Read Friday Night Bites Online

Authors: Chloe Neill

Friday Night Bites

Table of Contents
“Debut author Chloe Neill owes me a good night’s sleep! With her wonderfully compelling reluctant vampire heroine, and her careful world building, I was drawn into
Some Girls Bite
from page one, and kept reading far into the night. I love Merit and can’t wait for the next book in this fabulous new series.”
—Julie Kenner,
USA Today
bestselling author of
Deja Demon
“Chloe Neill sinks her teeth into the vampire genre with
Some Girls Bite
. Neill’s Merit is the kind of sassy heroine readers love to root for—add to that a fun cast of quirky characters and smokin’-hot sexual tension, and you’ve got a stunning combination.”
—Tate Hallaway, author of
Dead If I Do
“I’d so hang out with Merit the vampire.
Some Girls Bite
is smart, sexy, and delightful. A must read!”
—Candace Havens, author of
The Demon King and I
Some Girls Bite
, Chloe Neill has brought us an exciting new protagonist who is smart, strong, loyal, and audacious enough to embrace her new reality as a vampire with aplomb. I look forward to Merit’s next adventure.”
—Jeanne C. Stein, national bestselling author of
“There’s a new talent in town, and if this debut is any indication, she’s here to stay! Not only does Neill introduce an indomitable and funny heroine; her secondary characters are enormously intriguing . . . truly excellent!”—
Romantic Times

Some Girls Bite
is engaging, well executed, and populated with characters you can’t help but love. It was impossible to set down, and book two,
Friday Night Bites
. . . has gone right to the top of my wish list.”—Darque Reviews
Some Girls Bite
New American Library
Published by New American Library, a division of
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published by New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, October 2009
Copyright © Chloe Neill, 2009
All rights reserved
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:
Neill, Chloe.
Friday night bites: a Chicagoland vampires novel/Chloe Neill.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-14534-0
1. Vampires—Fiction. 2. Chicago (Ill.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3614.E4432F75 2009
813’.6—dc22 2009018717
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
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 Web sites or their content.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Writing is a kind of team sport. Although one person does the typing, others brainstorm, offer support, market the product, and ensure that the book that goes out the door is better than the one that came in.
Friday Night Bites
is dedicated to the team of friends and relatives who’ve helped get the Chicagoland Vampires novels to print, especially the following: my fabulous marketers, Brooke, Caitlin, Jia, and Mom; my patient editor, Jessica; my fabulous agent (and new author!) Lucienne; the folks who patiently read the drafts, including Dusan, Jenny, Amy, Anne, Sandi, Jon, Linda, and Heather; my fabulous book-signing liaison, Sara; and, of course, Nate, for his moral support, excellent brainstorming skills, and dog walking.
A portion of the author’s proceeds from the sale of
Friday Night Bites
will be donated to the Chicago Food Depository.
“First get the facts. Then you can distort them all you want.”
—Mark Twain
Late May
Chicago, Illinois
“Higher, Merit. Bring up that kick. Mmm-hmm. Better.” I kicked again, this time higher, trying to remember to point my toes, squeeze my core, and flutter my fingers in the “jazz hands” our instructor ceaselessly demanded.
Next to me, and considerably less enthused, my best friend and soon-to-be-ex-roommate, Mallory, growled and executed another kick. The growl was an odd accompaniment to the bob of blue hair and classically pretty face, but she was irritated enough to carry it off.
“Remind me why you dragged me into this?” she asked.
Our instructor, a busty blonde with bright pink nails and impossibly sharp cheekbones, clapped her hands together. Her breasts joggled in syncopation. It was impossible to look away.
“Fiercer, ladies! We want every eye in the club on our bodies! Let’s
Mallory glared daggers at the instructor we’d named Aerobics Barbie. Mal’s fists curled and she took a menacing step forward, but I wrapped an arm around her waist before she could
pummel the woman we’d paid to grapevine us into skinny jeans.
“Ixnay on the ighting-fay,” I warned, using a little of my two-month-old vampire strength to keep her in place despite her bobbing fists. Mallory grumbled, but finally stopped struggling.
Score one for the newbie vampire, I thought.
“How about a little civilized beat-down?” she asked, blowing a lock of sweaty blue hair from her forehead.
I shook my head, but let her go. “Beating down the teacher’s gonna get you more attention than you need, Mal. Remember what Catcher said.”
Catcher was Mallory’s gruff boyfriend. And while my comment didn’t merit a growl, I got a nasty, narrow-eyed snarl. Catcher loved Mallory, and Mallory loved Catcher. But that didn’t mean she liked him all the time, especially since she was dealing with a supernatural perfect storm centered over our Chicago brownstone. In the span of a week, I’d been unwillingly made a vampire, and we’d learned that Mallory was a still-developing sorceress. As in, magical powers, black cats and the major and minor Keys—the divisions of magic.
So, yeah. My first few weeks as a vampire had been inordinately busy. Like
The Young and the Restless
, but with slightly dead people.
Mal was still getting used to the idea that she had paranormal drama of her own, and Catcher, already in trouble with the Order (the sorcerers’ governing union), was keeping a pretty tight lid on her magical demonstrations. So Mallory was supernaturally frustrated.
Hell, we were both supernaturally frustrated, and Mallory didn’t have fangs or a pretentious Master vampire to deal with.
So, given that unfortunate state of affairs, why were we letting Aerobics Barbie guilt us into using jazz hands?
Simply put, this was supposed to be quality time, bonding time, for me and Mallory.
Because I was moving out.
“Okay,” Barbie continued, “let’s add that combination we learned last week. One, two and three and four, and five, six and seven and eight.” The music reached a pounding crescendo as she pivoted and thrusted to the bass-heavy beat. We followed as best we could, Mallory having a little harder time of not stepping on her own feet. My years of ballet classes—and the quick-step speed that vampirism gave me—were actually serving me pretty well, the humiliation of a twenty-eight-year-old vampire doing jazz hands notwithstanding.

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