He snorted. "I did a lot more than sleep."
"Oh my God!" She jumped out of bed.
"Oh, come on." He rose to his feet with an indignant look. "You think I would have sex with you while you were sleeping?"
"I was dead, Phil. That makes it really creepy."
He gave her an incredulous look. "How can you believe I would do that?"
She plucked at her T-shirt. "You changed my clothes."
"Well, yes. But I tried not to look." His gaze drifted south and his mouth curled up.
His attempt had obviously failed. She waved a hand to snap him out of the dreamy-eyed trance he'd fallen into. "Hey! Pervert!"
That got his attention. He stiffened and his eyes flashed with anger. "I didn't molest you, Vanda."
She pointed at the bed. "You changed my sheets."
"I had to. They were covered with…stuff."
She gasped again.
"Not mine," he growled. "Now, sit down and listen."
She remained standing so she could glare at him. When she crossed her arms over her chest, the soreness made her wince.
His annoyed expression changed into concern. "Are you all right? I checked for broken bones and you seemed okay, but I was worried you might have some cracked ribs."
Her skin chilled with goose bumps. "What happened—" A hunger pain slammed into her gut, nearly doubling her over. The room swirled around.
"Hold on." Phil scrambled across the bed and caught her by the shoulders.
"No." She pulled away and stumbled, nearly falling down. He smelled too good, with his blood coursing rapidly through his veins. Her gums tingled. "I need to eat."
Her hunger was always strongest when she first awoke. She weaved toward the foot of the bed and recognized the scent of blood. Strange blood, not human.
"Vanda." Phil grabbed her arm. "You're too weak. Lie down, and I'll bring you some breakfast."
Another hunger pain shot through her, and she wrenched herself away. "Dammit, Phil. Get away from me or you'll be my breakfast." She lunged around the end of the bed.
"Aaack!" She stumbled back.
Phil caught her from behind, clasping her upper arms.
There on the floor were her purple sheets. And in the middle was a pile of bloody cut-up snake. Her purple pajamas lay in the pile, slimy with snake guts and blood.
She struggled to breathe. Her body started to shake.
"Don't worry," Phil said behind her. "It can't hurt you anymore."
The room spun around, a room filled with snake guts and horrific imaginings. Her knees buckled, and Phil swung her up into his arms.
"Vanda?" The bedroom door swung open to reveal Cora Lee in a pale pink nightgown, holding a glass of synthetic blood. "Oh, I didn't you realize you had comp—" Her gaze dropped to the mutilated snake. "Eek!" Her glass tumbled to the floor, spilling blood as it went.
"Why on earth is everyone screaming?" Pamela barged inside. "Aack!" Her teacup fell to the floor, too.
Vanda covered her mouth as her stomach churned. She'd never experienced such an awful mixture of hunger and nausea at the same time.
"Go back into the living room," Phil ordered her friends as he carried her to the door. "Can you fix Vanda some breakfast? She's very weak."
"Of course." Pamela rushed back to the kitchen, her long blue nightgown rustling around her legs. Cora Lee followed close behind.
While they warmed up more synthetic blood in the microwave, Phil settled Vanda on the leather couch.
He sat beside her. "Are you all right?"
She shook her head. She closed her eyes, but the image of the cut-up snake was still in her head.
"Here, dear." Pamela pressed a warm mug into her trembling hands. "This will soon have you feeling up to snuff."
Vanda took a small sip of bland Type O. When it didn't threaten to come right up, she took another sip.
Cora Lee sat across from them in the blue upholstered chair and drank from her new glass of synthetic blood. "Now what in tarnation is going on?"
Vanda shuddered. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. Phil stretched an arm across the back of the couch and patted her shoulder.
"Indeed. We must be apprised of the situation forthwith." Pamela sank gracefully into the matching blue chair. As a Vamp dating back to Regency England, she preferred her blood in a dainty teacup. She took a sip and returned the cup to the saucer with a little clink. "And we must brace ourselves, ladies, for I fear whatever events occurred here were horrid. Simply horrid."
Cora Lee shivered. "That's Max the Mega Member's snake in there, isn't it?"
"Yes," Phil replied quietly.
Vanda shifted on the couch to face him. "Max tried to kill me?" His gaze met hers, and her heart melted at the tender look in his blue eyes. She had no doubt he'd saved her life. Again. He was as brave and noble as any of the fairy-tale heroes she'd read about as a child. The type of hero she'd given up on ever existing in the real world.
With a smile, he tousled her short hair. Then, he shifted his gaze to her friends. "When I woke up this morning, I realized you would be coming here for your death-sleep, and Max would have an opportunity to do Vanda some harm. I arrived just after sunrise, and the guard in the lobby was in a deep sleep, caused by vampire mind control. I knew that Max had been here."
Vanda shuddered, and Phil gave her shoulder a squeeze.
"But we never saw him," Cora Lee protested.
"I believe he was hiding with his snake in the coat closet." Phil motioned to the closet by the front door. "After you came in, and he heard you retire to your rooms, he let the snake out, cracked open Vanda's door, and teleported back to his place."
"Leaving that horrid snake to deliver the deadly vengeance he so craved," Pamela added dramatically. Her hand shook, and the teacup clattered against the saucer.
"Land sakes," Cora Lee whispered.
Phil looked at Vanda and rubbed her shoulder. "I found the snake coiling itself around your body."
"Oh God." She covered her mouth as a wave of nausea swept through her.
"I cut off the head first, but the rest of the snake was continuing to squeeze you, so I hacked it into pieces as fast as I could." He gave her an apologetic look. "I tried not to cut you, but I was…in a hurry and the snake was so tight against you that I nicked you a few times. And then there was all the—"
"You don't have to explain." Vanda grimaced. She'd seen the pile of guts and blood. She'd seen how awful her pajamas looked. And she knew her body had been squeezed too tightly. Even with the healing power of death-sleep, she was still sore.
"I didn't want to leave you lying in all that mess," Phil continued, "so I tried to clean you up. And the bed, too."
Vanda nodded. "I understand."
"I took the shower curtain from your bathroom and piled everything nasty on top," he said. "Then I cleaned up the carpet and the walls—"
"Walls?" Pamela asked.
Phil winced. "I was throwing the snake parts as fast as I could cut them up."
"Lord have mercy," Cora Lee whispered.
Vanda tried to shut out the terrifying images that flitted through her mind, but she couldn't.
"I was really…upset," Phil admitted with a frown, "so I took the snake's head and went in search of Max."
Vanda swallowed hard. "Did you find him?"
"He was in his apartment in his death-sleep." Phil stared into space, scowling.
Cora Lee leaned forward, her eyes wide. "What did you do to him?"
Phil took a deep breath. "I left the snake head on the pillow next to Max and turned his head so it would be the first thing he would see when he woke up. Then I wrote a note that told him if he ever came near Vanda again, I would kill him."
Cora Lee slumped with a sigh. "That's all?"