I like my vampires dark. I don’t do Vlad-lite. The character of Morgan doesn’t seem to be a monster at all. As such, she’s well outside the bounds of how I normally craft the vampiric.
Eh. Writing her was fun. So there.
working late
“On the upside, it’ll be the most interesting TPS report the office has seen.”
Morgan groaned. “It’s not funny,” she said.
“It’s kind of funny.”
“I hate you right now.”
Thomas smiled in that way. It made her want to slap him. And then bite him. And then slap him again.
“No you don’t. I’m delicious,” he said.
They were in Morgan’s corner office. It was well past midnight. Even the cleaning crew was already gone.
There were papers all over the desk and floor. Contrary to Thomas’s quip, not one of them was part of a TPS report. However, more than a few belonged to a secret memo Morgan’s boss’s boss, the CIO of the company, had asked her to read and then return.
It was all a part of some ‘ground-breaking’ new strategy he wanted to keep hush-hush. Whatever. The validity of his strategic planning aside, the real problem was the blood. It was all over the memo.
They began to gather the papers.
“You know,” Morgan said, “it’s ill-advised to taunt the person who drinks your blood. I could just suck you dry next time.”
“Nah. You’re more like one of those…what do you call them?”
Morgan glared. “So help me, Thomas, if you make a Twilight reference–”
“Vegetarian vampires,” he said with a smile.
“God, I hate you.”
It was an arrangement born of convenience. Morgan needed to feed. Thomas desired a sexual outlet he wife refused to provide. They could scratch each other’s backs, both benefiting, and no one got hurt. So long as it all remained a secret, that is.
When everything was stacked neatly on the desk and reordered, they looked it over. Thomas’s wounds had already healed leaving only pin-prick evidence, but the memo was dotted and splashed with crimson over all 30 some-odd pages.
“What are we gonna do?” Morgan asked.
Thomas thought for a bit. She outranked him on the org chart, but their mutual knowledge of each other (and her growing affection for him as a person rather than a mere blood doll) meant she valued his opinion.
“We have two options,” Thomas said. “We can trash it. Tell Wilson you lost it or dropped it in the pool.”
“No go. He only shared this with me and two other people. I want that VP promotion. I think this is his version of a test.”
“That’s kind of lame.”
“He’s kind of lame,” Morgan said. “What’s option two?”
“Retype it, cover-to-cover.”
She sighed. “That’s going to be a pain in the ass. We’ll have to match font and formatting by eye-balling it.”
Thomas grinned. “He’s a Times-Roman guy. That’s the easy part. It’ll just take time, and Jill’s probably already wondering why I’m not home. When does Wilson want this back?”
“Tomorrow if possible. Want me to call her?”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea. A call from a female co-worker at nearly 1:00 in the morning. That won’t arouse suspicions. Seriously, how did you survive the dark ages?”
“I’m not that old.”
“I’ll call and tell her I have to re-write a report for tomorrow morning.” He chuckled. “It’s not even a lie.”
“Fine, fine. You take care of that and I’ll get clean up the rest.”
“I’m going to need some coffee.”
“I think I need something rather a little stronger,” Morgan said. Her teeth flashed, pearl daggers set against ruby lips.
Thomas nodded, leaving the report on the corner of the desk and walking with her to the couch. They sat. He turned, his back to her chest. She embraced him, arms wrapping around his sides, holding his hands at his heart.
When she bit, he flinched and tensed, but only for a moment. Then the warmth spread. He felt high, as did she. High, and invincible, and free of any other care or worry the world might throw at them.
The report would just have to wait.