Page 10 of Hunters and Hydrangeas

“There are support groups for new final-stage vampires, too. The local one meets every Wednesday.”

“He told me, but you’re the only support I need,” I tell him firmly. “No more groups.”

His smile morphs into a smirk. “Are you saying you want to hold a private meeting?”

I let my hand stray over his side. “Sure. First order of business, let’s discuss the fact that my vampire boyfriend won’t bite me.”

Noah chuckles, his honey-brown eyes bright. “It’s late. We should get to bed.”

But I hold tight to his side when he tries to step away. “Noah.”

“What?”

“Is it my imagination, or have you been extra careful with me since I entered the final stage?”

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t kissed me.”

He frowns. “I’ve kissed you.”

To prove it’s true, he drops a peck on my lips.

I trail my hand up his chest and then wrap my fingers around the back of his neck. “That’s not what I mean.”

He groans as I knead his muscles. “The first few weeks after the infection aren’t pleasant. I didn’t want to cause you more discomfort.”

“You don’t think I can behave myself?” I say, though my eyes have strayed to his neck, making me question whether Icanbehave myself. Even now, my new creepy-as-heck fangs are nudging against my gums.

When I went to my new doctor who specializes in vampire care (who’s actually, and ridiculously, called a vampirologist), I learned that fangs begin to form right after the final transmission, taking a few weeks to reach their full size.

Mine started aching after the altercation with Sam, and they’ve been really annoying this last week. Dr. Martin gaveme a prescription strength painkiller, since apparently our metabolisms burn through the regular stuff too quickly. He told me it will pass as soon as my fangs break through my gumline for the first time. So…that’s something to look forward to. Too bad it’s taking longer than he said it would.

“No, just…” A smirk passes over Noah’s face, but he bites it back. “The teething stage is uncomfortable.”

I close my eyes, horrified. “Don’t call it that.”

“Fanging stage?”

“Doesn’t make it better.” Shuddering, I start up the stairs. “Now that you’ve killed the mood, I’m heading to bed.”

Noah chuckles as he follows me, parting when he reaches his hall. “Night, Piper.”

I close the door to my bedroom and head into the bathroom to wash up. My toothbrush feels weird against my gums, reminding me I’ll never be normal again.

I’m now Piper: Night Monster Edition.

After I rinse out the toothpaste, I lean forward and tilt my head back, trying to see my gums behind my teeth. I can’t, of course, since humans don’t work like that.

When my fangs come in, supposedly, they’ll slide right against my incisors, extending beyond them in sharp points, perfectly shaped to fit. Dr. Martin said if they don’t, I’ll need to see an orthodontist who specializes in fangs.

I already knew vampire dentists existed—I saw the sign for one in the waiting room when I visited my dietitian for the first time. But that doesn’t make it any less weird.

I test my smile, relieved that Ilooknormal.

A sudden shot of panic tightens my throat when I think a little too long about all these changes, and I close my eyes and take a deep breath like Dr. Martin instructed. The medicine helps, but it doesn’t make you numb.

I won’t go to the support groups, but maybe I should meet with a NIHA therapist. Noah has gently been nudging me to make an appointment, and Cassian has been a little less subtle.

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