track his progress. “Your Kappa is missing. You better find him before he goes on another bender.”
Chapter Twelve
“When all else fails there’s always delusion.”
~Conan O’Brian
The Kappa, an abnormally massive turtle-like Japanese supe who sucked living energy and slaughtered hundreds roamed free. In addition to that potential hot mess, Loretta’s killer was still on the loose, drug addicts still indulged and died on King’s Krank, the connections of the Vampire court were lost to me, and Wick and his Werewolf pack hated me.
At least I had Tristan.
Right?
Then why the heck wasn’t he answering his phone or replying to my text messages? I took a deep breath and refocused. The calm dissipated almost immediately. Oh no. I refused to become the bunny-boiling, stalker girlfriend.
My heart thumped in my ears, and my skin prickled. Why wasn’t he responding? He normally replied right away. I checked my watch. Well, maybe he was sleeping. Not everyone stayed up this late, although there was a lot of night left before dawn.
I dragged my tired, pinched toes, and sweaty thighs back to my apartment. My disappointment hung heavy in my chest. I’d secretly hoped Tristan had gone incommunicado because he used his key to wait for me at my place. Naked.
A pleasurable bolt of lightning struck my crotch at the thought.
Unfortunately, no naked Tristan. When I walked in, the air was stale and bereft of his delicious scent. Something else slithered through the apartment. Something I couldn’t quite place, but drew me forward into the room. I sniffed around like a bloodhound, but the smell evaded my detection, slipping away from my reach. I should be creeped out, but no malice hung in the air. Another fera, maybe? The one who rudely interrupted my sleep?
My phone vibrated, and I pounced on it.
Ben, not Tristan. I sighed, and picked it up.
“Why are you calling me? You live next door,” I said. Ben and his denmates were home, too. No way could I mistake the screeching and bickering travelling through the thin walls.
“Who knows what you’re up to,” Ben grumbled. “You Shifters are way too comfortable running around naked for me to ever consider a surprise visit.”
He had a point. “What do you want?”
“You’re on speaker phone. Can you settle an argument I’m having with Patty?”
“Seriously?”
He ignored the snark in my tone, and launched into a speech. “If a vamp tramp got a tramp stamp, would you call it a vamp tramp tramp stamp, or a vamp tramp stamp?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Noooo! Please don’t. You know Patty. He’ll peck away at me like a deranged leprechaun until we get someone to break the tie. It’s two and two.”
I laughed, and the tension flowed from my shoulders and neck. “My vote is for the latter. Vamp tramp stamp. I think it’s safe to cut out the redundancy.”
“I told you!” Ben bellowed, presumably at Patty. A thump followed and I envisioned Ben throwing one of his poorly-aimed, poorly-formed punches at Patty’s shoulder.
“No fair. Of course she’d side with you,” Patty muttered, his voice growing more distant until someone punctuated it with a door slam. He probably wouldn’t appreciate me pointing out I didn’t know whose side was whose when I answered.
“I feel like there should be a tongue twister poem in here somewhere,” Ben said.
“How many stamps can a vamp tramp stamp, if a vamp tramp could stamp stamps?”
“Yeah, like that, but better,” he replied.
“Ungrateful bastard.”
“Good night to you, too, sweetheart,” Ben crooned.
This time, I didn’t announced my intentions. I hung up on his laughter.
After a bit of cursing, I managed to peel off the leather pants with minimal skin loss, and hopped into the shower. Unfortunately, the fifteen minute reprieve did little to slow my racing brain, or wipe away the feeling of grime from the clubs.
After the shower, I dried my hair and checked the clock. Way too late to call
Chapter Twelve
“When all else fails there’s always delusion.”
~Conan O’Brian
The Kappa, an abnormally massive turtle-like Japanese supe who sucked living energy and slaughtered hundreds roamed free. In addition to that potential hot mess, Loretta’s killer was still on the loose, drug addicts still indulged and died on King’s Krank, the connections of the Vampire court were lost to me, and Wick and his Werewolf pack hated me.
At least I had Tristan.
Right?
Then why the heck wasn’t he answering his phone or replying to my text messages? I took a deep breath and refocused. The calm dissipated almost immediately. Oh no. I refused to become the bunny-boiling, stalker girlfriend.
My heart thumped in my ears, and my skin prickled. Why wasn’t he responding? He normally replied right away. I checked my watch. Well, maybe he was sleeping. Not everyone stayed up this late, although there was a lot of night left before dawn.
I dragged my tired, pinched toes, and sweaty thighs back to my apartment. My disappointment hung heavy in my chest. I’d secretly hoped Tristan had gone incommunicado because he used his key to wait for me at my place. Naked.
A pleasurable bolt of lightning struck my crotch at the thought.
Unfortunately, no naked Tristan. When I walked in, the air was stale and bereft of his delicious scent. Something else slithered through the apartment. Something I couldn’t quite place, but drew me forward into the room. I sniffed around like a bloodhound, but the smell evaded my detection, slipping away from my reach. I should be creeped out, but no malice hung in the air. Another fera, maybe? The one who rudely interrupted my sleep?
My phone vibrated, and I pounced on it.
Ben, not Tristan. I sighed, and picked it up.
“Why are you calling me? You live next door,” I said. Ben and his denmates were home, too. No way could I mistake the screeching and bickering travelling through the thin walls.
“Who knows what you’re up to,” Ben grumbled. “You Shifters are way too comfortable running around naked for me to ever consider a surprise visit.”
He had a point. “What do you want?”
“You’re on speaker phone. Can you settle an argument I’m having with Patty?”
“Seriously?”
He ignored the snark in my tone, and launched into a speech. “If a vamp tramp got a tramp stamp, would you call it a vamp tramp tramp stamp, or a vamp tramp stamp?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Noooo! Please don’t. You know Patty. He’ll peck away at me like a deranged leprechaun until we get someone to break the tie. It’s two and two.”
I laughed, and the tension flowed from my shoulders and neck. “My vote is for the latter. Vamp tramp stamp. I think it’s safe to cut out the redundancy.”
“I told you!” Ben bellowed, presumably at Patty. A thump followed and I envisioned Ben throwing one of his poorly-aimed, poorly-formed punches at Patty’s shoulder.
“No fair. Of course she’d side with you,” Patty muttered, his voice growing more distant until someone punctuated it with a door slam. He probably wouldn’t appreciate me pointing out I didn’t know whose side was whose when I answered.
“I feel like there should be a tongue twister poem in here somewhere,” Ben said.
“How many stamps can a vamp tramp stamp, if a vamp tramp could stamp stamps?”
“Yeah, like that, but better,” he replied.
“Ungrateful bastard.”
“Good night to you, too, sweetheart,” Ben crooned.
This time, I didn’t announced my intentions. I hung up on his laughter.
After a bit of cursing, I managed to peel off the leather pants with minimal skin loss, and hopped into the shower. Unfortunately, the fifteen minute reprieve did little to slow my racing brain, or wipe away the feeling of grime from the clubs.
After the shower, I dried my hair and checked the clock. Way too late to call
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