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“You’re gonna bang him.” “I am not gonna bang him.” “You are so gonna bang him.”
“Well, you see…” “He’s her mate and he dipped his stick in several other…actually many other oil tanks. So she dumped his furry player ass, snuck away in the middle of the night and hadn’t really planned on ever going back there again.” Dwayne sucked in a huge breath, which was ridiculous because Vampyres didn’t breathe.
“I’ll bet you five hundred dollars she’s gonna bang him,” Dwayne told Angela. “I’ll bet you a thousand that you’re right,” she shot back. “You’re on.”
“You’re a Vampyre.” “Yes, and?” “Well, um…you’re gay.” “What does that have to do with anything? I am hotter than asphalt in August and I have a huge package.”
“You know, I think you should just be my best friend. I want to show them I don’t need a man to make it in this world…okay?” I glanced over and he was crying. Shitshitshit. Why did I always say the wrong thing? “Dwayne, I’m sorry. You can totally be my…” “You really consider me your best friend?” he blubbered. “I have never had a best friend in all my three hundred years. I’ve tried, but I just…” He broke down and let her rip. “Yes, you’re my best friend, you idiot. Stop crying. Now.” Snark I could deal with. Tears? Not so much.
“I’ll have her eating kibble out of my manicured lily white hand in no time at…holy shit!” Dwayne screamed and ducked as a blur of Granny BS came flying out of the house and tackled my ass in a bed of posies. “Mother Humper.” I grunted and struggled as I tried to shove all ninety-five pounds of pissed off Grandma Werewolf away from me. “Gimme that stomach,” she hissed as she yanked up my shirt. Thank the Lord I was wearing a bra. Dwayne stood in mute shock and just watched me get my butt handed to me by my tiny granny, who even at eighty was the spitting image of a miniature Sophia Loren in
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“Oh my GOD,” I screeched as I trapped her head with my legs in a scissors hold. “You need meds.” “Tried ‘em. They didn’t work,” she grumbled as she escaped from my hold. She grabbed me from behind as I tried to make a run for my car and ripped out my belly button ring. “Ahhhhhhgrhupcraaap, that hurt, you nasty old bat from Hell.” I screamed and looked down at the bloody hole that used to be really cute and sparkly. “That was a one carat diamond, you ancient witch.”
I rolled my eyes and flipped her the bird behind her back. “Saw that, girlie,” she said. Holy Hell, she still had eyes in the back of her head. If I was smart, I’d grab Dwayne, get in my car and head back to Chicago…but I had a killer to catch and a whole lot to prove here. Smart wasn’t on my agenda today.
“What?” I asked, not exactly making eye contact. “Nothin’. I’m just lookin’,” she challenged. “And what are you looking at?” I blew out an exasperated sigh and met her eyes. A challenge was a challenge and I was a Werewolf… “A bald face little fibber girl,” she crowed. “Spill it or I’ll whoop your butt again.” Dwayne quickly backed himself into a corner and slid his phone out of his pocket. That shit was going to video my ass kicking.
“It would be a little weird to be your grandpa,” he mused. “Do you do it on purpose?” “Do what?” he asked, confused. “Leave me with images that no amount of psychotherapy could remove? Burnt peas and rancid hummus are now seared into my brain along with you and Granny and the fact that you clearly sang in a glee club.”
I loved him completely—his strength, compassion and smokin’ hot butt just killed me.
You’re my BFF and I would shred someone’s skin from their body and shove their bones down their dead ass throat for you.”
“You will be careful,” I told him. “If you get hurt, I will kick your ass.” I walked away as his eyes filled with happy tears. Dwayne was a piece of work, but he was my piece of work and I was going to keep him.
“You left a Vampyre and my granny in charge?” I was shocked and impressed. “Not just any Vampyre…A three hundred year old gay drag queen Vampyre who can blow up Dragons.”
