Last Breath by Rachel Caine, now you can read online.
Chapter One
CLAIRE
Shane's lips felt like velvet against the nape of her neck, and Claire shivered in delight as his breath warmed the skin there. She leaned back against him with a sigh. Her boyfriend's body felt solid and safe, and his arms went around her, wrapping her in comfort. He was taller than she was, so he had to bend to rest his chin on her shoulder and whisper, "You sure about this?"
Claire nodded. "You got the overdue notice, didn't you? It's this or they come to collect. You don't want that."
"Well, you don't have to be here," he pointed out - not for the first time today. "Don't you have classes?"
"Not today," she said. "I had an oh-my-God a.m. lab, but now I'm all done."
"Okay, then, you don't have to do this because you're tax-exempt."
By tax-exempt, he meant that she didn't have to pay . . . in blood. Taxes in Morganville were collected three ways: the polite way, via the collection center downtown, or the not-so-polite way, when the Bloodmobile showed up like a sleek black shark at your front door, with Men in Black - style "technicians" to ensure you did your civic duty.
The third way was by force, in the dark, when you ventured out un-Protected and got bitten.
Vampires. A total pain in the neck - literally.
Shane was entirely right: Claire had a legal document that said she was free from the responsibility of donations. The popular wisdom - and it wasn't wrong - was that she'd already given enough blood to Morganville.
Of course, so had Shane . . . but he hadn't always been on the vampires' side, at the time.
"I know I don't have to do it," she said. "I want to. I'll go with."
"In case you're worried, I'm not girly-scared or anything."
"Hey!" She smacked his arm. "I'm a girl. What exactly are you saying? That I'm not brave or something?"
"Eeek," Shane said. "Nothing. Right, Amazon princess. I get the point."
Claire turned in his arms and kissed him, a sweet burst of heat as their lips met. The lovely joy of that released a burst of bubbles inside her, bubbles full of happiness. God, she loved this. Loved him. It had been a rough year, and he'd . . . stumbled, was the best way she could think of it. Shane had dark streaks, and he'd struggled with them. Was still struggling.
But he'd worked so hard to make it up - not just to her, but to everyone he felt he'd let down. Michael, his best (vampire) friend. Eve, his other (nonvampire) best friend (and Claire's best friend, too). Even Claire's parents had gotten genuine attention: he'd gone with her to see them twice, with exit permission from the vampires, and he'd been earnest and steady even under her father's stern cross-examination.
He wanted to be different. She knew that.
When the kiss finally ended, Shane had a drugged, vague look in his eyes, and he seemed to have trouble letting go of her. "You know," he said, moving her hair back from her cheek with a big, warm hand, "we could just blow this off and go home instead of letting them suck our blood. Try it tomorrow."
"Bloodmobile," she reminded him. "People holding you down. You really want that?"
He shuddered. "Hell, no. Okay, right, after you." They were standing on the sidewalk of Morganville's blood bank, with its big cheerful blood-drop character sign and scrupulously clean public entrance. Claire pecked him lightly on the cheek, escaped before he could pull her close again, and pushed the door open.
Inside, the place looked like they'd given it a makeover - more brightly, warmly lit than the last time she'd been in, and the new furniture looked comfortable and homey. They'd even installed a tank full of colorful tropical fish flitting around living coral. Nice. Clearly, the vampires were trying to put forth their best efforts to reassure the human community, for a change.
The lady sitting behind the counter looked up and smiled. She was human, and sort of motherly, and she pulled Claire's records and raised her thin, graying eyebrows. "Oh," she said. "You know, you're entirely paid up for the year. There's no need - "
"It's voluntary," Claire said. "Is that okay?"
"Voluntary?" The woman repeated the word as if it were something from a foreign language. "Well, I suppose . . ." She shook her head, clearly thinking Claire was mental, and turned her smile on Shane. "And you, honey?"
"Collins," he said. "Shane Collins."
She pulled out his card, and up went the eyebrows again. "You are definitely not paid up, Mr. Collins. In fact, you're sixty days behind. Again."
"I've been busy." He didn't crack a smile. Neither did she.
She stamped his card, wrote something on it, and returned it to the file, then handed them both slips of paper. "Through the door," she said. "Do you want to be in the room together or separately?"