The Vamp Tramp
By Anna Browne
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
*Lulu Publishers*
ISBN 978-1-4357-9333-0
The Vamp Tramp Copyright © 2013 by Anna Browne
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in any part of form.
For information on this book or the author you can contact her at
oceanangel101@gmail.com
.
The text of this book was set in Helvetica and Ayuthaya.
Manufactured in the United States of America.
Cover Design by Molly Joy Photography
Dedicated to:
Linda Vitaljic
For always believing in me
One
My teeth sliced into his delicate skin. I could feel the warm blood ooze out of his neck. It was so tempting, but I knew I must not fully give in.
I gave him a small, innocent smile. Ryan was under compulsion, so he thought we were just making out. He wasn’t aware of the fact that I was slowly taking away his life, his soul.
I drank the blood. It felt so good on my tongue. I haven’t eaten in days. The blood was so warm and so fresh, that my brain was getting dizzy just by the pure joy his blood gave me.
After what felt like ten or so minuets, I knew it was time for me to stop. If I continued, I really would drink away his soul. Besides, his best friend knew he was with me. And I’m sure Geoffrey told his parents.
I am, after all, considered a tramp.
Zara’s fingers paused on the keyboard. What more could she write? Was she experiencing her first-ever writer’s block?
She shook her head. That’s not possible. Zara knew that her fans were awaiting with intense anticipation for her newest novel in the Vamp Tramp series. She couldn’t let her fans down. She’s gotten this far, hasn’t she?
She felt her head go dizzy. She has been pressured to keep writing. And that was what she was doing, nonstop. Her last actual meal was some sandwich she picked up at a cafe days ago. Lately she would just shove something in the microwave.
And she wrote in the time her microwave-able food to cook.
She only slept a maximum of seven hours a day. She wasn’t stupid; she knew that she needed at least a decent sleep if she wanted to stay awake while she wrote.
Her editor, Ralph, kept bugging at her to finish up. Her story was due and fans were getting irritated.
Zara sighed and cracked her knuckles. How? She thought. How could I get writer’s block? And why now? She narrowed her eyes at the computer screen.
Zara had two months left to finish her story. And in times like this, she knew that the number one thing an author would do when she gets writer’s block: she calls a friend and asks for their advice.
