Read Online Dead Over Heels by MaryJanice Davidson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: MaryJanice Davidson
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you.”
“So, you live around here?”
“I live all over.”
“Ever been on land?”
“Yes.”
“Ever been to an Alabama barbeque?”
“No.”
“That was a joke.”
She frowned. “It wasn’t funny.”
“Well, I’m tired. And thirsty. And starving. Shouldn’t have mentioned barbeque. I—hey, where’d you go?” Because she’d disappeared, dropping out of sight with a flash of her tail.
“Well, sheee-it,” he muttered. “Meet the prettiest gal ever and scare her away in five minutes. Nice work, Con.”
It didn’t seem to be his week, that was for damned sure.
Chapter 3
A couple of minutes later, she was back. “Say, hi there!”
“Hello again.” She tossed shiny things into his boat. Tiny . . . headless things. Fish. She had caught and killed three small silver fish for him.
“I am aware that bipeds can be unusually squeamish,” she said, picking a scale out of her unusually sharp teeth, “so I killed them for you.”
His gorge rose, and he fought it down. This wasn’t a meal, this was bait! “Uh, thanks, Ree.”
“Reanesta.”
“Yeah, I’m stickin’ with Ree. I, uh, it’s not that I’m not grateful, but I can’t eat these like this.”
“Like what? Shall I bite the fins off for you?”
“No!” he shouted. Then, more quietly, “I mean, no thank you. Listen, I couldn’t never even eat sushi without wanting to puke.”
She frowned at him. “But you need the moisture as well as the protein.”
“I know . But I can’t. It’s a mental block thing.”
“You require them cooked?”
“Yup.”
“But we have no fire. So you must eat them as they are.”
“Yeah, but I can’t.” Inwardly: Some survival expert! Well, what his viewers didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. “See, usually my crew has food, and I don’t have to actually do the things I tell people to do.”
“Watch me, Con. It’s easy.” And she reached into the boat, snatched up a fish, and crunched. He watched, wide-eyed, as she demolished the thing with her small, sharp teeth, wiping a dot of blood off her cheek when she was finished. “Ah! Delicious. See?”
He leaned over the boat and retched. Oh, you’re making a great impression, asshole! he thought as he barfed.
“Oh, dear.”
“Please don’t do that again,” he begged.
“I foresee problems ahead.”
“Ya think?”
“Let me do so,” she said. “I will come back.” And she was gone again.
He lay back in the boat and thought about what an idiot he was.
Chapter 4
H e must have dozed, because a gentle rapping on the lone oar woke him up. He sat up and there was Ree, holding out a fistful of what looked like puffy seaweed.
“We call this Traveler’s Grass,” she explained. “It grows in salt water, but it won’t dehydrate you and will fill your stomach.”
“Well, I never was a salad man, but you know what they say about beggars and choosers.”
“No.”
“Never mind,” he said, accepting the clump of seaweed. He put some cautiously in his mouth, chewed, then took another bite.
“Slowly,” she cautioned, “or you will vomit again.”
“Don’t wanna do that ,” he said with his mouth full. This . . . wasn’t bad. A little briny, sure, but his stomach wasn’t resisting and that was the important thing. And the more he ate, the more he wanted. He finished the fistful in less than a minute. “Wow, thanks, Ree! God, I feel better.”
“I will bring you more. I will come back.”
“Not one for long good-byes, are you?” he shouted at her disappearing tail.
In another minute she’d brought an armful and plopped it into the boat. “Perhaps once you’ve had more of this, you’ll be sensible about the fish. You must have fresh water.”
“For such a pretty gal,” he said, chewing, “you’re a pretty big nag.”
“And for such a helpless biped, you’re remarkably unwilling to save your own life.”
“Hey, I bet you’ll find people all over the world who don’t eat raw fish.”
“Stupid
“So, you live around here?”
“I live all over.”
“Ever been on land?”
“Yes.”
“Ever been to an Alabama barbeque?”
“No.”
“That was a joke.”
She frowned. “It wasn’t funny.”
“Well, I’m tired. And thirsty. And starving. Shouldn’t have mentioned barbeque. I—hey, where’d you go?” Because she’d disappeared, dropping out of sight with a flash of her tail.
“Well, sheee-it,” he muttered. “Meet the prettiest gal ever and scare her away in five minutes. Nice work, Con.”
It didn’t seem to be his week, that was for damned sure.
Chapter 3
A couple of minutes later, she was back. “Say, hi there!”
“Hello again.” She tossed shiny things into his boat. Tiny . . . headless things. Fish. She had caught and killed three small silver fish for him.
“I am aware that bipeds can be unusually squeamish,” she said, picking a scale out of her unusually sharp teeth, “so I killed them for you.”
His gorge rose, and he fought it down. This wasn’t a meal, this was bait! “Uh, thanks, Ree.”
“Reanesta.”
“Yeah, I’m stickin’ with Ree. I, uh, it’s not that I’m not grateful, but I can’t eat these like this.”
“Like what? Shall I bite the fins off for you?”
“No!” he shouted. Then, more quietly, “I mean, no thank you. Listen, I couldn’t never even eat sushi without wanting to puke.”
She frowned at him. “But you need the moisture as well as the protein.”
“I know . But I can’t. It’s a mental block thing.”
“You require them cooked?”
“Yup.”
“But we have no fire. So you must eat them as they are.”
“Yeah, but I can’t.” Inwardly: Some survival expert! Well, what his viewers didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. “See, usually my crew has food, and I don’t have to actually do the things I tell people to do.”
“Watch me, Con. It’s easy.” And she reached into the boat, snatched up a fish, and crunched. He watched, wide-eyed, as she demolished the thing with her small, sharp teeth, wiping a dot of blood off her cheek when she was finished. “Ah! Delicious. See?”
He leaned over the boat and retched. Oh, you’re making a great impression, asshole! he thought as he barfed.
“Oh, dear.”
“Please don’t do that again,” he begged.
“I foresee problems ahead.”
“Ya think?”
“Let me do so,” she said. “I will come back.” And she was gone again.
He lay back in the boat and thought about what an idiot he was.
Chapter 4
H e must have dozed, because a gentle rapping on the lone oar woke him up. He sat up and there was Ree, holding out a fistful of what looked like puffy seaweed.
“We call this Traveler’s Grass,” she explained. “It grows in salt water, but it won’t dehydrate you and will fill your stomach.”
“Well, I never was a salad man, but you know what they say about beggars and choosers.”
“No.”
“Never mind,” he said, accepting the clump of seaweed. He put some cautiously in his mouth, chewed, then took another bite.
“Slowly,” she cautioned, “or you will vomit again.”
“Don’t wanna do that ,” he said with his mouth full. This . . . wasn’t bad. A little briny, sure, but his stomach wasn’t resisting and that was the important thing. And the more he ate, the more he wanted. He finished the fistful in less than a minute. “Wow, thanks, Ree! God, I feel better.”
“I will bring you more. I will come back.”
“Not one for long good-byes, are you?” he shouted at her disappearing tail.
In another minute she’d brought an armful and plopped it into the boat. “Perhaps once you’ve had more of this, you’ll be sensible about the fish. You must have fresh water.”
“For such a pretty gal,” he said, chewing, “you’re a pretty big nag.”
“And for such a helpless biped, you’re remarkably unwilling to save your own life.”
“Hey, I bet you’ll find people all over the world who don’t eat raw fish.”
“Stupid
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