knees and gives a good tug. I gasp as I fall back, and his head finds my stomach. He nuzzles his face into my thick sweater dress and purrs like a cat.

I laugh, my hand finding his hair.

“And then what?”

“And then Mayor Richardson.” His voice is muffled as he wraps his arms around my thighs. “Now we have more humans attending this farce. Political and important ones.”

This all sounds like a comedy to me, but I keep my thoughts to myself. He’s clearly exasperated. I stroke through his hair, enjoying the feel of the satin blond strands between my fingers. I let my fingertips trip over the back of his neck, down his spine, my touch light and, hopefully, comforting.

He doesn’t move his face from my stomach, but I feel him shiver as I find the small of his back. There’s just the smallest bit of skin showing, and I stroke my fingers across it. His arms tense around me, but he doesn’t move. It feels like he’s holding his breath as I slowly peel the undershirt up, baring more skin, pulled taut over his muscles.

He’s so strong.

Not just physically, although, good gracious, he’s made of marble.

He’s having to deal with a whole world I know very little about, and yet the most frustrated he’s acted is just to bury his face in my dress and groan. I’m sorry to hear that little aggravated sound as I slowly caress his lower back and work my way up. I’m not skilled at this at all, but I roll my hands, guiding them down and then back up, adding just a bit of pressure as his shirt rides higher.

“Kenzie?” I ask, hearing him groan again. “Is this okay? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be pulling your shirt up. I just thought it might help you relax.”

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles into my dress, then turns his face so he can breathe. “But it isn’t helping me relax.”

“Oh. I…” I’m not sure what to say. I meant to help him relax, not stress him out more. I move my hands away from him. He shifts and lifts his face, looking up at me from my ribs. His green eyes are dark, so very dark, and rimmed with scarlet.

“Don’t stop,” he repeats, the tips of his fangs showing.

“You’re hungry!”

“Starving. And you smell like you had pork chops and applesauce for dinner. But don’t stop.”

“I don’t understand,” I whisper.

“I think you do.”

He pushes himself up (oh my gosh, look at those biceps and those shoulders!) and sits, eyes burning into me. He doesn’t say anything, but reaches back, grabs the hem of his undershirt, and manages to pull it off with one hand. I didn’t realize that was a thing men can actually do. I thought it was only in the movies. And now I have a shirtless, hungry vampire sitting on my bed, his head cocked to the side, an eyebrow arched, and a smile tugging at his weary face.

“Snoopy socks?” he asks.

“They’re comfortable,” I whisper. I know my eyes are huge. I’ve got the Sexiest Man Alive sitting by my feet. I swear, I can almost see his pecs glowing. His abs are a work of art, and the blond hair dusting everything, leading a trail down… goodness, down into the waist of his pants. Eyes up! Eyes up, Heather! Good lord.

“Hmm.” He reaches down, his eyes never leaving mine, and hooks his fingers into both socks. “I don’t think Snoopy needs to be a part of any of this.” He tugs the socks off and tosses them somewhere near his discarded shirts. I don’t know where they went. I don’t care where they went.

“I am hungry,” he says quietly. “But I like when you touch me. I like when you aren’t afraid. Your touch does comfort me, and I would like you to touch me again, please.”

“Your back?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Anywhere you like. I saw you staring.” He chuckles and takes my hand, placing it against his abs. I can’t help but look at those ridged muscles, at the flat of his stomach and the veins showing through his skin. Oh my go… “My eyes are up here, baby.”

I watch my hand slide up the path between his abs, up to his sternum. He hasn’t moved his eyes from mine, and I think they’re getting darker somehow. I sit up, matching his position, both startled and thrilled when his muscles twitch beneath my touch. I guide my hand across his left pectoral, feeling his heart beating beneath my fingertips, a steady, fast rhythm.

I wish I could think of something to say. I’m feeling this man up on my bed. I’ve got to do better than just stare in amazement and touch him like he’s some sort of statue or something. He’s flesh and blood, and I’m treating him like a science experiment.

I sit up a little higher as I press my hand above his heart.

“You need to eat.”

“When you’re ready,” he says quietly.

My fingertips trace his collarbone on their own, like they’re possessed. I lean forward, trying to let my instincts act for me, and press a kiss to the skin pulled tight over bone. Somehow, without thinking too much about it, I know he’s holding his breath. I kiss him again, once more, then part my lips and gently draw his skin into my mouth. I can feel his collarbone beneath my teeth, and I’m careful, wondering what in the world I’m doing here.

I pull back, ashamed of myself, and scoot to the head of the bed. I try to draw my knees up to my chin, remember I don’t have pants, and tuck my legs beneath me.

“I can offer you my wrist again,” I say, struggling to get the words out. My heart is beating so fast. “I know you need to eat.”

“You can or you will offer me your wrist?” His voice is low, and I swallow.

“I’m not ready for my neck,” I whisper.

“Then your neck isn’t an option.”

I can feel his fingers gliding over my calf, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from his.

“Is there somewhere else you might like to try?”

“I don’t…what?” My brain isn’t working. This is getting embarrassing.

“Somewhere you’ve mentioned before? Somewhere, maybe, that’s made you change your position?”

Change my position? I glance down. Oh. My legs aren’t curled up under me anymore. They’ve somehow moved in front of me, bent at the knees, arched in a way that gives him a full view of my skin all the way up to almost an indecent height. And they’re…Gosh! How on earth did they manage to part even just a little bit like that?

All right. End of scene. I’m in over my head. I’m going to go pull on some pants, right now, trot downstairs into the kitchen like a good girl and pull out some frozen steaks or corned beef from the freezer and let McKenzie suck the bags dry.

I close my legs, start to swing them over the side of the bed.

“Heather.”

One word. One voice. One man. Well, vampire. And one me very much wanting to continue this. One me very much wanting to understand the insane butterflies in my stomach and the scorching heat, well, there. The way my legs are trembling.

“Don’t be afraid to ask for what you want. The worst thing that will happen is I’ll say no,” he says softly.

How is he always so calm? I’m about to jump out of my skin, and his voice is so level!

“I’ll feel guilty,” I rush. “We shouldn’t…I shouldn’t.”

“You shouldn’t what?”

“Want this!”

“And what is this?”

I close my eyes, fight back every inclination to keep my mouth shut and hide behind silence. I shouldn’t say a word. I shouldn’t tell the truth. I should hide what I want and how I feel behind propriety, and religion, and some terrible sense of uncertainty and lack of confidence and…

“I want to feel your fangs against my thigh.”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are blazing into me like emerald flames, and still he stays quiet. Waiting.

“I…” Oh sweet heavens. “I want you to feed from the inside of my thigh, up… up where my hip meets my thigh.”

“I can’t bite you there.” His voice is soft, kind. “Your femoral artery would be too dangerous. Sexy as hell, but dangerous. You are brave to voice your want, though. Let’s find a safer place, together.” His hand glides smoothly over my leg, over my knee, up my thigh. He taps his fingers lower on my inner thigh. “Here.” He keeps his eyes on mine. “Still intimate. Still sexy. Much safer.”

“Oh gosh, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I try to turn my face away, but he catches my chin.

“No hiding, Heath. You voiced what you wanted. I want it, too.”

“My blood,” I say with a nod.

“No. Not just your blood.”

He glides both hands up the insides of my legs, stroking my skin. It feels so good. So absolutely amazing. I almost can’t think about how indecent this is, at how bold it was for me to ask for anything to start with. Almost.

“You are amazing, Heather.” His voice is a low croon as he adds some pressure with his thumbs, massaging the insides of my legs like this is just another day for him, not a life-altering experience for me. “Your talent and creativity floor me.” He leans down and kisses my left knee, then my right. “Your silly little tendencies are endearing. How you lift your glasses up your nose with a pinkie. How you ramble on about history. The very essence of who you are makes me hungry for you, not just your blood.”

He’s gliding his nose and lips up my leg now, past the curve of my knee, into the soft skin he’s stroking. I’m overheating, and I’m nervous he’s not the only one sweating right now. I’ve never had anybody anywhere near where his mouth is. He’s not moving it from my thigh, but his breath is warm over my skin, and the feel of him is overwhelming.

“But there’s more that I like about you than just your character and your soul.”

I jump when he parts his lips against my leg and lightly grazes his fangs there. He chuckles and shakes his head, hair brushing my skin.

“I like that you constantly change your hair color. I love that I can’t tell if your eyes are blue or green half the time.” He moves his hands beneath my thighs and tugs me again, bringing me in closer. My feet are resting against the sides of his ribs, and his head… I look to my door, half expecting Oma to appear and gasp with mortification. Although, with how much she likes Kenzie, she’d probably just shake her head and shut the door. Except that the door’s already shut.

“You smell like juniper and Savannah, if Savannah had a smell. I like everything about you, from the scar at your lip to the slenderness of your body. These legs alone could kill me.”

“I’m not skinny,” I stammer, then yelp when he flicks his tongue against my skin.

“You’re just right for me. I don’t require a three-inch gap between your thighs. I just require the opening you’ve given me now.”

My entire face ignites.

He looks up, smirks, and rests his cheek against my raised knee for just a heartbeat.

“Look at you,” he says, fangs flashing. “So damn beautiful.”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper.

He takes my hand, kisses it, and shakes his head.

“We’re going to work on your confidence, Heath. But for now.” He glances down at my bared thighs. “Do you really want me feeding from the inside of your thigh? Are you sure? You’re blushing like you’ve dropped the metaphorical towel and are completely naked.”

That brings to mind images of him in a towel.

Shoot.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Okay what? Verbalize for me, baby.”

I nod, clear my throat, and try again.

“I want you to feed from inside my thigh. I’m nervous about your bite. Will it feel different from when you fed from my wrist?”

“It will,” he says quietly, kissing the inside of my knee. “Which is something else we need to talk about, because I want you to understand. Your wrist was an intimate spot because you offered it to me, not because your wrist itself was necessarily sacred. The inside of your thigh is much closer to other erogenous zones that are capable of bringing you intense pleasure.”

He winks, and the red in my face deepens to another shade.

“This is far more private, far more of a surrender on your part. You’ll have to trust me not only to stop feeding, but you’ll have to trust me with your body.”

“Will I… uh… oh gosh.” I’m strongly tempted to grab a pillow and hide my face, but then I know McKenzie will stop. He’ll just stop. He’ll scoot back on the bed and absolutely starve himself because I’m too nervous to go through with this.

“Do you really want this?” he asks. “Or are you just wanting to feed me?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “I want to feel you there.”

“Then yes, you might climax again. And it’s very, very possible you won’t be alone there.”

“Oh gosh, Kenzie. This is such an odd conversation.”

“Not really.” He smiles. “I’ve trusted you with the biggest event of the year. I’ve basically given you all my faith. I’m not uncomfortable with my body and what I want, but I am anxious about this vampire gathering, and I’ve given it to you to handle. You’re uncomfortable with your body and what it naturally can do. I want you to understand what you’re asking for, what could happen. Now that I think you have a clear understanding, I can skip ahead to the fun part.” He puts a hand on my calf and strokes it. “You give me your trust on this, and I think you’ll be transported to another dimension. You’ve teleported me through time and space with your imagination. Let me take you somewhere else.”

“Please,” I manage to say.

“It’ll be my pleasure.”

He stretches out on the bed, kisses a slow, tingling path up the inside of my leg, then parts his lips and sinks his fangs into my thigh.