CLAIRE Shane's lips felt like velvet against the nape of her neck, and Claire shivered in delight as his breath warmed the skin there. She leaned back against him with a sigh. Her boyfriend's body felt solid and safe, and his arms went around her, wrapping her in comfort. He was taller than she was, so he had to bend to rest his chin on her shoulder and whisper, "You sure about this?" Claire nodded. "You got the overdue notice, didn't you? It's this or they come to collect. You don't want that." "Well, you don't have to be here," he pointed out - not for the first time today. "Don't you have classes?" "Not today," she said. "I had an oh-my-God a.m. lab, but now I'm all done." "Okay, then, you don't have to do this because you're tax-exempt." By tax-exempt, he meant that she didn't have to pay . . . in blood. Taxes in Morganville were collected three ways: the polite way, via the collection center downtown, or the not-so-polite way, when the Bloodmobile showed up like a sleek black shark at your front door, with Men in Black - style "technicians" to ensure you did your civic duty. The third way was by force, in the dark, when you ventured out un-Protected and got bitten. Vampires. A total pain in