Excerpt from V is for Vampire:

The sting at her ribs and thigh was not going away, and the vampire brought her attention back to eyeball what was left of the wounds. She made a face and nudged at the ragged laceration on her side with careful fingertips. It wasn’t actively bleeding now, but neither had the flesh knit closed, like it should’ve. She’d coughed up all the gold—what was the problem?

As if in response, her stomach made a noise.

Your broke ass hasn’t had anything to eat in a week.

And by ‘anything to eat’, she meant blood. Regular food was all well and good for a while. But just like the ancient sailors coming down with scurvy until they figured out it was a good idea to keep a fucking lemon or two on board, if anyone V-positive went without refreshing their bloodstream for too long … well, it wasn’t pretty.

She already wasn’t healing properly.

Goddamn this idiot.

November gave a low growl and finished scrubbing crusted blood from her skin, avoiding the two open wounds. She cut the spray off and stepped out into the humid little room. Swiped the hanging towel and patted rather than wiped herself dry. No sense in agitating things.

Her clothes were on the floor in a bloody heap, and November curled a lip. Nope. This neg was gonna lend her a shirt or something. She wrapped the towel under her armpits, instead.

“Hey,” she said, stepping out into the cooler living area, “you have got to take me back.”

Leo was in the kitchen now, and he turned at the sound of her voice. His mouth came open and stayed that way a full beat before words came out, while hazel eyes took in legs and female shoulders and wet hair. “We just went over this,” he said after he got done realizing she was a woman. “You know I can’t do that right this instant.”

“I need to eat.” She held his eyes, pointed.

“I’m making us food right now,” he said, gesturing behind him at some package on the counter.

“No,” she said, “my wounds aren’t healing. I need to eat.”