by Sumida, Amy
“It's smack talk,” I laughed. “We can do spank talking later, as long as your kissing improves.”
“Oh,” he chuckled, a low rumbling in his chest, “it vill improve and relocate.”
“I'll look forward to that,” I slapped his ass, a little spanking preview, before I went back to my appreciative audience.
“Thank you,” Constantin was on his feet, free of restraining hands now that Epona was gone. “That made my entire year.”
“Hey,” I pointed at him, “nobody fucks with my people but me.”
He laughed and gave me a quick hug. “Still, I appreciate it. It was a hell of a show.”
“Yes, bravo,” slurred Krystal, poor thing was trying to keep up with gods and that was virtually impossible when it came to drinking. “Send that horse-bitch packing!” A shocked silence sobered her up enough to look around. “What I say?”
“Nothing,” I laughed and shook my head, “werewolves get a little sensitive about the “b” word.”
“Oh,” her eyes got round, “sorry, Sam, never even occurred to me.”
“No prob,” Sam shrugged. “I'm not as sensitive as some of the others. I think it was more of the combination horse and bitch insult. Kind of silly sounding to us shifters.”
“I like a woman with spark,” Rain leaned in closer to Krystal.
“And I like a man with less hair,” she stared at the shiny fall of his tresses like they were personally offending her.
“What?” Rain looked shocked and confused. So very confused.
I smothered my laugh.
“I don't like men with long hair,” Krystal said slowly, like he was mentally challenged.
“But women love my hair,” he sounded like a three-year-old. “It's rock star hair and I'm a rock star.”
“I don't think I like rock stars then,” Krystal looked thoughtfully into her empty lemonade glass. “I would like some more lemonade though. Can you get me some?”
“Can I... what?” Rain looked at me like I might be able to explain the insanity of my friend.
It was the last straw on the back of my camel of laughter. I bent over double with the force of my merriment, delighting in both Krystal's frankness and Rain's discomfort. The rest of the group finally joined in, with Rain, Krystal, and Kirill being the only exceptions.
“She just don't like you,” I finally got out. “It happens.”
“No, it doesn't,” Rain looked Krystal over carefully, like she might have a warning label attached someplace.
“I don't find you all that attractive,” I shrugged.
“Yeah but you have like five-hundred lovers,” he shook his head. “You're a little too distracted to notice my good looks.”
“I still notice a good looking man, you narcissist,” I huffed. “And you're just not that hot. I'm sorry, someone had to tell you sometime.”
“You could try cutting your hair,” Krystal mused when she realized he wasn't going to get her a new drink. “And you could try being a little more courteous to thirsty ladies.”
“Cut my hair?” He lifted a hand to his hair.
“It's not like you've never worn it short,” Ilario observed. “I actually think you look better that way too.”
“Traitor,” Rain hissed.
“Hey, you're the only one who thinks rock stars have to have long hair,” Adriano piped up. “It's not like it's the eighties. I think Krystal has a point.”
“Well that's where we differ,” I shrugged and looked over at Kirill. “I like my men with long hair, gives me something to grab onto.”
“I can grab onto short hair,” Krystal insisted, still lifting her empty glass in Rain's direction until he finally took it.
“Jessica,” I called for our waitress as I looked Krystal over. “We need some coffee and water up here please.”
“And a pair of scissors,” Krystal added.
About the Author
Amy Sumida lives on an island in the Pacific Ocean where gods go to play. She sleeps in a fairy bed, high in the air, with two gravity-defying felines and upon waking, enjoys stabbing people with little needles, over and over, under the guise of making pretty pictures on their skin. She, like Vervain, has no filter but has been fortunate enough to find friends who appreciate this... or at least tell her they do. She bellydances and paints pictures on her walls but is happiest with her nose stuck in a book, her mind in a different world than this one, filled with fantastical men who unfortunately don't exist in our mundane reality. Thank the gods for fantasy.
On a serious note, she is the author of several books, including the Godhunter series, Feeding the Lwas, and The Magic of Fabric. She's been writing since she was a little girl but first decided to pursue writing as a career when she gave her high school English teacher one of her books to look over and unbeknownst to her, that teacher passed her book around to all her friends. A month later she was accosted in the halls by a teacher she didn't know, begging her to write a sequel. She's been writing novels ever since.
