Hot Vampire Next Door: Season One (Midnight Harbor Book 1)

I decide against the jeans and pull out a short black bodycon skirt and an oversized vintage white tee. I put the clothes on and tuck the shirt into the skirt.

Back at my bedroom window, hand curled around my hip, I raise a brow and say to the phone, “Well?”

Bran’s eyes flash again, and my chest flutters with butterflies. He says nothing, and I get the question in his gaze.

I turn sideways so as not to give him a show and lift the hem of my skirt, baring my thigh all the way up to my hip.

“Good girl,” he says. “Behave yourself tonight.”

“I don’t plan on it,” I say back.

He smirks at me and ends the call. We stare at each other across the expanse between our houses.

It’s at this moment I realize he told me Damien would be at the party. Is Bran warning me again? Should I be worried?

I’ll be with Sam, and Harbor parties are notoriously packed. And I’ll be wearing the protection rune Mom gave me before I was old enough to know what it was.

It hasn’t failed me yet.

I turn away from the window, but I can feel Bran’s eyes on me until I disappear inside the bathroom again.

Once I’m safely out of sight, I press into the wall and suck in a deep breath. A voice in the back of my mind says I shouldn’t be playing these games with a vampire like Bran Duval.

But I can’t seem to help myself.

I never understood the adrenaline junkies I’ve seen on TV. Jump out of an airplane? No, thank you. Careen down a steep mountainside on nothing but two skis? Nope.

Tempt a vampire?

The rush is downright intoxicating.

Downstairs, I pour a glass of Kelly’s wine while I wait for Sam. My glass is empty by the time she shows up. As usual, she’s ten minutes late. We drive downtown, and Sam parks on a side street since all the good spots are taken.

By the time we walk down the slope to the water, the party is already well underway.

The Harbor sits at the end of the river where the freshwater meets the salty ocean. The building was built in 1901 and was originally the Guards’ water rescue station. They rebuilt on the north side of the river about ten years ago, so the original building was converted into a community space.

Mostly, it’s for weekend parties and Pledges now.

It’s a two-story building, clad in white cedar shake shingles. The window casings are painted hunter green, with the hardware and gutters pained black.

The front entrance is a thick, arched door.

Music wends out the open windows, and voices carry from the deck on the water.

Sam and I go in the front, and I tug down the hem of my skirt as some of the witches call out hello.

“Why do you keep fidgeting with your skirt?” Sam asks me as the witches come over.

I am, in no way, going to tell her I’m going commando because Bran Duval told me to. Just thinking about that confession brings heat to my face.

“It’s itchy,” I say instead. “I think Kelly forgot to use fabric softener.”

Bianca is the first witch to reach us and air kisses our cheeks. “Evening, dolls,” she says.

For most of my life, I’ve wanted to hate Bianca Mulligan. She’s tall, thin, blonde, rich, and extremely powerful. Everything about her screams mean girl, but while she knows she wields power and influence, she’s never acted like it matters to her.

She’s always been kind to me and to all the humans in Midnight. There’s just something about her that radiates warmth and charisma.

Bianca hooks her arm in mine. She towers over me by several inches despite the fact that she’s wearing flat heeled boots and I’m wearing chunky sneakers. “Jessie,” she says as she steers me to the bar. “Are you getting nervous yet for your Pledging?”

When we come up to the bar, the bartender is immediately at our call. That’s what hanging with Bianca will get you. “Jack and Coke,” Bianca says.

“Whiskey sour,” I say.

The bartender gets to work, and Bianca turns her attention to me.

This is the other thing I love about her. Though people are always vying for her attention, when Bianca is engaged in a conversation with someone, her focus is solely on that person. She knows how to make someone feel valued and important.

I’ve always wondered if that’s something she was taught or if it just comes naturally. I think in the long run, giving someone her full attention wins her more than her looks.

Except right now I want to squirm beneath her big green eyes.

When will I tell people I plan on leaving? I don’t know when the right time is.

I should probably say something before my Pledging. It’s scheduled for Tuesday night, the night of my birthday. But every time I think about telling someone, it makes my heart race and my hands clammy.

Everyone except for Bran, apparently. Somehow telling him a secret no one else knows feels like a token of intimacy.

“I’ll pledge to the Locke family,” I say. “Nothing really to be nervous about.”

“Hmm,” Bianca says as she rests an elbow on the bar top. “Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know. It’s what’s expected.”

She cants her head and frowns at me. “But not what you want.”

It isn’t a question, but I still don’t know how to answer her.

I’m saved by Sam. “What did you order?” she asks when she sidles up.

“Whiskey sour.”

“Caleb!” she calls to the bartender. “Can you add one more whiskey sour?”

“You got it,” he calls back.

The rest of the witches join us. There’s Gwen, Rita’s niece, and Lannie Lo.

Lannie nods at my bottom half. “I love the skirt.”

This reminds me that there’s nothing beneath that skirt, and my throat thickens around a reply. There’s a little part of me that feels…well, improper for going without panties, and I think that’s exactly what Bran intended.

Without thinking about it, I scan the crowd for him.

The sun has already set below the tree horizon, so the younger vampires have joined the party. Usually, you can tell when a Duval vampire is afoot because they’ll be surrounded by people who hang on their every word.

Those people are usually humans, and we call them the Besotted.

Not every human family in Midnight is Pledged to the super elite, but there are a lot who wished they were. There’s the power that comes with favor, and the money.

“Who are you looking for?” Sam asks as the bartender sets our drinks on the bar top.

“Oh, no one.” I grab my whiskey and drink it back. The alcohol burns down my throat and hits my bloodstream. I was already feeling a little warm with the wine, and now I’m downright fuzzy.

“Come on,” Bianca says and coaxes us out to the back deck.

Beneath the pergola, mixed groups have already claimed several tables beneath the twinkling string lights suspended from the rafters. Along the water, there are three separate sitting areas, the chairs situated around raised fire pits.

Fire crackles in all three pits, and we go to the gathering space on the far left.

“Bianca!” everyone calls out.

There are a few shifters—wolves, to be more specific—and two humans. One of them is a virgin. Tessa, I think her name is.

Sam and I go to the railing and lean against it. We’re quickly swept up into a debate about whether or not a virgin should be paid more for her blood the older she gets.

“Like a vintage wine,” Tessa says. “If I’m going to be a virgin for the rest of my life, I should get paid for my sexual frustration.”

Everyone laughs. My glass is nearly empty, and the alcohol is definitely going to my head. Everything is funny, especially this.

“I can’t imagine being a virgin forever,” I say.

Evan hangs back over his chair, and I can feel his eyes drinking me in. “That would be a travesty, Jess. A damn travesty.”

I warm beneath his gaze, and he scents the air, catching my faint interest.

Evan hasn’t taken a mate yet, and I gotta say, he’s looking sexy as hell in his navy-blue tank. I know he’s wearing that particular outfit so he can show off the heavy lifting he’s been doing, but I don’t care. His hard work is paying off.

As the night goes on, and the drinks keep flowing, and the twilight glows brighter, I find myself drifting toward Evan. Soon I’m sitting on his lap, my arm draped casually over his shoulders, his arms wrapped around me. His hand is on my bare leg, and I’m distantly aware that there’s not much material between his fingers and my core.

If he just inched up his hand…

He inhales again, and his gaze turns heavy. “Jess,” he purrs and readjusts us. I can feel him growing hard beneath me.

“Yes?” I say back as my drink sloshes over the rim of the glass and wets my t-shirt. Evan laughs. I laugh. “Dammit! That was gonna be a good sip.”

“I’ll get you another soon.” He pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear. “How come we’ve never hooked up?” he asks.

Voices rise in the distance, but I’ve got more important things to pay attention to.

“Because you’re a wolf,” I say.

“So?”

“So…my mom warned me about wolves.”

He laughs, his eyes catching a glint of the string lights. “I’m sure she didn’t mean me.”

“Oh no?”

“No.” He leans in, his hand cupping the side of my face. I go in to meet his mouth when a strong arm wraps around my waist and hauls me back.

I’m just about to fight the person when his scent fills my nose.

Amber and musk and something deeper.

By now, I know who that scent belongs to, and my body, being the traitor that it is, knows too.

Bran Duval.