A Cursed Moon
Page 13

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 surprised.”
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 cle**age 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.”