My Life Without Garlic (9 page)

He heard them before he saw them. Soft voices, happy voices, coming from a room not too far off. Augustin’s heart raced and he almost slunk back to the bedroom, then he told himself to grow a pair. He could smell something delicious cooking, and he could damn well get over being a wuss if it meant getting some of whatever that was.

Augustin still tried to walk silently—no such luck—as he approached the room. He was less than six feet away when a dark-haired man stuck his head through the doorway. Big green eyes went wide and the man squealed before vanishing back into the room.

Immediately there was a rush of hushed voices. Augustin frowned, wondering what to do. A lithe blonde woman stepped out and smiled warmly at him.

“You must be Augustin,” she said in a sweet Southern voice. “Please, come join us. We’re having a meal before our mates wake up.”

“Mates…” Augustin took a few steps then stopped. “Everyone in there is human?”

She smiled kindly. “We are. I’m Billie, and the man who did his best banshee imitation is Mark. He’s very shy. You’ll have to come in to meet the rest of us, and, of course, to have some of Abbie’s divine fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Oh! And her gravy and biscuits, my, my.” Bille fanned herself. “Like I said, divine.”

Augustin’s stomach was going to kick his ass if he didn’t get a move on. He took another step. “Who’s your mate?” he asked, trying to be polite because fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy and biscuits? He’d be nice to Satan himself for that kinda food.

Billie stepped back and gestured him forward. “Who’s yours?”

Augustin cocked his head. “Weren’t you ever taught that answering a question with another question is rude?”

Billie laughed, the sound almost musical. “Why, honey, that must make you even more in the wrong than I am, since you asked a question after mine after yours.”

Augustin felt his brain throb when he heard the barely muffled snickers coming from the kitchen. He pointed at Billie. “I’ve heard about you Southerners. All that ‘bless your heart’ meaning ‘fuck off and die’ and shit like that. What does ‘honey’ mean in Southern speak?”

Billie blinked slowly in a way that projected false innocence. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Us Southerners are salt of the earth good, kind people.”

Those snickers were much louder this time around.

Augustin narrowed his eyes at Billie. “You never answered my question.”

Billie looked him up and down. “That’s certainly a creative outfit.”

“Hardly. It’s a toga, and it’s been around for a million years.” He huffed. “Well, not this particular toga. It’s a sheet, but—” Augustin snapped his mouth shut when he heard outright laughter. He was about to yell that they could all go fuck themselves when a big, handsome, brown-haired man edged Billie out of the doorway.

“Augustin, don’t let her rile you up. Billie will be so kind to you you’ll never notice the little daggers she jabs you with.” He held out a hand. “I’m Abernathy, or Abbie, as some annoying people like to call me.”

Augustin came forward and shook the big man’s hand. Warm brown eyes gleamed as Abernathy gave his hand a slight squeeze before letting it go.

“Billie’s just jealous because her mate keeps talking about you.” Abernathy stepped back and Augustin entered the kitchen.

“I am
not
,” Billie protested, but the tightness around her mouth betrayed her lie.

Augustin felt a puzzle piece slip into place. “Let me guess. You’re Chelsea’s—” He just stopped himself from saying
piece of ass
, fortunately realizing that he’d almost certainly be insulting Abernathy and any other human there if he did so. “Mate,” he finished.

“She says you have a—” Billie began only to be silenced by another woman, who clapped a hand over Billie’s mouth.

“Really, you should stop being so insecure,” the other woman murmured. “Chelsea is your mate and wants no other. Now stop before you embarrass yourself.” She removed her hand.

Billie stuck her bottom lip out. “But she shouldn’t even be noticing if he has a fat bottom or not,” she protested.

And Augustin suddenly found himself the recipient of close to a dozen gazes.

“Can you turn around?” someone asked him.

He growled, irritated and hungry, and tired of being around people, and vampires, even more obnoxious than himself. He considered turning around and mooning every damn one of them and was on the verge of doing so when Abernathy spoke.

“Cut the guy a break,” Abernathy said. “I won’t fix pancakes and French toast for breakfast tomorrow if you don’t.” He winked at Augustin. “Except maybe for Augustin here, since he’s being the mature one.”

Augustin’s eyebrows were going to crawl up to the top of his head. Him? Mature?
What the hell? The apocalypse is coming. Crap!
He really was in a fucked-up place if he was one of the mature ones.

Chapter Sixteen

Augustin’s skin crawled with that horrible feeling of being watched. He turned his head, and glared at the gray-haired lady to his right. He pointed his fork at her. “Don’t even think about trying to get my mashed potatoes.”

She sputtered and Abernathy snorted. Billie gave a delicate roll of her eyes—Augustin was going to damn well have to learn how to do that. Billie made it come off like a freakin’ graceful movement instead of one that the typical teen pulled.

“I wasn’t wanting any of your food,” the gray-haired lady finally huffed. “If you must know, you have gravy smeared on your chin. You look silly.”

Augustin leered at her. “Wanna lick it off?” If she said yes, he was going to take his food and run.

She looked horrified, her pale blue eyes rounding. “Oh my, no. Why would I want to do that?”

“Would have served you right if she’d have said yes,” Abernathy said in a low whisper. “Carol probably really
does
want to lick you. I would if I weren’t already mated,” he added even more quietly.

Augustin’s heart fluttered and down south, so did another part of him as blood rushed to his dick. It was just a physical reaction, and Augustin knew that neither of them were ever going to do each other. It was nice to be appreciated, though. He flapped a hand at Abernathy. “Flatterer. And, lady, you’d be lucky to lick me, let’s just be clear on that.”

Carol made protesting noises but Augustin ignored her and kept eating.

Mark, the screecher, was doing a great imitation of a cornered animal, hunching over and darting quicksilver glances at him. At least, that’s how Augustin thought of them, because the nervous little guy had silver eyes.

Augustin could
not
, for the life of him, imagine Mark being mated with anyone. He’d bet the man had to have all the lights off and did his ‘duty’ to his mate by rolling up his sleeping gown just enough to get to the essential bit.

“Okay, that was bitchy even for me,” he muttered.

Abernathy chuckled and nudged his glass of tea over. “Maybe it’s due to the low blood sugar. Always makes me a downright mean asshole when I’ve gone without food for a day or more. Not that it happens often now, but before I met Ned, times were really rough.”

“Ned?” Augustin gulped down more potatoes. “Your mate.”

Abernathy grinned happily, and it reminded Augustin of a big, silly puppy. It wouldn’t have surprised him if Abernathy had started wiggling his butt on the seat of his chair.

“Yeah.” Abernathy pointed to Carol. “Her mate is Reeves. They’ve been together ninety-seven years, right?”

Carol nodded, looking exceedingly proud of herself.

Augustin nearly choked on his bite of chicken. “Ninety…seven…
years?”
he finally got out. “Jesus,” he rasped when she nodded.

“We live until our mates die,” Carol said in a rather uppity tone. “We stop aging when we exchange blood.”

“Do you turn into a vampire?” Augustin asked.

It was Abernathy who answered. “We can be turned, but we can’t feed off each other then. We could turn to our sire… See, that’s the weird thing. If our mates turn us, then they’re our sire, not our mate, and the balance is skewed because there has to be another donor and it just…doesn’t go well, if you love your mate in the first place. You won’t, eventually. Not if they turn you. It becomes more like a parental thing after time.”

“Most sires and their spawn do have a sexual relationship at first,” said a lithe young man leaning against the counter. He had long, thin blond hair and muddy brown eyes, and delicate features like he was made entirely of fine porcelain. “It helps to bind them together. I don’t want Macias to ever turn me. I’m happy with him, happier than I ever thought I’d be.” He strolled over and held out a hand. “I’m Tyler, by the way. I’ve been here for almost three years now.”

Augustin shook his hand then gestured at everyone with his fork. Besides Tyler, Abernathy, Billie, Carol and Mark, there were another half-dozen people in the room. “None of you mind living here, in the desert, away from society?”

There were several titters and outright laughter.

Augustin held his fork up. “I can throw this thing and spear at least one of you smug assholes with it. Who’s first?”

Abernathy nudged his wrist. “Calm down, Augustin. No one meant anything by it.”

“You say that because it’s not you they’re laughing at.” Augustin watched Mark scurry out of the room. “What is his problem?”

“You just threatened to stab someone with a fork,” Abernathy pointed out. “Mark’s the nervous type in the first place. He’s probably hiding in the closet now, and last time that happened it took his mate two hours to coax him out of it.”

He tried not to feel bad, but Augustin gave up and almost welcomed the guilt. He shouldn’t have scared the timid man. “I would have aimed for Billie,” he said.

“Well I never!” Billie huffed, pushing her chair back. Her cheeks were red and her full lips pursed.

“Bet you have, lots of times,” Augustin told her. “And don’t even get up. You were bitchy to me first,
honey
, so cut the indignant bullshit.” He took another bite, and deliberately let his teeth scrape against the fork. Almost everyone in the room shuddered at the sound.
Oh excellent. Usually only hits about half the people around me.

“We’re not kept here against our will,” Billie informed him. “We can come and go to the world away from here…for a while.”

“For a while?” he asked.

Abernathy took up the explanation. “What do you think would happen if we kept going back to our families and jobs but never aging?”

Carol dabbed at her eyes. “That is a hardship, knowing we have to leave our families and friends, watching from a distance as they sicken and die. It hurts, but the love for our mates, it keeps us strong. And after a while, we don’t want to make new friendships outside of the people here in this house.”

Augustin tried to imagine that, walking away from everyone he knew in the human world—or whatever it’d be called. He couldn’t imagine it, although sometimes the idea of never seeing his mom again wasn’t completely horrible, given how she could nag.

But he wouldn’t just leave her and his life behind. Not that anyone had asked him to.

And for some reason, he was more annoyed than ever as he resumed eating his meal.

Chapter Seventeen

Rolling over and reaching out to grope cold bedclothes rather than warm man had Tony’s eyes snapping open and him sitting up so fast the room tilted on a wave of dizziness.

“Augustin,” he said as he got out of bed, gaze darting to the bathroom door. Tony knew Augustin was gone in an instant. He bolted from the room, the sound of the bedroom door slamming behind him setting off an echo of a remembered racket from his sleep.

“Augustin!” It was ridiculous to feel panic. Tony knew it was. If Augustin had left him again, then he should just let the idiot roast outside.

Except there was that whole thought about Augustin leaving
him
, not the house, and Tony ached inside when he shouldn’t have been so attached to Augustin already.

Tony was halfway down the stairs when he heard the raucous laughter coming from downstairs. He stumbled on the next step when he spotted several of his fellow vampires standing in a group on the first floor, looking none too happy.

Then he heard Augustin’s voice.

“All I’m saying is, try to get your mates to repeat the seashells tongue twister when they’re all fang-y. Just think about it.” He then proceeded to do a very loud—and, unfortunately, accurate—imitation of what vampires sounded like when trying to talk with their fangs out. Tony would just bet there was spit flying everywhere.

“I have a stupid vampire joke,” someone said in a bare squeak of a voice. Tony almost fell over from shock when he realized it was mousy little Mark speaking.

“Ohhh, do share,” Augustin purred. “The sillier the better.”

Tony slipped on down the steps. Clod—
damn it!—
Claude turned enough to give him an unhappy, arched-eyebrow glare.

“What do you get if you cross a vampire with a circus performer?” Mark asked.

Quentin, Mark’s mate, shoved his way past the other vampires and stomped into the kitchen. “Well then, let’s hear it.”

Mark’s gulp was almost as loud as the yelp that preceded it.

“We were just telling jokes,” Abernathy said in a conciliatory tone. “Admittedly about vampires, but most of them weren’t really mean.”

Tony and the rest of the vampires tried to reach the kitchen at once. There was a lot of cussing and shoving, even some cheap punches thrown. Chelsea picked up Macias and flung him against the far wall. He sprang up with a roar, and before Tony knew what was what, a full-scale brawl had broken out among them.

He ducked and ended up on hands and knees, trying to get through the fray. A check in the kitchen and he saw that Quentin had Mark in his arms, no doubt soothing the jittery guy’s nerves. That was a match Tony didn’t understand at all, but whatever, it worked for them. He saw Augustin staring slack-jawed past him. Tony got to his feet as he was past the fighting, and Augustin’s attention shifted to him.