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  Sassy Switch

  Sassy Ever After Series

  By

  Tina Donahue

  Sassy Switch

  Eternity was looking damn grim, until a sexy witch breezed into his life…

  Doomed to an endless existence seeking blood, Roman dreads forever-after until he chances upon Wren at a Las Vegas strip club. Gawd, her curves. Damn, her welcoming kiss for a newly turned vampire no less. She offers warmth and comfort regarding his predicament, plus carnal temptation he’s not about to resist.

  Color her happy about that. Not only is he a good man, but also drool-worthy. So different from the vile warlock who’s been determined to make her his, even if his dark lust kills her.

  It just might. When she refuses to go along with his program, he punishes her and Roman by switching their paranormal states. Now, Roman’s saddled with magic he doesn’t know how to use, while she thirsts for blood that only the warlock can satisfy…to tie her to him forever. Ew, ew, ew.

  As all hell breaks loose, Roman and Wren are faced with conjuring they don’t understand, the lust for blood she has to deny, and discovering what two yearning souls truly need to turn their disturbing future into a shared paradise.

  If they can do so at all…

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  A special thanks to NYT and USA Today bestselling author Kathy Kulig for introducing me to Milly Taiden’s Sassy Ever After Kindle World. And to Milly for inviting me to write for SEA. I love her characters and those of the other talented authors who are expanding this wonderful world.

  Also, thanks to Kate Richards’ Wizards in Publishing and editor Laura Garland for her insightful edits.

  Chapter One

  Roman Young held one opinion on immortality. It sucked. Big Time.

  Bummed by an endless future he hadn’t asked for and didn’t want, he gulped whiskey faster than he’d ever guzzled water. The booze had the same effect on him. Rather than a pleasant buzz he’d come to expect as a human, he now experienced nada, zilch, zero.

  Only blood would ease his craving.

  I am so screwed.

  Battling an unbearable urge to sink his fangs into the other patrons at this strip club, he lifted his glass to signal the server for more booze. Maybe downing several gallons would allow him to sleep and forget how he’d gotten into this mess. One minute, he’d been card counting at a Vegas casino. In the next…

  He didn’t want to remember those awful moments.

  Since being turned, he feared leaving the city. If he was going to change his shitty existence, he had to find the vamp who’d done this to him and get her to fix it somehow, or start drinking blood.

  His stomach cramped, wanting plasma.

  No fucking way. He wouldn’t doom anyone else the way he’d been.

  He craned his neck, but his attacker wasn’t lurking anywhere in the dimly lit room. Acrid smoke from too many cigarettes hovered above tonight’s crowd, many patrons sweating badly given the oppressive summer heat even air-conditioning couldn’t tame. Paranormals, tense from lust, faced the empty stage where a stripper would soon perform.

  A curvy human server delivered a beer to a wolf shifter then bumped her hip against his arm. He flashed a toothy grin. She curled on his lap, cupped his face, and brought his mouth to hers. He groaned. She whimpered. Both reactions competed against music blasting from the sound system. The server and shifter indulged in each other like sex-starved adolescents, groping, kissing, rattling the table and his chair.

  Roman rubbed his eyes, impatient for another drink. He prayed the booze would bring even momentary relief to ease the gnawing emptiness in his gut.

  The hammering bass cut off, replaced by noises from spectators breathing, clearing their throats, or mumbling conversations.

  An earsplitting squeal pierced the other sounds. Feedback from the DJ’s microphone. His chuckle followed. “Sorry about that. Are you ready for our show?”

  The wolf shifter hauled the server onto his table, settled between her legs, then pinned her with his size, weight, and desire.

  Roman twisted in his chair, his glass lifted for another employee to fill.

  Lush musical strains flowed through the room, Alicia Keys’ “Fallin’.”

  Lights blinked off, casting the place in an inky darkness similar to being blind. As a vampire, he could still detect shapes, everything a grayish shade.

  A spotlight flashed and bathed the stage.

  He faced the amber glow.

  The stripper’s back was to the audience, her ash-blonde hair dangling above her ass, her form vaguely concealed by gossamer fabric strips that shimmered gold in the light.

  Alicia hit a plaintive note in her song.

  The stripper eased her arm upward in time to the music, a panel from her costume gripped in her hand. She flung the fabric.

  The thing landed on Roman’s shoulder.

  Her rich, seductive fragrance enveloped him.

  He reeled. Not from the flowery scent, but her natural fragrance, a thousand times sexier, marking her as a witch…and something more. Someone whose blood was special, at least to him.

  She pitched another panel. The material flew past and landed on the necking wolf shifter and server.

  They didn’t notice.

  Roman leaned against his table, desperate to get closer to the stripper.

  She glided across the stage, her remaining panels quivering with each step then separating briefly to reveal her shapely thighs and calves. Sparkly gold polish covered her toenails, the color matching her spike heel sandals.

  More flowery scents and her unique fragrances wafted closer.

  He gripped his chair.

  She turned a fast circle, ditching her panels. They flew right and left.

  Patrons jumped to their feet to catch them. A vampire and dragon shifter fought over one they’d both snagged.

  A bouncer plowed into the scene and used his bulk to separate them. The dragon shifter tottered back and bumped into Roman.

  He scooted away, turned to the stage, but couldn’t move farther. Not even the promise of being human again could have made him budge.

  She’d removed every panel covering her, leaving delicate gold chains hugging her breasts, ass, and mound, her body curvaceous like JLo’s or Kim Kardashian’s. The twinkling jewelry swayed to and fro, momentarily exposing her tight, pink nipples and shaved pussy.

  He grinned hard enough to make his cheeks hurt—the first time he’d done so since being turned.

  The music swelled.

  She gripped the pole center stage and slithered up and down it.

  Hundred dollar bills thrown by the crowd rained on her. Paras and humans kept whooping their approval at her show.

  Roman couldn’t manage a sound.

  She danced on the pole as if she’d been born on it, bending her voluptuous figure in seemingly impossible ways.

  Perhaps magic helped her become uber supple.

  Her gyrations sent her hair flying in every direction and kept hiding her
face from him.

  Fuck that. Turn to me…look at me.

  She spun around the pole, her thighs and calves gripping it, her head thrown back.

  He pushed up to see as much as he could.

  Alicia and the music hit a high note.

  The stripper spun away from the pole, turned several tight circles, then dropped to the stage face down.

  The spotlight snapped off.

  No. No.

  Roman swore.

  Others joined in, their shouted oaths drowning out the remaining music.

  The spotlight flipped back on and highlighted the stripper, her head still lowered.

  Everyone fell quiet.

  A second passed. Then another. Another.

  Roman squirmed in his chair and drummed his table.

  She raised her face.

  He stilled. Everything surrounding him went quiet. Colors dimmed. Only she existed.

  Her delicate features seemed too ethereal for a witch, but better suited for a fae. Her plush lips contradicted the notion. They’d been made for pleasure.

  Something stirred within him. If he’d still been alive, he would have wagered his heart had quickened.

  Her gaze remained lowered.

  That wouldn’t do. Look at me. See me.

  He shouldn’t be feeling what he did. He’d promised himself not to give in to his basest urges, but her presence, scent, and blood captivated him.

  With one sniff, he could tell someone’s blood type. How, he didn’t know. He’d asked Aria, a daywalker from Blue Creek, to settle the mystery. She couldn’t. Her vampire cohorts were different than the one who’d made his life a mess.

  The stripper was AB positive, the same as him. The only blood capable of satisfying his oppressive hunger. Not even O, the universal donor, could do the trick. A and B had no effect on him either, similar to booze. They’d be wasted plasma.

  “Hey, babe!” A tiger shifter rushed the stage.

  The bouncer caught him before he reached it.

  He struggled against the burly guy’s hold on his neck. “Let go!” He shouted at her, “You busy later?”

  Several patrons laughed. Others hollered to get her attention and ask for a date.

  She glanced up.

  Roman stared.

  Sooty lashes ringed her dark-green eyes. The vibrant color complemented her creamy complexion. A small mole decorated her right cheek.

  He liked that.

  She scanned the crowd, her gaze nearing him.

  He tensed and hoped she wouldn’t merely look past.

  She did.

  Shit. He drooped.

  She paused then glanced back and met his eyes. Hell, she fucking held them.

  A current similar to an electric shock tore through him. An exceedingly pleasant feeling that warmed his insides and curled his toes. He wasn’t certain whether she’d done something magic to produce what he experienced or if his feelings resulted from her natural allure. Either way, it didn’t matter. He was ready for more.

  A request for a date rose to his lips. But he gritted his teeth to keep quiet. He’d sworn not to seek blood no matter his pain, and, by God, he was going to remain firm. He might be a vampire now, but he was still a man and had to hold on to his integrity.

  He’d chew off his balls before he hurt her. Pleasing her was the only thing he wanted.

  She stood and left the stage, taking away temptation.

  He should have been relieved, but wasn’t, since hooking up with her, ever, for a simple good time was definitely not in the cards. He slouched in his chair.

  The DJ’s microphone squealed again. He tapped it. “Next show’s in thirty. Hang tight.”

  Time to go. Staying here wasn’t getting Roman anywhere. The vamp he sought wasn’t around and probably wouldn’t be. He should scour the other clubs as he’d done these last weeks. Or haunt the area where she’d turned him. Maybe she frequented the spot to blindside humans, liking the desolate street along with its scant vehicle and foot traffic.

  If only he hadn’t fled the casino that night. If only he’d been smarter and faced the proverbial music. He’d be nursing his wounds now or doing prison time rather than slogging through an empty eternity.

  The thought drained his strength, not allowing him to stand much less walk.

  A pretty mortal server rushed up and spied his empty glass. “Want another?”

  “Bring the whole bottle. Wait. Make it two.”

  “You got it.” She winked and trotted away.

  “Bad night?”

  A female had spoken. She was so close she had to be addressing him, her voice smoky yet oddly caring.

  Couldn’t be his original server. She’d barely glanced his way when he’d ordered and was still necking with the wolf shifter now.

  Something glinted in his peripheral vision…delicate chains barely covering ample breasts and a baby-smooth mound.

  Her.

  Holy shit. He lifted his face and struggled for words. Gold flecks enhanced the green in her eyes. In the faint light, her lips shone as though she’d licked them because she was as hungry as he was.

  Curiosity registered on her lovely features, followed by confusion, and something deeper…possibly lust. “Is it?”

  He didn’t understand her question. “Is it what? Sorry, I’m not following.”

  The server delivered two Johnnie Walker bottles, one red, the other black. “Enjoy.” She left.

  The stripper leaned close. “Is it a bad night for you?”

  He chuckled, surprised he could given his circumstances. She did that to him. Made him feel comfortable, maybe even hopeful, rather than pained. “I’ll manage.”

  “Uh-huh.” She eased his hair off his forehead.

  His scalp tingled and his cock shot to attention, ready to boogie. He made a strangled noise, part groan, part sigh. “Ah…”

  “Shhh.” She caressed his cheek. “Relax. When was the last time you slept?”

  He couldn’t recall. A full night’s rest seemed to have eluded him for years. “I’m guessing weeks.”

  “Is that when you were turned?” She stroked the puncture marks on his neck.

  His head fell back. “Yeah.”

  “Having a hard time adjusting?”

  A lie wouldn’t do. She’d know, would say “uh-huh” to his boast about enduring his new existence, then might touch him somewhere else and he’d shoot his wad in his jeans. He hadn’t been the best human or man, but he’d never suffered from premature ejaculation and wasn’t going to start now. “I’m trying, but it’s shitting hard, you know?” He laughed then tensed at how unglued he sounded. “Sorry. Stupid question. You wouldn’t have a clue.”

  “I might. I’m Wren Lark, by the way. What’s your name?”

  “Roman Young. Wren…” He smiled. “That’s cute. Lark is too. I like both.”

  “Thanks. Let me help.”

  She’d lost him again. “With what?”

  “The trouble you’re having. Adjusting, as you said.”

  He blinked. She couldn’t be offering to use her magic to get his quarry to reverse what she’d done to him. After the shit he’d been through, that would be too easy. Still, he yearned for a good outcome. “How?”

  “This.” She snuggled on his lap and lowered her mouth to his.

  Every nerve ending he owned fired wildly. His hair stood on end. Her lips were soft and warm, her breath sweet, calling to mind cinnamon and sugar, baked goods on a Sunday morning, spring days, fragrant breezes.

  He cupped her head. God, even her hair was silky, like her skin.

  She made a pleased sound and eased her tongue into his mouth.

  Lights flashed beneath his closed lids. He suckled her tongue as deep as he could, letting it play with his. She tasted fresh and clean but witchy, too, for lack of a better word. Some magical and mysterious flavor he couldn’t quite place.

  Maybe it was their shared blood type.

  Stop it. He didn’t want to consider his ever-pre
sent desire to feed. At this moment, and for the first time in weeks, carnal hunger was his sole focus. He kissed her deep, hard, and long, the way a woman should be enjoyed. Tenderness would come after the main event, once he’d known her orally and vaginally, if she allowed it. To start things off, though, burgeoning lust was all that mattered.

  A wanting, feminine sound poured from her, saying she liked his moves.

  Appreciative, he eased her closer, stunned at how good tonight was unfolding. Who would have guessed? Not him by a long shot.

  She melted into his embrace and clung tight, digging her nails into his tee, clawing the soft cotton and his shoulders.

  No biggie. She could flay him to bone for all he cared. as long as she remained where she was until time ended and made him forget everything bad.

  *****

  Roman’s lips were softer than Wren would have guessed. Warmer, too, considering he was a vamp. And his scent… Wow. Something fresh, clean, and aquatic. Partly cologne. Mainly him. Excitement bubbled up. She didn’t deny it. His bristly cheeks made her pussy cream. She liked his size. He was a large man, six-three if he was an inch, pure muscle, no fat, lean and hard. As a tall woman, she appreciated that. Made her feel feminine and small, someone a man could cherish and care for.

  Yeah, sure. She’d given up the notion long ago thanks to the warlocks she’d known. Each one a dick, thinking only of himself.

  The pain and longing in Roman’s eyes had touched her in ways she understood better than he knew—the reason she was sucking his tongue into her mouth and rubbing her ass against his stiffened cock.

  She trembled at how hard he was when she shouldn’t have. It wasn’t like her to behave as she was doing, especially at work, but he was a kindred soul, hating eternity as much as she did.

  He dipped her to the right and cradled her breast.

  Pleasure she hadn’t known for far too long rolled through her, warming the area between her legs and tightening her nipples. They peaked further beneath his skilled touch. She guessed him to be in his early thirties, and that he hadn’t been a virgin for a long, long time.