by Katie May
“No!” My shout causes him to wince, and I work to moderate my volume. “No, I don’t want you to measure their...um...flabby bits.”
Real smooth, Ridley. Real smooth.
“Then what…?”
“Could you see if they have any secret babies or wives?” I question. “Pretty please?” I even go as far as to push out my bottom lip in a pout.
“Puppy dog eyes don’t work on me, sweetheart.” Lincoln rolls his eyes a second time before he finally sighs, pushing himself away from the doorframe. “But I’ll do the research for you. You’ll owe me.”
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I praise, lunging forward and wrapping my arms around his waist. He immediately stiffens underneath me, muscles rippling, before he awkwardly pats my head like one would a dog.
“You’re an affectionate little thing, aren’t you?” he questions as I finally regain my senses and step away, cheeks burning. He stares down at me through sooty lashes, appearing poleaxed.
“Sorry,” I mouth in horror. “I didn’t mean to...um…” Gesturing vaguely towards his body, I fork my fingers through my freshly curled hair. “Sorry.”
He still appears befuddled, lips pursed, but he waves off my protest with a flick of his wrist. “Don’t worry about it.”
Am I mistaken, or does it almost appear as if he’s blushing?
“I’m going to go now,” I stammer awkwardly, brushing past him to exit the room. I’m keenly aware of everywhere we touch—his sharp angles in contrast to my soft curves. It’s utterly ridiculous to be attracted to him, especially since he made it abundantly clear that he wants nothing to do with me romantically or even sexually. I need to get my head out of the gutter and focus on the other twenty-four men who actually want to be here.
Lincoln doesn’t answer, watching me unerringly as I hurry down the hall. He almost appears flummoxed, as if something I said altered his entire way of life.
I tend to have that effect on people.
As Lincoln predicted, I run into Fernando just as I turn the corner. The green-haired frog shifter is leaning indolently against the interior pillar, a cigarette dangling from his lips. When he sees me, he straightens and holds the cigarette between two fingers. Waving erratically to capture my attention, as if I could possibly miss him, he hurries over to me. He places one pale finger in the air, urging me to wait, as he drops the cigarette onto the railing and grabs a notepad from his pocket.
I don’t know if it’s his species or something else entirely, but apparently, Fernando can only ribbet.
He timidly hands me the notebook, his delicate scrawl taking up the entire page. You look really beautiful.
“Thanks, Fernando,” I say, blushing from the roots of my hair to the toes of my feet. I know that he’s only flirting with me and might not actually mean it, but I can’t help but feel giddy at his compliment. Maybe it’s because every girl wants to feel like a princess. It’s not as if I need acknowledgement from a guy to feel pretty, but it sure helps when someone notices the extra effort you put into your appearance, whether that’ll be a male or a female.
He grabs the notepad back and quickly turns to a new page. His head lowers as he writes his next message, his tongue touching his bottom lip as he concentrates.
I know I didn’t get picked for the group or solo date, he writes, but I would love to get to know you better. Maybe we can have coffee? Just the two of us?
His eyes are so hopeful as he stares up at me through his thick fringe of lashes. Honestly, Fernando could be a model if he so desired. There’s something almost ethereal about his lean muscles, broad shoulders, tapered waist, modelesque features, and green-tinted hair. He sort of reminds me of a gangster from the twenties, lurking in the underbelly of some obscure club with a cigar hanging from his luscious lips. And it’s that image alone that makes me want to know him better.
“Sure. Why not?” I concede at last with a soft smile. His eyes glimmer, true joy radiating back at me, and he opens his mouth to release an enthusiastic ribbet.
Before he can write his next reply, a hulking man lumbers forward, practically shoving the frog shifter out of the way. Even without his aviators, I would recognize him anywhere.
“Bigass Kraken,” I say in greeting.
The large man actually blushes as he ducks his head sheepishly. “Kaleb,” he corrects, raking his fingers through his short hair. It was he who introduced himself as “Bigass Kraken”—at least, that’s what he said all the girls call him. If he prefers to be called by his dick’s nickname, then more power to him.
But you don’t see me naming my vagina Slip-and-Slide Ridley and then demanding the world refer to me as such.
“I, uh, wrote you a poem,” Kaleb stutters, his bashfulness surprisingly endearing. This is the same man who also nicknamed his cock Peanut because he pees with it and it’s connected to nuts. It’s strange to see him anything less than confident. I suppose seeing me choose other guys to go on a date with would be a blow to any male’s self-esteem.
Kaleb offers me a ripped piece of paper which I take cautiously.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say, unwrapping the flowered letterhead.
“I wanted to.” Color darkens his cheeks as he once more lowers his head in a subservient move. Fernando leans forward, curiosity etched across every sharp line of his face.
Clearing my throat, I read the poem out loud,
“Sugar is sweet. Tomatoes are sour.
“I think of you. When I’m in the shower.
“You are the bread. And I am the jelly.
“Together we make. A meal in my belly.
“Give me a chance. To prove my devotion.
“I’ll make you a castle. Right in the ocean.
“I’m a Bigass Kraken. You’re a badass witch.
“Maybe this story. Will end with us hitched.”
I stare at the words for a prolonged moment of time.
Oh...wow.
Wow.
I don’t know if this is the most romantic gesture I’ve ever seen before, or the creepiest. Could it be a combination of both?
“Thank you, Kaleb,” I manage to say at last as I gently fold the letter up and place it in my pocket. “I’ll treasure this always.”
“What’s that?” He reaches for my arm suddenly, and I’m too stunned to pull away as he lightly grips my wrist and holds it up. The bracelet Keller gave me—coined my harem bracelet—stands out starkly against my pale skin. A single banshee charm dangles directly next to the clasp.
“It’s a gift.” I blush, tugging my hand until he reluctantly releases me.
“Maybe I can get you a charm too?” Kaleb perks up at the prospect, dimples blossoming on both of his cheeks. Fernando ribbets to capture my attention and then waves his notepad in the air.
I can get you a frog charm! he writes.
“We’ll see,” I reply at last, unable to contain my grin. When they turn towards each other and high-five, another giggle escapes unbidden. Waving goodbye, I hurry down the hall, only stopping when I’m bombarded a third time.
For fuck’s sake…
Liam the leprechaun slings his arm around one shoulder while Dino the t-rex shifter stomps up to the other side of me. Both men wear shit-eating grins as they corral me down the hall.
“What’s up?” I question at last when the silence threatens to implode.
“You’re going on your first group date tonight,” Dino begins.
“And Zade is one of the men attending,” adds Liam, his Irish accent curling around me.
“Just...be gentle with him, okay?” Dino finishes. When I stop abruptly, both men immediately halt as well. I stare back and forth between the two of them with raised eyebrows.
“You really care about him, don’t you?” Despite phrasing it as a question, I know the truth before they even say it.
“He’s our best friend,” Dino admits with a small shrug.
“And he deserves this,” Liam adds. “More than any of us blokes
.”
I continue to volley my gaze between the two men as I study their features, seeing nothing but sincerity in their gazes.
“You really mean that.” My voice is high in wonderment. “You’d be willing to give up your spot on the show for your friend?”
“We would love the chance to get to know you.” Dino scrapes his fingernails through his light brown hair. “But to answer your question, yes. We truly believe you’ll be able to make him happy. When he was turned....” His lips purse distastefully as if he has eaten something sour. Swallowing, he begins again, “When he was turned, everyone looked at him differently. His own parents said he would’ve been better off dead.”
“He only has us,” Liam throws in, releasing his arm from around my shoulder to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Dino. “But we want more for him.”
I’m struck by the sheer selflessness of their statements. It’s clear to see that they’ll lasso the moon for their friend if he asked. It suddenly occurs to me that these are men who don’t love easily, but when they do love, they give everything they have.
A large part of me wants to be deserving of such devotion. If they care this much about a mere friend, what would they be like if they actually fell in love?
“I’ll...I...thank you for telling me,” I settle on at last, my heart breaking a little more for Zade. I can’t even imagine the pain he must’ve endured when his soul was wrenched from the afterlife and shoved into his decaying body. What twisted fuck would do that to another person?
And...is there any way to free him?
“Now, go get your date on!” Liam flashes me a large smile, the freckles on his face appearing even more pronounced, as he gives me a light shove in the direction of the front door.
“Don’t shove a lady,” Dino jests, grabbing the leprechaun in a headlock. Liam tackles Dino onto the floor, and the men immediately start exchanging blows, their raucous laughter echoing behind me.
Men.
I’ll never understand them.
Kyler tells me I’m to meet the guys at an “unspecified location.” His words, not mine.
He almost makes it sound as if this date is actually a drug-exchange where we’ll meet in an abandoned warehouse with briefcases of cash. A gunfight will ensue, everyone will die, and I’ll saunter out of the burning warehouse five million dollars richer.
Yes, I watch a lot of movies.
Instead of a warehouse, the limo stops in front of a quaint building in a bustling stripmall. This particular area has been blocked-off with cones and tape, refusing entry to the curious public. There’s nothing significant about this dilapidated store with its faded bricks and slanted roof. A sign on the door labels it as “Paint and Whine”—whatever the hell that means.
One of the show’s crew members opens the door and leads me into what appears to be an art studio. Tables are spread around the perimeter of the room, each containing a canvas and a collection of paint. Cameras are visible in every corner, but fortunately, I see no other crew members. I don’t know how I feel about a random stranger being intimately involved in all of my dates. I know it’s expected given the nature of this show, but I much prefer for the camera operators to be invisible instead of constantly in my face. Constantly reminding me that this is nothing but a show for reality television.
“What’s going on?” I query just as Kyler steps through the back door, meticulously groomed in his form-fitting suit with his blond hair slicked back.
Ignoring me—no fucking surprise—he turns towards the camera. “Welcome to Ridley’s first group date. As you have seen previously, Ridley has chosen ten men to join her on today’s outing. Who will stay? Who will go? The stakes are higher than ever.”
“Does your ass ever bleed from the stick lodged up it?” I question seriously as he finally turns away from the camera to face me. His eyes give me an appreciatory onceover before he blanks his expression, scowling.
“For today’s date, you will be the subject of your selected guys’ paintings,” Kyler says curtly.
“That’s it?” I can’t help but sag in relief. “That doesn’t seem so bad.”
I don’t usually like attention, but this will give me a chance to talk to each of them and get to know them better. Maybe I can even ask them subtle questions about Ali. Obviously, Kyler is numero uno on my suspect list. He hasn’t once asked about the dead costume designer, despite the fact she’s been apparently working with him for years.
There could only be one reason why: because he already knows she’s dead.
“While you were at the house, we brought the selected men to an open bar,” Kyler continues. “They’re currently being dropped off by one of my employees.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose as understanding dawns on me. “Are you saying…” I sigh heavily. “Are you saying that you got all of them drunk and are now going to make them paint me?”
Why did I expect anything else from him?
Seriously, why? I should’ve known better than to think the date would be as simple as painting each other.
“It’s painting...with a twist. With a drunk twist.”
Chapter 6
I don’t even get the chance to process the fact that I’ll be on a date with a bunch of drunk and horny men before the door is thrown open.
“I’m here!” a very, very intoxicated Ethan slurs, stumbling over his own two feet. “Prepared to be dazzled.” The normally shy vampire has a beer bottle dangling from his fingers as he staggers forward. “Because I’m a sexy vamp. And I don’t sparkle.”
Quinn hurries into the room, eyes slightly glazed, and grabs Ethan’s arm before he can topple over.
“Easy there,” the incubus cautions as he helps straighten Ethan’s rumpled clothes.
Ignoring him completely, Ethan’s eyes train on me, and a dazzling smile splits open his face, two fangs poking his bottom lip. “Ridley!” Nudging Quinn in the ribs, he whispers (loudly enough for the entire world to hear), “She’s so pretty. So, so pretty. Are you still-still going to help me? Are you going to make me a-a-a sex god.”
Quinn pats Ethan’s back sympathetically. “Yes, my young prodigy.”
Well…
This is a friendship plucked straight from hell. The two of them together—Quinn’s sexiness combined with Ethan’s adorkableness—might actually kill me.
The door slams open a second time, and Ethan screeches, holding his beer bottle out as if it’s a deadly sword. Aaron, the arsonist hellhound, takes one long look at the vampire before dismissing him. He strides towards me with a confident swagger as if he believes he has the world at his fingertips.
“Ridley.” He bites his lower lip as he surveys me from head to toe.
“Aaron.” I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes. “Are you planning on lighting this building on fire?”
“With my sheer good looks?” he questions amusedly, inching a step closer. He tenderly brushes a strand of curly hair behind my ear. “Or with a match?”
I’m afraid I momentarily lose my capability of speech. Instead, I merely open and close my mouth like a fish that has been wrenched out of the ocean.
“You’re pretty cocky,” I point out, slightly breathless. This close, the smell of charcoal and fire sharpens, tinging the air and urging me to burn with him.
“Why can’t I be?” he asks lazily. “I’m on a date with a beautiful girl.”
“And nine other guys.” As if on cue, the door opens again, the tiny bells overhead jingling, and the rest of the men file in. Grant's eyes latch onto me instantly, unerringly, almost as if he’ll know where I am no matter the location. We could be in a room with thousands of people, and he’ll still be able to find me.
Criss and Jamie, the wendigo and ghost couple, are whispering back and forth to each other. Jamie appears as standoffish as always, but I notice bright splotches on Criss’s cheeks from the alcohol. When he sees me looking, he waves shyly before ducking his head into Jamie’s shoulder.
“I se
e you’re wearing your charm bracelet.” Keller’s rich baritone voice wisps around me like a thick smoke, filling every crevice of my body and leaving me trembling. Aaron, still standing in front of me, glances between us with obvious amusement.
I have no idea how the cameras will pick up the banshee’s words, and honestly, I don’t care. A part of me is glad to have a tiny piece of him to myself, a piece of him that I don’t have to share with the entire world. For all I know, they’ll add fake subtitles every time we talk.
In reply to Keller, I simply lift my hand and allow the banshee charm to dangle. Aaron lightly traces the outline of the charm before dropping his hand with a contemplative expression.
I can’t help but note the pure jealousy raging in Grant’s rustic eyes, and though it shouldn’t, it pleases me.
“Ley!” Leon barrels through the crowd until he’s able to reach me, pulling me into his arms and lifting me a foot in the air.
“Can’t. Breathe,” I gasp, patting at his back until he reluctantly puts me down. The blond-haired lion shifter is thrumming with excess energy as he bounces from foot to foot. The smell of alcohol overshadows his familiar scent of citrus and chocolate.
“I heard we’re going to paint you? Are we going to paint you? We’re going to paint you! Oh...have you ever had paint sex before? I haven’t. What even is paint? What’s sex? I know what sex is. Ohh...shiny!” He whips his head in the direction of a metallic paintbrush, reverently running his fingers through the brush. “I like to paint. Once, when I was five, I painted a cow, but my mom said it looked like a constipated rooster so she made me use the picture for fire tinder.”
“He may have had a little too much to drink,” Zade murmurs from beside me, shoving his hands into his back pockets.
“I honestly can’t tell the difference,” I whisper back.
“...And then I fell from the top of the ten-story building. You know the rumor that cats have nine lives?” His smile abruptly fades. “It’s a lie. I went plop.”
“He told me that he’s part angel and sprouted wings in order to enter your heaven,” Talon the valkyrie conspiratorially whispers from the other side of me. Both he and Zade are the only two present who don’t appear entirely wasted. I have to wonder if it’s by choice or because of their species. Some have a rather high tolerance for alcohol. Even Grant has a slightly glazed glint in his eyes as he stumbles to his easel.
