Fangs for Nothing (The Nevermore Murder Club and Smutty Book Coven 1)

by Steffanie Holmes

You can be my Republic of Ireland, since lookin’ at you my penis is Dublin.”

It’s the kind of kiss that Taylor Swift would write a hit song about.

Strawberries and sunlight. The taste of her.

It’s been so long since I’ve felt the warmth of a body pressed to my skin.

“We love romance novels, too. Especially the smutty kind.”

It’s him.

He’s my new boss.

Reginald, I am going to destroy you.

Nothing about this house or this job or my new boss makes sense.

Why would a young, beautiful toff lock himself away in this castle like a vampire hiding from the light?

To work with hot lords— I mean, to save someone else from having to live the way I grew up, drowning beneath piles of rubbish.

Actually, he did talk about paint drying for a bit. It was surprisingly hot.

I like it when he laughs.

Just because he saved you last night doesn’t mean he cares about you.

I am not used to kindness from humans. I am not used to the way her kindness makes me feel.

Before I started to imagine all the forbidden things I’d like to do to her …

Through the haze of strawberry, I smell something else – his hunger, his desperation. I hate it, but it’s necessary. I need Reginald as much as he has come to need me.

All that separates him and me is my high walls and my thin veneer of control.

And Winnie Preston has proven that she can shatter my defences in a single evening.

Alaric may enjoy his medieval trappings, but I’m thankful that his coffee machine is modern and expensive and runs on glorious electricity and not steam power or five guinea pigs on a treadmill.

This is the universe punishing you for moaning against your client’s lips.

Mina’s husband being named after Wuthering Heights’s swoony gothic villain.

“I mean on account of he’s a vampire.” The girls fall silent.

“Lord Valerian’s definitely a bloodsucker,” says Beth with a laugh. “And a sexy one at that.”

“He can sample my O negative any time he likes,” says Beth.

That’s me. The woman is me.

With his lips. His cool, kissable lips that I’m absolutely, definitely not thinking about right now …

As Arabella leads the group in a lively discussion about Butcher & Blackbird,

But when the night is filled with monsters, you need the worst monster of all on your side.

Lady Winifred, Countess of Clean. Did you enjoy the book club?”

He talks about Alaric as if they’re friends … Does Alaric have friends? And he chose this?

I want things no vampire should ever want from a human. I want things that will crumble my whole world to ashes.

Instead, I lean my back against her door. Every cry and moan that falls from her mouth renders me impotent.

A buzzing sound. I don’t understand what the buzzing can be at first, but then Winnie moans.

This moan is … is … … it’s the moan she made when I kissed her.

It’s the sound that has haunted me every night. It’s the moan that has undone me.

I want her so badly that I might have to stake myself through the heart just to keep her safe from me.

Usually, when I close the lid of my coffin, I am dead to the world. (That’s my little joke, since I am always dead to the world.)

I hear her come apart, her moans dissolving as the pleasure claims her body. My name bursting from her pretty lips.

When she’s here, Black Crag doesn’t feel like a prison, but a home.

At least, I used to think of my work. Now, my first thought upon waking is of her.

But he went out in the sun and made himself sick to save me.

But if she could be mine, then perhaps … … perhaps she deserves the truth?

Yes, ask me, beg me, whisper my name like an incantation.

If you knew the things I would do to you now in that chair, if only you would ask …

I want to see what Winnie Preston does with magic on her fingers.

Sweet Winnie, if you knew about my intentions for your body right now …

I want you. I want your name on my lips again as I drive you wild. I want to taste you. All of you. I want to make you mine.

I don’t know how much more I can take of Alaric’s storm-filled eyes before I wear out my favourite toy.

I want you to stop wriggling your derrière against me unless you want me to bury myself in it.