Definitely Dead (Sookie Stackhouse, #6)

by Charlaine Harris

After all, before his dad’s death Alcide had suggested we live together. Now he was shacking up with this young Were, maybe planning to have puppies with her.

“Was the imp of hell trying to bring you under his spell?”

the grand high poobah

It was lethal-killer chic.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked. “Oh, boy,” I said. “You look better than a Happy Meal to a three-year-old.”

He rubbed his huge head against me, almost knocking me down, and he purred. He sounded like a happy Geiger counter.

Here I was, lying on a sidewalk in historical New Orleans, with my boobs hanging out of my dress, my hair coming down, my sandals on my arm, and a large tiger licking my face.