Dying for You
MaryJanice Davidson
“WHAT CAN YOU SAY ABOUT A VAMPIRE WHOSE LOYALTY CAN BE BOUGHT BY DESIGNER SHOES? CAN WE SAY, OUTRAGEOUS?”
—The Best Reviews
UNDEAD AND UNFINISHED
“[A]n amusing episode in Davidson’s popular series.”
—Booklist
“A sassy paranormal tale.”
—Monsters and Critics
UNDEAD AND UNWELCOME
“Packs a chic coffin.”
—The Denver Post
“Twists and turns to keep the readers hooked and longing for the next part.”
—ParaNormal Romance
“Outrageously wacky.”
—RT Book Reviews
UNDEAD AND UNEASY
“Breezy dialogue, kick-ass action, and endearing characters.”
—Booklist
“Be prepared to fall in love with the Undead all over again!”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Davidson—and her full-throated humor—is in top form. When it comes to outlandish humor, Davidson reigns supreme!”
—RT Book Reviews
UNDEAD AND UNPOPULAR
“Terrific…Starts off zany and never slows down.”
—ParaNormal Romance
“Think Sex and the City…filled with demons and vampires.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Bubbly fun for fans of the series.”
—Booklist
“Make sure you have enough breath to laugh a long time before you read this…This is simply fun, no two ways about it.”
—The Eternal Night
UNDEAD AND UNRETURNABLE
“Cheerily eerie ‘vamp lit’…A bawdy, laugh-out-loud treat!”
—BookPage
“There is never a dull moment in the life (or death!) of Betsy…A winner all the way around!”
—The Road to Romance
“Plenty of laugh-out-loud moments…I can’t wait for the next installment of Undead.”
—A Romance Review
UNDEAD AND UNAPPRECIATED
“The best vampire chick lit of the year…Davidson’s prose zings from wisecrack to wisecrack.”
—Detroit Free Press
“A lighthearted vampire pastiche…A treat.”
—Omaha World-Herald
“MS. DAVIDSON HAS HER OWN BRAND OF WIT AND SHOCKING SURPRISES THAT MAKE HER VAMPIRE SERIES ONE OF A KIND.”
—Darque Reviews
UNDEAD AND UNEMPLOYED
“One of the funniest, most satisfying series to come along lately. If you’re fans of Sookie Stackhouse and Anita Blake, don’t miss Betsy Taylor. She rocks.”
—The Best Reviews
“I don’t care what mood you are in, if you open this book you are practically guaranteed to laugh…Top-notch humor and a fascinating perspective of the vampire world.”
—ParaNormal Romance
UNDEAD AND UNWED
“Delightful, wicked fun!”
—Christine Feehan
“Chick lit meets vampire action in this creative, sophisticated, sexy, and wonderfully witty book.”
—Catherine Spangler
“Hilarious.”
—The Best Reviews
“It is a book for any woman who can understand that being fashionable, looking good, and having great shoes are important…even if you’re dead.”
—LoveVampires
“NO ONE DOES HUMOROUS ROMANTIC FANTASY BETTER THAN THE INCOMPARABLE MARYJANICE DAVIDSON.”
—The Best Reviews
PRAISE FOR MARYJANICE DAVIDSON’S WYNDHAM WEREWOLF TALES
“A riotous romp.”
—Booklist
“Werewolves and romance, who could ask for more!…The passion in this story is intense.”
—The Best Reviews
“A wonderful story that lovers of werewolves and romance will greatly enjoy and will find flat-out funny. Readers who prefer what they read to be witty should read Derik’s Bane and other works by MaryJanice Davidson.”
—Romance Junkies
“This is by far the sexiest and most romantic story in this collection, and alone is worth the cover price…Davidson also manages to do what I thought was impossible: weave an honest-to-goodness love story in a scant fifty pages. And the sex? Wow. My grade: A.”
—All About Romance
“An arousing triumph.”
—Midwest Book Review
“MaryJanice Davidson writes wonderful dialogue and banter.”
—Crescent Blues
“Get set for some high-powered sex and romance that will have you howling at the moon for Mr. Gorgeous too! Ms. Davidson created a memorable story in ‘Love’s Prisoner’ that I know I won’t forget. Very creative and it sure gets your juices flowing in the right direction!”
—Suzanne Coleburn,
The Belles and Beaux of Romance
Titles by MaryJanice Davidson
UNDEAD AND UNWED
UNDEAD AND UNEMPLOYED
UNDEAD AND UNAPPRECIATED
UNDEAD AND UNRETURNABLE
UNDEAD AND UNPOPULAR
UNDEAD AND UNEASY
UNDEAD AND UNWORTHY
UNDEAD AND UNWELCOME
UNDEAD AND UNFINISHED
UNDEAD AND UNDERMINED
UNDEAD AND UNSTABLE
DERIK’S BANE
WOLF AT THE DOOR
SLEEPING WITH THE FISHES
SWIMMING WITHOUT A NET
FISH OUT OF WATER
Titles by MaryJanice Davidson and Anthony Alongi
JENNIFER SCALES AND THE ANCIENT FURNACE
JENNIFER SCALES AND THE MESSENGER OF LIGHT
THE SILVER MOON ELM: A JENNIFER SCALES NOVEL
SERAPH OF SORROW: A JENNIFER SCALES NOVEL
RISE OF THE POISON MOON: A JENNIFER SCALES NOVEL
EVANGELINA: A JENNIFER SCALES NOVEL
Anthologies
CRAVINGS
(with Laurell K. Hamilton, Rebecca York, Eileen Wilks)
BITE
(with Laurell K. Hamilton, Charlaine Harris, Angela Knight, Vickie Taylor)
KICK ASS
(with Maggie Shayne, Angela Knight, Jacey Ford)
MEN AT WORK
(with Janelle Denison, Nina Bangs)
DEAD AND LOVING IT
SURF’S UP
(with Janelle Denison, Nina Bangs)
MYSTERIA
(with P. C. Cast, Gena Showalter, Susan Grant)
OVER THE MOON
(with Angela Knight, Virginia Kantra, Sunny)
DEMON’S DELIGHT
(with Emma Holly, Vickie Taylor, Catherine Spangler)
DEAD OVER HEELS
MYSTERIA LANE
(with P. C. Cast, Gena Showalter, Susan Grant)
MYSTERIA NIGHTS
(includes Mysteria and Mysteria Lane, with P. C. Cast, Susan Grant, Gena Showalter)
UNDERWATER LOVE
(includes Sleeping with the Fishes, Swimming Without a Net, and Fish out of Water)
DYING FOR YOU
Dying
for You
MARYJANICE DAVIDSON
BERKLEY SENSATION, NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL,
England • Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin
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(a division of Pearson Austra
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(South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over
and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
“The Fixer-Upper” copyright © 2004 by MaryJanice Davidson Alongi. Previously published in Men at Work.
“Paradise Bossed” copyright © 2006 by MaryJanice Alongi. Previously published in Surf’s Up.
“Driftwood” copyright © 2007 by MaryJanice Alongi. Previously published in Over the Moon.
“Witch Way” copyright © 2007 by MaryJanice Alongi. Previously published in Demon’s Delight.
Cover illustration John Jay Cabuey.
Cover design Leslie Worrell.
Interior text design by Kristin del Rosario.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or
electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of
copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
BERKLEY SENSATION® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / August 2012
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Davidson, MaryJanice.
Dying for you / MaryJanice Davidson.—Berkley Sensation trade pbk ed.
p. cm.
ISBN: 978-1-101-57506-2
I. Title.
PS3604.A949D95 2012
813’.6—dc23 2012020130
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ALWAYS LEARNING
PEARSON
CONTENTS
The Fixer-Upper
Paradise Bossed
Driftwood
Witch Way
The
Fixer-Upper
For Stacy,
who gave me the idea
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks as always to my family for their support. And especially to my sister, who never minds when I cancel our plans so I can finish a story.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
There are no such things as ghosts, which only means that I have never seen one.
Prologue
He dodged, laughing, and lost his footing. The fun stopped as the stairs rushed up at him. Adrenaline was dumped into his system, but there was nothing to clutch onto, nothing to slow his fall. The last thing he heard, besides his neck breaking between the third and fourth vertebrae, was his sister, screaming.
He did plenty of screaming himself, but no one could hear him, and no one could see him.
He stayed gone for a long time.
Chapter 1
“And if you would sign here…and initial here…and sign here…and here again…”
Cathy signed and initialed until her hand cramped. Catherine Sarah Wyth. CSW. Thank goodness for all those little red Sign Here notes, or she would have been lost. Even with her realtor.
“And here’s a check.”
“What a pleasant surprise,” she said, and she meant it. The house she was buying was already draining money; it was nice that they’d overestimated closing costs. She could buy a new couch! Well, half a couch. A cushion, maybe. “Is that it? Are we done?”
Her realtor, John Barnes, looked across the table at the owner’s lawyer, John Barney. Like that never got confusing. “I think we’re okay, here, how about you, John?”
“Fine, John. Cathy.” John #1 stood to shake her hand. “I hope you’ll be very happy in your new house. I have to say it’s nice that something positive could come out of tragedy.”
“Thanks, John,” she replied, barely listening—she was too busy mentally redecorating her new fixer-upper. Then she shook hands with John #2. “John.” She scooped up the folder with roughly 1,212 pieces of paperwork, and carefully tucked her check in her purse. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll go check out the house.”
My new house.
“Congratulations,” John #2 said.
“Good luck,” John #1 said.
“Thank you, gentlemen. Have a good one.” She skipped out the doorway, remembered herself, then said to hell with it and skipped the rest of the way to her car. The last time she had skipped to anything she had had a consuming interest in Super Balls and Lik ’Em Aid. She still liked Lik ’Em Aid, but everything else had changed.
She drove straight to 1001 Tyler Avenue in St. Paul, Minnesota, parked in her driveway, and stared up at her house.
Her house.
Even now, she couldn’t believe it was real. All those years of saving, of making a pair of shoes last two years and a suit last four, of going without nice vacations and pricey clothes and fancy cars, lobster tails and caviar—not that she could abide fish eggs, but still—had finally paid off. She was a home owner.
She climbed out of her car—yet another sacrifice to her new home; it was a 1994 Ford Taurus and it wheezed in the cold—and stood in her yard, then strolled around the—her—property.
The turrets, in particular, delighted her. Like something Rapunzel would hang out in. And the mini-porch up on the roof. The bay windows, the huge kitchen—it seemed especially huge after years of apartment efficiencies.
It definitely needed work. For one thing, the house wasn’t really pink…over the years, the deep red had faded. It had probably looked a lot nicer in 1897. The porch steps looked downright dangerous—a lawsuit waiting to happen—and the fence looked like broken teeth. The garden had been, to put it politely, overrun.
It wasn’t surprising—the woman who had sold the house to Cathy had been, at rough guess, a thousand years old. Not that she had seen the woman, but Cathy knew she was an original descendent of the family who had built the home. Spry she was not. The house had, understandably, eventually been too much for her.
That was all right. That was, in fact, the only reason Cathy had been able to afford a 2,800-square-foot home at her age, on her salary. And she had wanted this place the moment she saw it on the Edina Realty website. Not because it was big, although that was nice. But because it was a home. It had character. And if it needed work, well, Cathy had never been afraid to get her hands dirty.
She heard a pounding and looked over to the yard on her left. A shirtless fellow had his back to her, had something set up on those whatchamacall’ems—the things you set something on when you were going to hammer them. Or something. Horses? No, that couldn’t be right.
Anyway, the guy was really pounding away, and sweat was gleaming across his broad back. It was only May, but Cathy felt herself start to sweat in response. Oofta. Broad back, narrow waist, tool belt, faded jeans. It was like watching a Bowflex commercial.
He turned, still holding the hammer, and their gazes met across the low hedge. How romantic. She could see how dark his eyes were from all the way across her yard. Gorgeous brown eyes, full mouth, aquiline nose. Strong chin, long neck, broad yummy shoulders. His chest was lightly furred, the hair tapering down to a line leading straight to his, um, belt. He looked like a moody prince, out to do a little carpentry work before running the country.
New house. No more renting. A dec
ent temp job. A yummy next-door neighbor. Oh, lucky, lucky day!
“Well, fuckin’ A,” her prince said. “A new neighbor. Fuckin’ great! Hey, how the fuck are ya?”
Oh dear, she thought.
Chapter 2
“So you’re a temp worker, huh? Like a new job every week?”
“Something like that.” She topped off her neighbor’s water glass. Well, water Dixie cup.
“Can’t hold a job, huh?” He guffawed, throwing his long neck back. She smiled thinly and said nothing. The truth was, she hated to be tied down. Trying a new job every month or so suited her perfectly. “Well, that’s a bitch.”
“Not really. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name…?”
“Ken Allen.”
“I’m Cathy.”
“Aww, Ken and Cathy, that’s kinda cute.”
“Not really. Well, I’ve got a lot of work to do…”
“I’ll help you move in,” he said immediately. She noticed it wasn’t a question.
“That’s okay. You’re busy, and my friends are coming over tomorrow to—”
“You gotta have some stuff with you. Chicks always bring shit with them.”
“As a matter of fact, I do have some shit with me, but you don’t have to—”
He ignored her, got up, and moved toward the kitchen door. “I’ll go get it.”
She trailed after him, uncomfortable and silent. The truth was, she never knew how to behave around strong-willed—okay, obnoxious—people. She herself was more the quiet type. Her best friend was strong-willed enough for the both of them. Give her a book and a cup of tea and she was in heaven. She tended to stay out of the way of such people. Then she’d spend days despising herself for her cowardice, but she was definitely a low-road kind of girl, and that was all there was to it.
“What a piece of shit,” he said upon seeing her car.
