A Vampiric Kiss
Isabella said suddenly, flipping the page with a little too much annoyance, “if this man groans one more time in italics, I swear I’m setting the book on fire.”
I laughed. “That’s why I read nonfiction.”
“No,” she said, pointing the book at me, “you read herb manuals and death folklore,you weirdo.”
“Which is technically nonfiction.”
“It’s also technically disturbing.”
I shrugged. “Says the woman who dreams about blood and keeps sleeping with the broody man in the woods.”
She threw a pillow at me. I let it hit me in the face because I deserved that one.
“So,” she said, drawing the word out while blowing gently on her tea, “what’s the real reason for this late-night girls’ night? You never inv
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