Fading Darkness (Bloodmarked #1) by Alicia Deters

worked wonders for kicking bad guy ass. It
was just another weapon in the arsenal, alongside anger, rage, vengeance, hate,
and several other destructive feelings.
    Evading uncomfortable topics of conversation
has become pretty natural to me, and Holly was used to it, so she never pushed
too hard. I asked her how classes were going and from the frustrated look on
her face, this was her uncomfortable subject.
    I had successfully created a stalemate, and
it was on to a more neutral conversation about the good reviews of the new club
we were attending tonight.
    I sat there listening to her rave about the
place as she applied the minimal amount of makeup to my face that I allowed. She
did a quick curling job on my hair while her iron was still hot to tame all the
wild strands that were out of place. This wasn’t too bad, but seeing the outfit
she had picked out for me really made me cringe. I bit back several swear
words.
    “You’re joking right?” I asked, appalled by
the extra-short black mini skirt, midriff-baring fuchsia bustier that will
barely cover my black bra, and to top it off, thigh-high black boots with
4-inch heels. “I mean, I already have my own underwear, so where’s the outfit
that is supposed to go over that?”
    “Come on, you’d be the hottest person in the
place! Didn’t you tell me vampires go for the hot ones?” Did I actually tell
her that? “You’ll need to go big if you’re going to take the attention off
of this,” she added, raking her hands downward gesturing to herself in
exaggerated arrogance.
    The idea of turning myself into bait wasn’t
new. I’ve done it before to lure vampires away from potential victims, but this
was… for lack of a less cliché word at the moment- overkill.
    She continued making her point by adding,
“It’s either this or skinny jeans, but didn’t you once call them limited-mobility
pants ?”
    “They are limited-mobility pants. It’s not
easy throwing roundhouse kicks in those things without ripping out the seams.”
    “Well, there you have it then. Go with the
skirt.”
    “Really? Those are my only options, either
limited-mobility pants or a zero-modesty skirt?”
    “Yes,” she said with finality.
    I knew it was, as usual, pointless arguing
with her, so I caved. “Fine, but where the hell am I going to put my stakes?”
    She perked up at this, “Oh, I have that
covered.” She rushed over to her bed, and leaned down to pull out a box
underneath it. She rifled through it eagerly and pulled out a satiny black
band. “This garter I have from an old Halloween costume should work!”
    I didn’t even want to know what that costume
could have been, but the garter could be tucked right under the opening of the
boot, as long as it was tight enough. I slipped out of my jeans and t-shirt
tossing them on the floor along with some of my dignity and got dressed, or
undressed more or less. I braced myself for the sight before turning to the
full-length mirror in the corner or Holly’s room.
    She gave me a look of appreciation before I
looked, and when I did see myself, it was just as bad as I was expecting. Wow,
was I really going out wearing next to nothing? I felt so exposed. That might
have had something to do with the fact that I was nearly naked.
    My slender shoulders were only covered with
the straps of my bra, and my arm muscles stood out against the sideways slant
of the ceiling light. My 34-Cs were popping out of the tight bustier. I could
see all the definition in my abs that went all the way down to the low cut of
the mini skirt that barely concealed my toned thighs. In fact, I think the
boots covered more square inches of skin than anything else I had on. Actually,
my hair probably covered more skin than the clothes did. All I could think was
that in a fight, all modesty was out of the question.
    “Damn, I wish I had a perfectly round, toned
ass like that,” Holly said with slight jealousy. “I’d take the whole rockin’
bod you’ve got going