Suckers: A Love Story with Bite

By Elle Driver

Get ready to sink your teeth into a world of vampire intrigue, passion, and danger with "Suckers: a Love Story with Bite". When living vampire Jessica Deadman meets her soulmate, her life takes an unexpected turn as she's thrust into the inner circle of Atlanta's vampire society. But with power struggles and hidden agendas lurking behind every corner, Jessica quickly realizes that she'll have to fight tooth and nail to uncover the truth and protect those she loves. With pulse-pounding suspense and sizzling romance, this is a story that will leave you thirsting for more. Don't miss out on the hottest vampire thriller of the year!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Apr 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781094460048

Elle Driver

Elle Driver is a mild-mannered civil servant who adores her husband and kid, and loves writing different romance tales to share with others when she can.

Book preview

1

The afternoon sun crept lazily into the half-opened blinds of the apartment. The Georgian weather was beginning to cool down, but it was still blessedly warm – that sweet spot where the warmth felt good, relaxing, instead of oppressive.

Jessica Deadman didn’t like the heat but she hated the cold, and the time between the two was just perfect. Sadly, it only seemed to last for a week in Georgia. She traced a circular pattern on her research notebook rather than opening it one more time to glance over part of the rough draft of her thesis paper. She was still tracing that same pattern, working at emptying her mind when her roommate, Charlene, burst into the door.

There’s a new baaar, Charlene sang happily, leaving their door ajar in her excitement. She danced her jiggling, round self into the kitchen, and Jessica peeled herself from the leather couch to slam the door shut. She had to curse her friend in more than one way as she noted for the thousandth time that the reason they even had a melty couch in the sticky warmth of the South was that it had been a donation from Char’s parents. Jessica gave her friend the death glare.

Oh, I’m sorry. All right? Char laughed, grabbing a juice box out of the fridge. They may have both been in their mid-twenties, but juice boxes were still as appealing as when they had been ten. And now they could buy as many as they wanted. But I’m just so excited, she squealed again. Jessica blinked at her roommate.

Charlene wore dark jeans, knee-high black boots, and a layered T-shirt. She was a curvaceous woman, like Jessica, but Jessica considered Char to be much more attractive. She already looked ready for the club.

I’m glad you’re so excited, Jessica drawled, scratching her stomach then looking at the thin marks she’d made on her brown skin. She needed lotion. And a shower. Probably the shower first. She lifted her arm to sniff her armpit. Definitely the shower first.

Well, you should be excited too! Charlene oozed. Shit, thought Jessica, unclipping her black hair and combing it back before whirling it up to clip again. Her hair was easily past her shoulders, but she hardly ever wore it down because it was so easy to wear it up. Down required real maintenance. Who wanted to do that?

And why should I be excited? Jessica finally asked. She already suspected the answer, of course. But the truth was it was hard for her to pretend to care some days. The apathy that had begun to sink in during graduate school had almost completely pervaded her mind by the end of the two years.

While watching The First 48 on A&E TV, Jessica often imagined her mind to be like a cup of coffee, and that unconcerned sentiment, that apathy, was milk slowly spreading and finally changing the entire drink. She had these reflections during the show because right on the little screen, she saw the insensitivity she felt matched the neat way the murder cases were wrapped up within an hour. And cops drank a hell of a lot of coffee.

Because one, it’s a new biter club, Charlene said excitedly. And two, you’re going!

I’m not going, Jessica said easily, turning away from Charlene, heading back to the couch, padding across the wooden floor silently. And I told you not to call vampires that.

Charlene knew that Jessica was a vampire. Kind of. She was a unique vampire. Because she was very much alive. She’d been infected while still inside of her mama’s belly. And as awful as vampires could be, humans or anything else with a conscience could be just as awful. She didn’t want them fetishized. She didn’t want herself to be fetishized. On any level. Charlene charged her from behind, playfully pushing her into the couch.

Come on, Charlene said. Every new place is a new opportunity for fun, for something exciting. You need a little bit of both. She looked over at her friend. Or maybe more than a little bit.

There will be annoying men, Jessica said as a last resort before Charlene could argue.

"There always are, but you are going, Charlene said solidly. Because we made a bet. And you lost. So you’re going!" Charlene’s face was flickering back and forth between its normal sunniness and a serious frown like a light switch was under her ear. Her ususal flushed look made her smile warmer, but it made her frown maniacal as her red cheeks and even redder lips lit up her blue eyes.

It was more frightening than any shady man, dead or alive, could be. In her lasting indifference, Jessica often found she rejected her ever impending doom with fits of self-destruction; these fits sometimes resulted in bets to do things she knew she’d hate. Like clubbing. And she’d lost the bet about her professor not hitting on her via notes on her thesis. He’d definitely been hitting on her.

So Jessica was going. Period.

Well, here we are, Jessica said dryly, lifting her arms dramatically at the tall, dark building. It was on Peachtree Street, so it was in a nice location. It was a bit secluded, tucked away amongst the small, crowded streets. The building was thrumming with the music and chatter of the club-goers. The line was filled with well-dressed men and lavish women. Jessica felt her chest compress as a tickle of nervousness coiled in her belly. She didn’t like extremely crowded places because she had this problem – a problem where, if she wasn’t careful, she could pick up people’s emotions, and if she wasn’t even more careful, she could project them onto someone else. Even multiple someone else’s. A crowd. It could be very dangerous. Or it could be nothing.

You know what, Char, Jessica suddenly said. This place looks really crowded. Maybe we should try another night?

Jessica hesitated for a second, but then pushed her feelings of wanting to leave at Charlene — gently, but insistently.

Yeah, Charlene, nodding and rubbing her arms as a soft breeze threw her hair into her face. Maybe we should — wait, no, she said suddenly, turning toward Jessica, frowning fiercely. "Did you just use that freaky feeling shit on me? You swore you wouldn’t use that bullshit on me!"

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Jessica yelled over Charlene, lifting her arms and trying to quiet her down. Look, we’re almost at the front! Charlene’s head whipped back toward the front, where the roped off entrance was being guarded by a very tall, very broad Black man.

Yeah, right, Charlene murmured. If by almost you mean twenty minutes at the least, sure, we’re almost there. Jessica decided not to push Charlene any further, considering she was the only friend she had that she could stand. And her roommate.

Jessica glanced down at her clothes as she gave a small shiver; she had on a black and red halter dress. The red part was the halter, hugging her breasts and wrapping around her neck like a bowed ribbon, tied on the side of her neck. The black part of the dress didn’t reach her knees and bunched up in silky ruching. She should have worn pants, but she’d only worn this dress once, for this past year’s New Year’s Eve. She wanted to give it some time out of the closet.

Still glancing at her bare knees and painted toes peeking out of her shoes, Jessica heard the bike almost as soon as it pulled up beside her. She jerked her head up and came face to face with a black helmet. She couldn’t see the eyes behind the visor, but she knew they were staring at her. She gave his entire body a sweep, and found her gaze resting on his gloved hands as they tightened. He struck a match within her, turning her on, just that easily, just that hot.

The rider was obviously male, dominating the large R1 with his long legs and wide shoulders. As they looked at each other over the five feet that separated them, Jessica felt a wave of… pleasure; it washed up her body and felt like the most intense foreplay she’d ever experienced. If she hadn’t felt naked before, now she really did. Her inner thighs and lower belly were embarrassingly tingly; her nipples were hard and reacting powerfully to the soft drag of the inside of her dress.

Hey, look at his bike, Jessica heard Charlene say faintly, though it was as if through cotton. You like those, right? Jess? Jessica couldn’t bother to turn her head to look at her friend, but she thought she nodded.

The man on the bike lifted his hand to the man guarding the door. He pointed at Jessica and then Charlene, with a tilt of his head, as if to ask Jessica, ‘is she with you?’ Jessica nodded slowly in answer. Her head felt heavy. All of her did. He returned the action in kind and pointed at the two of them with two of his fingers, tipping his head at the doorman. The doorman waved them ahead.

Let’s go, ladies. You’re in, the doorman boomed. Charlene glanced at Jessica and then the masked man, wildly, laughing excitedly and then grabbing Jessica, hauling her toward the door with continuous thank you, thank, thank yous.

Why didn’t you tell me about him? Charlene squealed as she continued to pull Jessica deeper into the club. They slid down a crowded hall with pink and silver wallpaper. The floor was checkered black and white and the sounds of feet and talking and laughing filled the hall. What’s his name?

I don’t know, because I don’t know him, Jessica yelled back, laughing. Her stomach was spiraling with the rush of butterflies. Getting noticed, that feeling he made her feel, slipping into the club as if she were special. Jessica curbed her smile as they broke into the large, open area of the club. The dance floor spread out in front of them, matching the black-and-white checkers from before. The lights were flashing and the music was vibrating her very bones. She loved the feeling of being overwhelmed.

Whoever he was, thank him because I love this song, Charlene screamed, tugging Jessica with her as a N. E. R. D. song suddenly blasted the writhing, bouncing dancers. Normally, when Jessica danced she liked to act a fool, but mid leg-kick, she felt another wave like before. She knew, without looking around, that he was watching her. And somehow, she couldn’t manage to continue to be silly, so when the song changed, she had to attempt to dance sexily.

While trying to look sexy, Jessica found that she did feel sexy. She was winding to the beat, and it felt like the gaze she knew was resting on her was a pair of hands sliding around her waist to her stomach, and lower, scraping her thighs. She felt like breath was moving the hair around her ear. Jessica stopped like someone had turned her off with a switch; she felt exposed and overheated, but foolish because she was dancing by herself. But she’d had a good time. Even if it had been for the benefit of someone else. That was worth something. That was more than she normally did.

Jessica tapped Charlene’s shoulder and motioned to the bar, and Charlene barely nodded before wrapping herself back around a man who could have been a vampire, or could have been a human trying very hard to be a vampire. There was something about his look, though, a look that most vampires stuck to for some reason. It was that haughty, distant, but entirely laser-focused on prey kind of look. It said, I am above you, beyond you. I look down on you. But right now, I am looking directly at you. And nothing matters more than that in this moment. It always involved a lifted chin, but eyes that pierced down, pinning the subject to the spot. The look simply screamed that someone was going to hurt — the someone who was on the receiving end. Charlene, arms around his neck, obviously did not care. Jessica almost jogged to the bar. She really needed that drink.

When she reached a stool at the bar and plopped down, the cool seat and granite top gave her a chill, but the easy breeze from the fans