some back.
“You are unbelievable. You either have amnesia or you’re the smarmiest buttwank I’ve ever known. I owe you nothing. I’ll be at your office tomorrow morning before I register at the modeling agency and then we can talk on a need only basis. Period.”
He was still on the floor and I actually felt a tiny bit bad. However, I was glad he was down and I left before he could come after me and get his payback. This job was sucking so bad and I had a feeling it was only going to get worse.
Chapter 5
“If I told you once I told you twenty times, Blood Sucker. If you hold your needles like that it’s gonna be lopsided,” Granny chastised Dwayne as they knitted up a storm.
“You’re just pissy because I’ve already knitted twelve scarves to your nine, Fido,” Dwayne huffed, knitting like the Devil himself was on his heels.
The living room was a disaster. Yarn, needles and patterns littered the overturned furniture. My BFF and Granny sat on the floor in the middle of the calamity sweating up a storm. Well, Granny sweated. Vampyres didn’t have pores. The scarves were hideous—all holey and messy and weird, but there was a ton of them. Completely unable to piece together any probable story of what had happened, I stood in silence and gaped.
“Close your mouth. You’ll catch flies,” Granny informed me, not even glancing up from the fuchsia thing she was creating.
“Did you bang him?” Dwayne asked while still completely absorbed in his puke green masterpiece. “I have money riding on it.”
“No, I didn’t bang him,” I yelled. “What in the hell happened here?” I hoped my volume and quick change of subject would throw them.
No such luck.
“I say the hickey on your neck proves my bang theory,” Dwayne said, held up the horrific scarf and dropped his needles in exhaustion. “I win, Furball.”
“Bull honkey,” Granny snapped. “My quality is far superior.”
“There was nothing in the rules that implied quality,” Dwayne stated calmly, secure in his victory.
“What happened to the living room?” I asked as I began to right the furniture.
“Well, we had a little debate,” Granny said, eyeing the pile of crap they’d created.
“It turns out Granny has sharper fangs and a slightly better right hook and I’m faster and have a far superior sense of smell,” Dwayne informed me.
“That ain’t nothing to brag about, Vein Eater,” she sniffed indignantly. “Fangs trump smell any day of the week.”
“She has a point,” I added.
Dwayne laughed and wrapped a pink scarf around his neck. “I can smell species.”
This shocked and silenced both me and Granny. I was totally unaware that Vamps could identify species by scent. That was huge. I could scent a shifter and I knew if it was a wolf, but it took more than just smell to correctly identify what kind of shifter.
“I call bullshit,” Granny said and wound a baby blue scarf around her neck.
“That was a rabbit that delivered the pizza,” Dwayne said and handed me a shiny silver scarf. “You’ll need this to cover the welt on your neck.”
Ignoring the comment and the ugly, holey neckwear, I zeroed in on Grandma. “You ordered pizza? From Juju?”
Juju was a rabbit shifter and made the best pizza known to man. It was so damn good that every wolf in the surrounding area had voluntarily given up eating rabbit in their animal form. No one would take the risk of accidentally eating Juju. No one.
“Yes, I did and apparently Bat Boy isn’t joking. You knew he was a rabbit?” she demanded.
“Of course,” Dwayne answered smugly. “And he’s boffing a weasel.”
“Juju and Sara Mary Munchouse are doing the nasty?” I gasped and dropped down on an upended plaid ottoman. That was too much to stomach. Juju was five feet tall and weighed a hundred pounds sopping wet and Sara Mary was six feet tall and came in at a conservative three hundred. The physical mechanics were mind-boggling. Shoving the images into
“You are unbelievable. You either have amnesia or you’re the smarmiest buttwank I’ve ever known. I owe you nothing. I’ll be at your office tomorrow morning before I register at the modeling agency and then we can talk on a need only basis. Period.”
He was still on the floor and I actually felt a tiny bit bad. However, I was glad he was down and I left before he could come after me and get his payback. This job was sucking so bad and I had a feeling it was only going to get worse.
Chapter 5
“If I told you once I told you twenty times, Blood Sucker. If you hold your needles like that it’s gonna be lopsided,” Granny chastised Dwayne as they knitted up a storm.
“You’re just pissy because I’ve already knitted twelve scarves to your nine, Fido,” Dwayne huffed, knitting like the Devil himself was on his heels.
The living room was a disaster. Yarn, needles and patterns littered the overturned furniture. My BFF and Granny sat on the floor in the middle of the calamity sweating up a storm. Well, Granny sweated. Vampyres didn’t have pores. The scarves were hideous—all holey and messy and weird, but there was a ton of them. Completely unable to piece together any probable story of what had happened, I stood in silence and gaped.
“Close your mouth. You’ll catch flies,” Granny informed me, not even glancing up from the fuchsia thing she was creating.
“Did you bang him?” Dwayne asked while still completely absorbed in his puke green masterpiece. “I have money riding on it.”
“No, I didn’t bang him,” I yelled. “What in the hell happened here?” I hoped my volume and quick change of subject would throw them.
No such luck.
“I say the hickey on your neck proves my bang theory,” Dwayne said, held up the horrific scarf and dropped his needles in exhaustion. “I win, Furball.”
“Bull honkey,” Granny snapped. “My quality is far superior.”
“There was nothing in the rules that implied quality,” Dwayne stated calmly, secure in his victory.
“What happened to the living room?” I asked as I began to right the furniture.
“Well, we had a little debate,” Granny said, eyeing the pile of crap they’d created.
“It turns out Granny has sharper fangs and a slightly better right hook and I’m faster and have a far superior sense of smell,” Dwayne informed me.
“That ain’t nothing to brag about, Vein Eater,” she sniffed indignantly. “Fangs trump smell any day of the week.”
“She has a point,” I added.
Dwayne laughed and wrapped a pink scarf around his neck. “I can smell species.”
This shocked and silenced both me and Granny. I was totally unaware that Vamps could identify species by scent. That was huge. I could scent a shifter and I knew if it was a wolf, but it took more than just smell to correctly identify what kind of shifter.
“I call bullshit,” Granny said and wound a baby blue scarf around her neck.
“That was a rabbit that delivered the pizza,” Dwayne said and handed me a shiny silver scarf. “You’ll need this to cover the welt on your neck.”
Ignoring the comment and the ugly, holey neckwear, I zeroed in on Grandma. “You ordered pizza? From Juju?”
Juju was a rabbit shifter and made the best pizza known to man. It was so damn good that every wolf in the surrounding area had voluntarily given up eating rabbit in their animal form. No one would take the risk of accidentally eating Juju. No one.
“Yes, I did and apparently Bat Boy isn’t joking. You knew he was a rabbit?” she demanded.
“Of course,” Dwayne answered smugly. “And he’s boffing a weasel.”
“Juju and Sara Mary Munchouse are doing the nasty?” I gasped and dropped down on an upended plaid ottoman. That was too much to stomach. Juju was five feet tall and weighed a hundred pounds sopping wet and Sara Mary was six feet tall and came in at a conservative three hundred. The physical mechanics were mind-boggling. Shoving the images into
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