Billy Jean heard the door next door click shut and knew Michael Joke had ducked into the adjacent room.

  Leaving her high and dry…

  Well, a rotting corpse high and dry.

  She had no clue what Michael Joke was plotting.

  He didn’t ice her, didn’t cut her loose.

  Her brain was slower than molasses these days, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out his angle.

  What was he playing at?

  Ah, well.

  She’d just roll with it.

  If he offed her, she might even thank him.

  Billy Jean was still sprawled on the ground, hogtied to the chair.

  With her body stiffer than a board, there was no way she was getting up.

  "Dang it! He didn’t even give me a hand. Just left me, a delicate flower, lying here. That guy was losing his gentlemanly charm by the second. I had a hot date with my vampire gal pals last night to hit the clubs and scope out guys. Heard there were some new hunks on the east side of town. Now, how am I supposed to have any fun like this? That jerk Michael Joke is really cramping my style."

  Billy Jean didn’t know Michael Joke in the next room could still hear her thoughts and was now seeing red.

  “Very well.”

  His palm crackled with thunder power, and with one smack, he pulverized a table.

  “Boom…”

  Billy Jean’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the ruckus next door.

  Wait a sec, her heart was supposed to be as cold as ice.

  What was there to be spooked about?

  Time to hit the hay.

  Billy Jean shut her eyes and zonked out like a log.

  Well, she was a walking corpse, after all.

  Late at night, the city was like a beast lurking in the shadows.

  Full of peril.

  Not a soul in sight on the streets.

  Broken glass, rubble, and bloodstains were everywhere.

  The vampires were having a field day under the moonlight.

  They were extra feisty at night, tearing up every nook and cranny.

  Plus, Billy Jean hadn’t eaten a thing today.

  She was as ravenous as a wolf.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Her cloudy eyes flared red in the dark.

  Red streaks crept up her neck, looking downright spooky.

  “Boom…”

  The ropes binding her snapped like twigs.

  Billy Jean sprang up, nimble as a cat.

  She was a different beast at night compared to daytime.

  At night, she could scale walls and leap rooftops like it was nobody’s business.

  She cranked her neck left and right, cracking it like knuckles, and flashed a wicked grin.

  In the next room, Michael Joke jolted awake on the big bed and tumbled out.

  He flung open the door and saw Billy Jean’s room door yawning wide open.

  His heart did a somersault.

  He stepped in and all he saw were the busted ropes and the toppled chair.

  Billy Jean was not fully recovered yet.

  Michael Joke clenched his fists.

  Anger flared in his eyes.

  She had the nerve to sneak out and party.

  Billy Jean, you’ve got some gall.

  Just then, a shadow dropped from above Michael Joke’s head, and he was tackled.

  The next second, his wrist was sliced by a sharp blade.

  Something cold pressed against it, and warm blood whooshed down her throat.

  It all happened in a blink.

  Michael Joke didn’t have time to react.

  No, he never expected Billy Jean to ambush him, and be so darn agile, nothing like her daytime self.

  Michael Joke’s eyes darkened.

  Thunder power swirled in his palm, and he swung at Billy Jean’s shoulder.

  A slippery something brushed his wrist.

  Michael Joke’s fist tightened like a vise, as if he’d been zapped, and his swing halted.

  Struggle flashed in his eyes.

  Then he shut them, lowered his hand, and let Billy Jean suck his blood.

  His body was hot, hers ice-cold.

  In the dark, they were tangled up.

  All you could hear was the “gurgle, gurgle” of swallowing.

  Tasty, umm... so tasty.

  Billy Jean’s inner restlessness ebbed away, and she made a mental vow.

  "I’m sticking with Michael Joke for good. Anyone tries to poach my food source, I’ll take them down."

  Michael Joke’s eyes snapped open, a glimmer in them.

  He pinched Billy Jean’s chin and stared into her faintly red-glowing eyes in the dark, growling,

  “What did you just say? Say it again.”

  Billy Jean shook her head, impatient.

  “Let me go, I’m feeding.”

  “You don’t spill it, I won’t let you chow down.”

  Billy Jean looked at Michael Joke like he’d lost his marbles.

  "Say what? Anyone tries to poach my food source, I’ll take them down?"

  “No, the other one.”

  Billy Jean was confused.

  "I’m sticking with Michael Jokefor good?"

  Michael Joke nodded.

  “Yes, stay close.”

  Billy Jean:??

  After that exchange, even with her slow wits, Billy Jean twigged that Michael Joke could hear her thoughts.

  Michael Joke seemed in a chipper mood and offered his wrist to Billy Jean.

  “Drink up, don’t waste it.”

  Billy Jean didn’t have time to mull over his odd behavior.

  Her cold lips clamped on and started “gurgle, gurgle” guzzling.

  Her restlessness melted away, and a power surge streamed into her body, mending her flesh.

  Her sunken chest was filling out, her broken leg bones knitting together, and fresh skin budding on the rotten bits.

  Truth was, vampires evolved by scarfing down flesh and blood.

  Billy Jean was so far gone mainly because she was picky and wouldn’t touch fresh meat.

  She only sipped a bit of blood when desperate.

  Her finicky eating habits made her look more tattered than other vampires.

  If not for her immortality, she’d probably be the first vampire to starve to death.

  Michael Joke’s hand stroked Billy Jean’s hair, soft as seaweed.

  Back in the day, he loved waking up before her.

  He’d just caress her hair and wait for her to stir, because when she did, she’d plant a sweet kiss and greet him with a smile that could light up his day.

  But just when he thought they’d live happily ever after, reality sucker-punched him.

  Billy Jean still had some self-control.

  She knew she couldn’t drain her food source in one go.

  Once she’d slaked her hunger, she stopped sucking.

  She clasped Michael Joke’s hand and licked his wrist wound with the tip of her tongue, as reverent as a worshipper at an altar.

  Michael Joke’s fingertips quivered.

  He dropped his gaze to hide his feelings.

  Miraculously, the wound Billy Jean licked healed lickety-split.

  In a flash, it was gone, not a scar in sight.

  It was like it had never happened.

  Michael Joke rubbed his smooth wrist, a look of mild shock on his face.

  Billy Jean’s spit had healing mojo.

  Then…

  Michael Joke’s eyes slid to her rotten arm.

  Billy Jean could read his mind and glared at him.

  “Don’t make me hurl on you.”

  “Cough, cough…”

  Michael Joke cleared his throat and looked away.

  Billy Jean glanced at her rotten arm.

  “Ugh…”

  The blood she’d just drunk was threatening to come up.

  Billy Jean clamped her mouth shut and swallowed hard.

  Michael Joke:!