by Cecy Robson
Celia’s lips parted. “You joined Aric’s pack because of us?”
“Why else would I have signed up for this Den shit? Because let me tell you, that ex-lover of yours is a ballbusting hard-ass. You wouldn’t believe the crap he expects me to do.”
She watched me closely, I guess waiting for me to say more. I didn’t, though, and took another beer out the fridge. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
I gave her a stiff nod in response. Hell, Celia would risk her life for me. The least I could do is return the favor. She slipped back to the other side of the counter and resumed eating. “You’re not going to end up alone, kid.” She swallowed hard at my revelation but then took another bite. “We’re going to get married.”
That made her smile. “Are we?”
“Totally.” I kept munching and popped open a new bag of Doritos. “It’ll be an open marriage, of course.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Of course.”
“Oh hell yeah. Dan’s eventually going to marry—probably some fugly chick at the rate he’s going.” I shuddered. “They’ll go on to make fugly-ass babies and where will that leave me? Shit, you know I don’t cook. And someone has to clean.”
“Mmm. Cook and clean, too. You really know how to woo a gal.”
My grin widened. Ceel was a hell of an audience for all my bullshit. “I’ll come home—after a hard night of bartending or banging some hot broad—and you’ll be waiting with my breakfast, dressed in an apron and stilettos.” I thought about it. “Unless your figure starts to go. Then it might have to be a naughty nurse outfit—just to cover some of that sagging shit up. It’s the perfect arrangement. What do you say?”
“Oh, hot damn and golly, Bren, who could resist such a generous offer?”
I would have believed her if she hadn’t nailed me in the head with an apple from the fruit bowl. I caught it on the rebound and took a bite. “Thanks, Ceel.”
We finished our sandwiches while continuing to rip into each other, had a couple more, and washed them down with a blackberry pie. “Do you want me to pick you up, or do you just want me to meet you at the club?”
Celia licked the last trace of blackberry goodness off her top lip. “You still want to go out? After what we just went through outside?”
I grinned. “A bet’s a bet. Besides, you can’t let a bunch of spooks ruin your good time.”
“I guess.” Celia stiffened before her head whipped toward the sliding glass doors leading out to her deck. She rushed to the doors. I followed, my wolf sensing something stirring outside. “Oh . . . my God.”
I slung an arm around her shoulders when I saw what had her lids peeling back. Wisps and shimmering veils of silver and white lifted from where we’d pimp-slapped La Llorona back to hell, and from where the shreds of screeching fabric had met their end. One by one, thirty, forty, maybe fifty ghosts swirled their way into the sky. “Huh. Well, will you look at that?”
She slowly turned her head to face me. “There’s an army of ghosts taking off to the moon in my backyard, and this is seriously all you have to say?”
“Relax, Ceel, this is a good thing. It means we shattered whatever nasty magic trapped La Llorona’s victims in her dress and compelled them to want to devour our blood and guts. Given how long she’s been prowling the earth, it probably took some time for her power to fully dissolve.” I pointed upward. “Her victims are free now and have a one-way ticket up to the pearly gates, babe. So, we going out?”
She smiled, watching the spirits drift away. “Yeah, sure. I guess we have reason to celebrate.” She jumped when the transparent image of a little boy skipped barefoot up to the glass door. Big eyes blinked back and an even bigger grin greeted Celia. He waved at her with his little hands. Celia waved back and chuckled when the little boy blew her a kiss.
We watched as his little body elongated into one long swirl that joined the others spiraling into the sky.
I tugged Celia against me and whispered into her ear. “Hey, Ceel. Do you think that was the little puke who wanted a sip from your boob?”
Chapter Five
After a quick shower back at my place, I met Celia at the Watering Hole. The music blared and the colored lights flashed to the beat of some Lady Gaga song. I found Celia dancing on the floor, surrounded by a cluster of Misha’s vamps who dressed like naughty Catholic schoolgirls. I rolled my eyes. That master vamp asshole she was shacking up with wanted her watched closely.
Celia had changed from her sweaty, evil-ghost-smeared clothes into a sheer white top with a tight little black camisole underneath. Her jeans were dark and her boots black. Anyone would think she dressed for style. Nah, it was all about comfort.
I watched her for a while. That gal was well aware of her body and how to move it. Aric and her must’ve had a hell of a time together. It sucked that no one paid attention to her now. As always, humans gave her ample space. A tiger’s presence had that effect.
Celia inched her way from the group when two of the naughty Catholics began to dance provocatively against each other. Shit like that made her uncomfortable. The vamps didn’t care. It was always all about them. More attention meant more power—power over humans who begged to have sex with them. The vamps obliged them willingly, getting laid left and right, while they pierced their prey with their fangs and took small amounts of blood.
The one with the pigtails and little librarian glasses laughed when the chick with long black hair flicked her tongue on her plunging neckline. My hate for vamps aside, it was kind of hot. They continued to grind, garnering the lustful stares of patrons and basking in the attention. I guessed the tiny little uniforms weren’t enough to get the interest they desired . . . nor the pheromones they emitted each time they breathed.
Like a row of falling dominos, males popped wood around the scantily clad vamps. Celia did a double-take, scenting their arousal. She backed away, right into some asshole trying to snap a picture of the gyrating vamps with his cell phone. The loser dropped his phone and stumbled backward when he caught Celia’s defensive posture and uneasy expression. She lowered her gaze to appear less threatening. It didn’t work. The guy continued to back away, leaving his cell phone on the floor where some bigger dude mashed it with his foot.
Celia crossed her arms and left the floor. I knew what she was thinking, that her looks had scared him. No, babe. That would be that little feline you keep closely in check.
Celia didn’t get how beautiful she was—long sexy hair, large green eyes that saw right through you, and a killer body anyone with a libido would drag off to bed. Aric never could keep his eyes off of her . . . what blows is neither could that bloodsucker, Misha. Both had managed to get close to her, but only because weres and vamps didn’t scare easily. Problem was Misha was getting a little too close now.
The sea of bodies parted as I advanced toward Celia. I had the power to draw back my beast just enough to blend in among humans, a trick I’d learned being a lone. I never needed that extra aggression. My height and bulk was enough for humans to back the hell up. I hurried along, and just to give her a little love, grabbed Celia’s ass like it was on sale.
She slipped out of my sight before I could blink and appeared behind me, rewarding my oh-so-loving touch with a ferocious wedgie.
“Ow! What the hell was that for?”
Celia released enough of my boxers so one of my boys slipped back in place. “You grabbed my butt.”
“I was just being affectionate! Let go so I can still knock up some lucky gal one day.”
She tugged one last time for emphasis then released. I whirled around and tried to coax the gang out of my stomach and back home to the front of my pants. “Damn, Ceel, you could’ve cost me a few pups.”
“You seriously want to have kids?”
I yanked my black T-shirt out of my jeans just to give my crew a little more breathing room and smirked. “You seem surp
rised.”
She played with the edges of her long mane. “It’s not that I don’t think you’d make a good dad, but you’re such a hound, I never thought you’d consider settling down.”
I clasped her hand and pulled her to me. “Who said anything about settling down?” I dipped her and planted a raspberry on her neck. She laughed and pushed me away. It was all in good fun. Damn shame Misha’s vampires didn’t appreciate my awesome sense of humor.
The four she-vamps abandoned their meals and stormed to us. Within seconds they had us surrounded, their hisses sharp enough to slice the club air thick with sweat and lust. An ice blonde protruded her nails and snarled. “Is this mongrel bothering you, Celia?”
Celia stepped between us. “No, Liz. You know Bren’s my buddy.”
Liz lowered her lids, her tone dangerous. “The master wouldn’t appreciate him fondling what’s his.”
My grin widened. “That wasn’t a fondle. That was a kiss.” I shrugged. “I fondled her ass before the smooch, but you sluts missed it since you were staking out your next meal.”
“Let me make myself clear.” Celia’s glare fixed on the blonde. “I don’t belong to Misha, and my friends are not to be touched.”
The vamps took Celia’s growls out on me. They circled slowly like a cackle of hyenas, donning stilettos sharp enough to puncture a sternum. I laughed without humor. Maybe that was the point of their choice of footwear. I flexed for them. What could I say? I was one classy mo-fo. “That’s right, sweethearts. You only wish you could touch this.” I waved them off. “Now run along and gather up some virgins.”
“Bren is who I came to meet,” Celia said when one of the vamps advanced. “I want to spend time alone with him. I’ll catch up with you after you . . . ah, eat.” The vamps hesitated when Celia made it clear it was time to scat. She sighed. “That’s an order,” she mumbled, as if embarrassed to give a direct command.
The ice blonde nodded and slowly sashayed her way back to where the throng of idiots pitching tents anxiously awaited the vamps’ return. The others followed one after the other except for the naughty Catholic with the jet black hair—the one with the long flickering tongue. Not that I’d noticed. She slinked her way to me. She was tall to begin with, but the thigh-high boots she wore left her face just a few inches below mine.
“Edith Anne,” Celia warned.
“Just saying good-bye to your pet, Celia,” she answered with a phony pout, not bothering to glance her way. She licked her overly glossed lips and ran the nail of her middle finger down the length of my nose, speaking in a tone that suggested sex and slaughter all in one breath. “A word of warning, little doggie. Some things are dangerous if you touch.”
I snapped her nail off with my teeth and spit it on the floor. “You got that much right, sweetheart.”
Fury flared behind her coal eyes and her incisors elongated to fall past her collagen-injected lips. For a second, I thought my wolf would get a chance to play again. My lip curled. I’ve got chompers too, bat-girl. She disappointed me by backing away, her glare telling me she’d prefer to take my wolf up on his challenge.
“Remind me to tell Misha how well you follow orders, Edith.”
Celia’s threat broke Edith’s eye contact with me. She quickened her steps and joined the others, her hips swinging hard enough to smack a baseball into left field. Not that I was watching or anything. “Is she wearing panties, Ceel?”
Celia groaned. “I don’t know. I don’t care. But knowing Edith, probably not.”
The she- vamps returned to jiggling their cleavage like world hunger depended on it. “Friends of yours?”
Celia chuckled. “Hardly. They barely tolerate me, but I’m not working for Misha to win a popularity contest.”
I clasped her hand and led to the bar. “So why’d you bring them?” I bounced and bartended at the Hole Thursday night through Saturday for extra bucks. My pal, Ed, was mixing drinks that night. He saw me coming and immediately dropped a bucket of Coronas on the bar for us, shoving limes down the long necks just like I liked them. “Thanks, Ed.”
Celia sat on the stool next to me and crossed her legs. “I didn’t bring them. Misha popped a blood vessel when I told him about our tussle with La Llorona and her babies.” She lifted a beer from the bucket and motioned with it to the dance floor. “I give you my bodyguards for the night.”
The vamp with the pigtails wrapped her legs around some frat boy and rode him like a Budweiser Clydesdale. His buddies whooped and pump their fists, oblivious to the fact there pal was just another morsel with legs. I laughed. “That’s one hell of a team you got there, Ceel. Can I request their services next time my body needs a guardin’?”
“Believe me, I tried to ditch them, but they shadowed me here.”
I took a long pull of my beer. “Freak-ass spirit or not, your buds there would’ve come along. Misha doesn’t strike me as the trusting sort. Betcha my next paycheck he wants to keep an eye on you.”
“You’re right. But he means well enough.” She took another glance at the good Catholics. “Despite who he insists watches out for me.”
A word to the wise: never trust a vampire. “Ceel, I don’t like how chummy you and that prick are getting. Vamps are only out for themselves. Whatever the hell is going on between you two, don’t fool yourself into thinking Misha’s more than he is or that he wouldn’t throw you to a pride of werelions to save his ass.”
“I’m not stupid, Bren. I know Misha’s out for Misha.” Celia wouldn’t look at me when she spoke; instead she stared off into the crowd of sweat-soaked and dancing bodies. “But he’s not so bad. He does have a heart.”
I swore in my head, not crazy about her growing endearment toward the idiot. I hated her living with Misha. Hell, I hated her talking to him, but I knew better than to push. Unlike most others I could’ve intimidated, Celia pushed back—hard. For all five feet three, she was a strong little thing.
“So why are the she-vamps dressed in those uniforms?” I asked in order to change the subject.
“They always dress like that.” She shrugged and tried to hide her smirk. “Misha says it’s because they’re good Catholics.”
I finished my bottle and reached for another when Celia jumped hard enough to slosh her beer across her dark jeans. Her eyes widened as they cut through the crowd and fixed on the steps leading down to the dance floor and, good God . . . I almost shit myself.
Dan. My roommate. My buddy. My BFF for life looked as if he’d been attacked by a mob of John Travoltas.
He took in the sea of bodies below him and bounced his head—off beat mind you—to some Maroon Five remix as if gathering his courage. And hell, he needed it to survive the catastrophic getup hugging his skinny ass and scrawny form.
Celia blinked, watching Dan’s head bop and zigzag on his shoulders like a rooster in midstride. “Is that . . . is that a leisure suit he’s wearing?” she managed to spit out. I nodded like a dumbass, still mesmerized by the amount of polyester covering his body. “Are ”—she swallowed hard—“are the seventies, like, back?”
She wasn’t asking me. She was begging me to tell her yes. “If they are, I’m going to track the asshole who brought ’em back and beat his ass.”
Dan adjusted the extra wide lapels of his baby blue suit and smoothed the collar of his matching silk shirt. Jesus, he even had a paisley hanky shoved into his breast pocket.
And because the look didn’t scream “I’ve never had my cherry popped and never will” enough, Dan had attempted to slick back the Brillo pad of curls he called hair.
The hair flattened out on the sides but only partially on top. Fantastic. All he’d managed to do was mullet his ass. His face lit up and he waved when he saw us.
Celia clasped her hand over her mouth in horror. “You can’t do this to him, Bren. You can’t have him try to get laid in this . . . ensemble.”
Humor drove through the stupefied repulsion Dan’s suit had caused and fired its way onto my face. “Heh, heh.” My shoulders shook. “Heh, heh, heh.” Celia elbowed me hard as Dan drew closer. The dancers paused mid-shimmy just to gape and point—and laughed out loud when he almost tripped over the helm of his bell-bottoms.
“Heh, heh, heh, heh.”
“Don’t laugh, Bren,” Celia insisted. “Whatever you do, do not laugh at— Oh hey, Danny!”
I busted out laughing; no man should ever wear that many dyed chemicals on his skin. Hell, I could almost see him getting cancer.
Dan stopped short and pushed his sliding glasses back up his nose. “What’s so funny?”
“You, man. It looks like Sonny Bono threw up on you.” I took another swig of my beer and almost choked on his puzzled reaction. “Shit, Dan, how the hell are you going to get some ass in this monstrosity?”
“It’s not about the clothes, it’s about the attention they’ll bring me.” He shoved the hanky further into his pocket. “Research shows getting noticed is the first step to meeting someone, and that more flashy attire keeps attention focused on you. Besides, it’s a nice suit. I paid a lot of money for it.”
Celia forced a smile. “The blue does bring out your olive skin and brown eyes.”
I nodded in agreement. “It also screams ‘I’m a virgin and will blow you for fashion advice.’ ” I handed him a Corona. “I’ll tell you what, Dan. You get laid tonight, in that suit, and I’ll throw in next month’s rent.” I pointed at him. “And to sweeten the deal, I’m not even holding ‘hot chick’ as a requirement. Semi-attractive and non-blind is good enough.”
Just then, a semi-attractive, non-blind redhead in a striped tube top snaked her way to the bar and ordered some girly drink in a pineapple. Here’s your chance, I mouthed to Dan.
Dan and his suit leaned against the bar. “Here, let me buy you a drink.”
