Undead 11, Undead and Unstable - MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,6

a gag gift: it had a navy background and the standard physician’s eye chart in white. “Read the second line from the bottom” … like that. “Because, my heart, you so rarely think of yourself as our queen.”

“Huh?” The tie had surprised me; I wasn’t the only one missing Marc, and should try harder to keep that in mind. “Oh, right, why I should’ve tried the command thing first.”

“Yes indeed, my own. You should have.”

“Really, Sink Lair?” I rolled over and glared at him. “Are you really gonna compound your gross evil errors by lecturing me into a boredom coma and then not helping me up?”

“Oh, never.” He smiled and stuck out his hand. “As your subject and your husband and your cosovereign—”

“How can you be my subject and my cosovereign?”

“—lecturing you is my prerogative, and only mine. Unless, of course, you count your dear mother. Or Jessica. Or—”

“Please make it stop,” I begged no one in particular. I grabbed his outstretched hand and used it to haul myself to my feet. It might have been how Jack felt climbing the beanstalk. Sinclair was really tall. Climbing him to the top took forever. “And in case you didn’t hear all my yelling—”

“All of St. Paul heard it, darling.”

“I hate you, you treacherous jerk.”

“Ah, but I love you, my dearest queen.”

“You should save time,” I threatened, “and make up one of the sofas now as opposed to waiting until dawn.”

“How is it outside?” he asked, a rare look on his face. It took me a second to place it. Nostalgic? No. Wistful. Yeah, that was it. Sinclair had grown up on a farm some fifteen decades ago (or however long ago he’d lived before he’d died, I could never remember), and missed sunshine like I missed a new spring collection the autumn before. “Is it very cold?”

“Sure, but I’m always cold.” I instantly forgave him his asshat-ery. I tried not to take for granted the things I could do that no other vampire could, but I messed it up sometimes. Sure, I was constantly bitching to myself the whole time I was looking for shovels and racing away from a canine lynch mob, but at least I could go out. At least I could stand in a backyard during the day and ponder which tree to inter my cat beneath. At least I could be snuck up on by sneaky dumb dogs in broad daylight. At least I could feel the sun on my face and not burst into flames.

Sinclair, though … my husband was the strongest vampire I knew (also the sexiest, and most irritating), but he couldn’t do any of those things.

I’m not sure what you’re up to, God, but some of it seems pretty mean. Why don’t you lay off for a while?

I still prayed. Sure I did.

I just wasn’t sure anyone was listening anymore.

FIVE

After sulking for three hours and twenty minutes, I decided Sink Lair should bang me. Because I realized that five minutes into my 3.20 sulk I was probably punishing myself more. So I begrudgingly accepted his apology, then let him fuck my brains loose.

That oughta learn him.

“Ummmm,” the vampire said sometime later.

“Yeah, what you said. Ummm, I agree. One of these days we’re gonna really hurt each other. Or break the bed again. Or not be paying attention and break the window again, and then fall out of the window. Again. Thank goodness the sun was down.” I shuddered … Jessica had had a complete hormonal meltdown over the broken window, claiming that The Belly That Ate the World would one day be playing in the yard, and she wouldn’t stand for him toddling over broken glass. No one dared argue, or point out that of course by then we’d have the glass cleaned up … no. Nope. We’d all fled, my husband leading the charge. Wise man. We were the king and queen of the undead, and we were scared to death of a skinny woman who was maybe 101 pounds dripping wet … when she wasn’t gestating, anyway.

“You’re still chilled.” He propped himself up on an elbow and stroked my back. I’d sort of passed out facedown right around the time my third orgasm raced through my limbs. Chilled? Numb? Satiated? Freaked? Still smelling dog? Yeah.

“I forgot. Or never noticed.” It could be either … since I’d died the first time, I was always cold. It was impossible to look sexy in wool knee socks, by the way. Scarlett Johansson could not