A Werewolf’s Guide to Seducing a Vampire (Glimmer Falls, #3)

by Sarah Hawley

She strode forward, grinning confidently in the way of well-adjusted people who didn’t want to shrivel up and disappear in front of a crowd, and presented the plant to Mariel.

“I’m thirty-eight and single and haven’t dated in nearly a decade. My business takes up all my time, and I like to knit, and I’m not even a properly rowdy werewolf, and who could ever love someone who feels this anxious most of the time? I should like all the howling and biting things, but I just feel out of control, and no one else likes sweater vests even though they’re wrong about that, and what if nothing about me is attractive and I die alone in a ditch?”

“This cannot be ale,” she said. “It’s like being punched in the teeth by a pine tree.”

His phone chimed after he hung up—a notification from MoonCycle, a versatile period/moonshift-tracking app used by both werewolves and menstruating people.

“She’s very pretty when she’s not dripping with blood and shrieking,” his father offered.

“Give me that,” Eleonore said, snatching the phone from his grasp. Ben blinked as Eleonore launched into a series of terse questions. Where was the meeting? Was Gigi worried for her safety? Had Cynthia Cunnington murdered many people before? No? Well, that was no guarantee she wouldn’t start now. “Tell her you’ll be happy to meet but will be bringing security,” Eleonore ordered. She handed the phone off to Ben without waiting for a response. “I’ll go sharpen my knives.” She disappeared into the spare room.

How to explain a feeling like this? Her chest was warm and she liked looking at him and she sometimes wondered how heavy his testicles would be on her tongue, but as poorly socialized as Eleonore was, even she knew that wasn’t something to admit in public.

His rigid control over his emotions unraveled and he started crying. Eleonore’s eyes widened. She sat next to him and patted his shoulder. “There, there,” she said. “We will defeat the enemy.”

After drinking one mug, she was currently plastered to the ceiling inspecting the paint, so she figured it had done its job of waking her up.

“Too much,” he said. “Way too much.” “Was it?” Eleonore frowned. “It tasted like horrible brown sludge, but isn’t that the point?” Coffee tasted bad and felt good, and right now Eleonore felt like she could single-handedly fight an entire army so long as her heart didn’t explode first.

Ben straightened, then leaned against the counter, looking up at her. “You’re caffeinated up to the stratosphere, aren’t you?” he asked. Eleonore didn’t know that term yet—stratosphere—but she would look it up. She laughed again. “I feel like I could fly!”

“You liked me sucking your blood. Can I suck your penis, too?”

Maybe she could sue the Witch in the Woods for back wages. Then she’d disembowel her.

Themmie couldn’t be taller than five feet, but pixies were surprisingly strong for how delicate they looked: like rainbows that could strangle someone if they felt like it.

And really, every good couple should have a soft one and a stabby one.”

If there’s one constant across the years, it’s that people love getting drunk and stuffing inappropriate objects up their bums.”

He’d never been the type to attend concerts, and that was before he’d hit his thirties and discovered many of the things that had been theoretically fun in his twenties were actually noisy and exhausting, including live music and social gatherings that began after eight p.m.