Pierce's version of the first kiss ...

Where is Waverly? It's only my first day as her bodyguard, and I have failed miserably. First, I almost got eaten by sharks and she had to save me. And now, I have searched this entire yacht, from the gleaming engine room to the opulent staterooms, and Waverly is not on board. My invitation to have her meet me before the party was an utter failure. She refused it. In truth, I should be happy she isn't attracted to me. Makes my job less complicated. Speaking of jobs, what am I going to tell her dad? To get away from the noise of the party and contemplate my next move I needed to be alone, but Shelly Sharkweather kept buzzing after me like a mosquito. I have finally managed to escape to the aft.

The yacht floats in the middle of the bay, thumping against the water, out of sync with the muses up front who are performing a song in ancient Greek. A shooting star catches my eye as it whizzes past Orion's belt. No one ever talks about one of the best parts about being a vampire—a telescopic view the night sky, but without the telescope. Tonight the Milky Way is a delicate silvery cloud, a bridal veil of celestial lace stretching across the heavens. Jupiter's stormy red eye keeps watch, and the rings of Saturn are icy pinks and greys.

I scan the shore, but even with my vampire sight, I can't locate her. I close my eyes and reach out telepathically to see if I pick up any communications from her brain. But there is only silence.

Then I smell her! Relief courses through my veins. She smells like everything red and rich and cool. Like life. My stomach growls. I slap my abdomen. "Silence," I command. Of course it answers by growling again. Vampires have many powers, but we are still servants of biology, the same as humans. Perhaps even more. And here I am worrying about my appetite when Waverly obviously has an open wound, or I wouldn't be smelling her like this.

"I'm bleeding, which is a very, very bad idea when you're going to a party with a sexy vampire, who may or may not have stood you up."

Her inner voice is so clear, it's as if she is standing next to me. And I only had a drop of her blood. I am way happier about her calling me sexy than I have any right to be. I grab the rail and scan the water. There she is, about twenty feet away, her head above the surface, iridescent green hair floating around her.

"Wait, did I just use the word sexy to describe Pierce?" Waverly thinks.

"I believe you did," I say. I can't resist teasing her. I'm rewarded with an increase in her blood pressure. She will have a hard time getting aboard without help, but I need to get her on deck so I can see how badly she is injured. I have to offer assistance in a way that doesn't seem too obvious or pushy or demeaning. I am not allowed to tell her I'm working for her father. I should say something calming like: Don't be alarmed. I'm here to help. I can fly down and rescue you." But instead I blurt out: "Too late, Waverly. I already know that you think I'm sexy." Why does she have this effect on me?

"I was thinking you are snoopy, not sexy," she says. "Your blood-enhanced mind-reading must be wearing off."

"No, it lasts a good twenty-four hours," a chuckle slips out even though I know it will only make her mad. Once again, I can't help it. "And your mind is one of the most interesting places I've ever been. A shining garden of contradiction." I use poetry to cover up my attraction. She can't know how I feel about her. I have a job to do, and nothing can happen between the two of us.

"Ugh, vampire poetry!" she thinks. "Voyeur!" she says out loud.

"I don't think you're in a position to criticize me when I'm your only hope of getting onto this boat, Waverly. Say something nice, and I might help you." She is incessantly fun to tease.

I want to throw him back to the sharks.

"I heard that."

"Stop getting into my brain, you ... you ..."

"Careful," I warn, a huge grin plastered on my face.

"You kind, helpful, intelligent, vampire."

"And sexy," I say. "Don't forget. Say it. Out loud."

"Sexy. Okay, satisfied?" She manages to say.

"Not yet," I say, laughing. I know she isn't sure what I'm suggesting.

"For the last time, stop listening to my thoughts. It's rude!"

"I can't help it, Waverly. You are endlessly entertaining," I admit.

"How did you even know I was here?"

"Smelled you."

"What, I smell bad?"

Is she insane? "Bad? No, Waverly. You smell delicious."

"Don't get any ideas," she says.

"Too late for that." Why did I say that? I shouldn't be flirting with her this way. Time to get serious. "Are you badly hurt?"

"Just some scrapes. I'll be fine," she says. "I mean as long as you don't drain my circulatory system."

"I'm wounded, Waverly, I just want to make sure you aren't hurt." I say. But as I'm about to swoop down and pluck her from the water, I smell Shelly's overpowering perfume, and then I hear the loud plunking of her platform heels. I glance over my shoulder. "Wait, quiet. Someone is coming."

Waverly sinks lower in the water right before Shelly appears.

"Who were you talking to," says Shelly.

"The night," I say. It's all I can come up with on such short notice. Not bad though. I'll have to remember it.

"I sometimes talk to the universe," says Shelly. "It's totally profound. Like sometimes I ask for stuff, then I get it. You have to totally want whatever it is really badly, or you won't get it, though."

"I'm glad you have such a strong grasp of the concept," I say, doing everything I can not to gag at her shallowness.

"Thanks," she says in a little pouty girl voice. She must assume it is sexy. She touches my hand, which is resting on the rail with her fingertip, then strokes the skin from my wrist to the tip of my index finger. Her heart rate accelerates, as does her breathing. "I do grasp it." She grabs my hand. Hard. I try to extricate it. "I'm sorry Waverly didn't come; guess she doesn't like parties or the company."

"Oh, I have a feeling she might show up," I say.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Shelly presses her body against mine, pushes her hair off to one side as if offering her neck to me! Out of the corner of my eye, I detect red sparks in the water. As if Waverly has lit a Fourth of July sparkler. I wonder what is causing the sparks? Must be some type of mermaid skill I don't know about. Luckily, Shelly doesn't seem to notice. I yank my hand out from under hers and make sure her back is to water to keep her from noticing Waverly.

"I think Cupid is looking for you and wants to dance with you. You should go," I say. That should get rid of her. She was definitely fascinated by the gods earlier today.

"But I want to talk to you," Shelly says, frowning.

"You should never jilt a god. You remember the last girl who angered Cupid?"

"No."

"Exactly."

"What was her name?" I can't believe how dense she is.

"Give me a minute on my own," I say, trying not give in to the urge to conk her over the head and toss her into the sea.

"Okay, but I'll be back," she says. Finally, she toddles off on her wobbly heels.

"It's safe now," I say to Waverly. I'm going to fly down and lift you aboard."

"Don't think so."

"Are you saying you swam halfway across the bay to masquerade as a mermaid figurehead? Because if you are, you are at the wrong end of the boat. Figureheads are at the bow."

"I'm not stupid," she says. "It's just that I am wardrobe-challenged right now."

"You mean naked."

"Yeah."

"I don't see the problem," I say, but the image of Waverly's dad coming at me with a pointy stake says otherwise.

I pick up a telepathic transmission from Waverly's brain of me being devoured by sharks and carried off to sea in a jellyfish-infested riptide from Waverly's brain. She is creative at least.

"I see," I say. All right, if she won't let me fly her aboard, I'll have to get a ladder and a towel. While I was looking for her earlier, I saw a rope ladder mid ship and towels below deck. I quickly gather the items, race back to where she is, and throw the ladder over the side.

"Uh, Pierce?"

"Yes, Waverly." Her heart race increases as I say her name, but I don't comment about it.

"Well, um, there's still the problem of my, um, lack of clothing."

"Got you covered," I say.

"Really? Now you're making puns?"

I dangle the end of the towel over the side.

It takes a good five minutes for her to make it up the ladder. I stand with my back to the deck the whole time, the towel spread out behind me, trying not to notice the smell of her blood or think about how she looks. She takes the towel. I wait until I feel her standing still before I turn around. Then I pull her into my arms and hug her. What has gotten over me? I'm crazy. All I want to do is touch her.

"I was so worried about you. And you are hurt." My mouth is a heartbeat away from her neck. Her carotid artery pulses hypnotically, beckoning. The memory of that drop of her blood I had earlier makes me salivate. I don't even know if I can control myself if I get any closer.

"I'm fine," she says. "But you never came to meet me the beach."

I manage to pull myself away and stare at her. What is she talking about? She stood me up. "You sent me a very adamantly phrased note saying that you didn't want me to," I say. "Something about how you'd rather scrape barnacles from a whale's nostril."

"I did not. I was waiting for you. That's why I'm late."

"Shelly!" We say simultaneously.

"Wait until I find her." I drop fang.

"Put your fangs away," she says. "I'll take care of her. She is my bunkmate and a menace to mermaidhood!"

"But of course, my lady," I bow, and when I rise, I have managed to get my fangs back in place. "She is your quarry."

"Thanks," she says.

"Waverly ..." I whisper, and pull her back into an embrace. In her mind, I can sense that she is begging me to kiss her. I want to more than anything in the world. She stands on her toes and looks up at me. I hold her chin and gently trace her cheekbones with my thumbs. Our lips are practically touching. She closes her eyes. I am about to kiss her, when I picture her father coming at me with that stake in one hand, a three-pronged trident gripped in his other. Even worse, I picture Crumpet's disappointment in me. As my sire, I cannot help to want to please him. He is my father, for all intents and purposes. He saved my life by killing me, and this is how I repay him?

I release Waverly. Her eyes open in shock. I can see the hurt. Hear it in her brain. Because I'm nervous, I rake my hand through my hair. It's a quirk left over from when I was a human. "Waverly ..."

"Don't." She tugs on the towel.

"Look at me," I command.

"No, I gotta go. Thanks for your, uh, help."

Obviously my vampire powers do not work on Waverly. By all rights she should be mesmerized and looking straight into my eyes and obeying my command. I want to voodoo the memory of what I've done out of her consciousness. "Waverly, it's not that I don't want ... "

"Stop."

I bite my lip. What should I do? I want to tell her I'm working for her dad. She is my responsibility. We can never be together. Then I look at her face. The luscious pout on her lips. The intelligence and wit behind her rainbow eyes. Her beautiful hair cascading over her body like green fire. And before I am conscious that I have even moved, I wrap my arms around Waverly's shoulders and wrench her body against mine. I stare into her eyes. I know her attraction to me is real. It's not my powers making her heart stammer and her breath shallow. She wants me, and I want her. Her hair is sparking again. She stops breathing. I can't help myself. My lips are on hers. They are warm. Her mouth opens, and we are kissing deeply. I have never felt anything like this before. It is as if I have lived, and died, and lived again.