actually set the fire or the other psycho who told him to. Yours. Tell me I’m wrong.”
She clamped her jaw shut, glaring at him.
“Your mistake wasn’t staying in the same place for too long. It was hunting him or going out for pizza, or whatever the fuck you do after dark. If you stay in at night, evil vampires can’t follow you home. Even if he’s old enough not to need sleep, he’s more lethargic, less logical, and can’t phase during daylight hours.”
“As much as it hurts to admit,” he continued, “the bastard is smart. So if you want to follow me around and pretend to help, then you need to be equally smart.”
“Do you know where he hangs out during the day?” she snapped. “Or where he’s been for the last few months? Because I don’t. What if he disappears for another six months? Or for good? What happens then?”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m immortal and very patient.” And a good liar. Davyn didn’t have enough patience for it to even be dubbed ‘impulse control.’ Except when it came to a tour’s expiration date. He’d be fine with putting that off, eternally. Unfortunately, that day was coming up fast, and there was no way to avoid it.
“Well, since I’m not immortal, why don’t you go enjoy the rest of your existence somewhere pretty? I’ll stay here because I have shit to kill.”
“I should hand you over to him. Make my life a lot easier.”
“Wow,” she said, deadpan. “And here I thought we’d bonded.”
“Yep. A lot easier.” And, of course, that was when he felt his shirt start to melt. Damn it. He loved this shirt. But he really should dress more appropriately for the occasion. Like his little puppet, except with style and taste. He could pull off black jeans, black boots, and a black jacket, too. He just didn’t want to.
While normally he was able to control how little or how much heat he gave off, there were a few circumstances when no method of control was enough. This time, it wasn’t stress or that he’d been using his glamour too long.
Even though his nerves were raw and he was in a horrible mood, this was a hint from the big guy. A reminder that his vacation time was almost up. In about three above-the-crust weeks, Davyn would get the Devil’s second warning. He wouldn’t get a third.
Three weeks was more than enough time to finish this job. If the hunter didn’t fuck it all up, of course. Not the best way to spend his last weeks on earth, though. Davyn should be enjoying every second, being as gluttonous and pleasure-seeking as possible, to gear up for going back. Even though he wouldn’t be in hell long, time was a tricky thing there. A few days here seemed like a century there, but that could be because of the excruciating pain used to reset his mind back to the factory settings—evil, evil, and more evil. Not many giggles where he was from.
When he saw the first hole appear in the shoulder of his shirt, he ripped the thing off. It was destroyed anyway. If he waited until after the fight was over—and there would be a fight and he would be around when it was over—he might cool off. Then he’d have to chip the synthetic fabric off. It had happened. More times than he wanted to count.
The hunter looked at him with big eyes that darted from his face to his chest to somewhere a little farther down and back again.
“Careful, puppet. You look at me like that again and I may get the wrong idea.”
She turned away, the blush on her cheeks making her even more attractive, letting him know her body was hotter than normal. Because of him. That she couldn’t hide it was a big fucking turn-on.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“Why did you take off your shirt?”
“I had a hot flash.” And was getting hotter—not because of his glamour or his boss. Because of her. Oh, the things he would do to her if he could. For starters, he’d rip every single piece of clothing off her body. Then he’d—
Fuck. Not helpful. He should kick
She clamped her jaw shut, glaring at him.
“Your mistake wasn’t staying in the same place for too long. It was hunting him or going out for pizza, or whatever the fuck you do after dark. If you stay in at night, evil vampires can’t follow you home. Even if he’s old enough not to need sleep, he’s more lethargic, less logical, and can’t phase during daylight hours.”
“As much as it hurts to admit,” he continued, “the bastard is smart. So if you want to follow me around and pretend to help, then you need to be equally smart.”
“Do you know where he hangs out during the day?” she snapped. “Or where he’s been for the last few months? Because I don’t. What if he disappears for another six months? Or for good? What happens then?”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m immortal and very patient.” And a good liar. Davyn didn’t have enough patience for it to even be dubbed ‘impulse control.’ Except when it came to a tour’s expiration date. He’d be fine with putting that off, eternally. Unfortunately, that day was coming up fast, and there was no way to avoid it.
“Well, since I’m not immortal, why don’t you go enjoy the rest of your existence somewhere pretty? I’ll stay here because I have shit to kill.”
“I should hand you over to him. Make my life a lot easier.”
“Wow,” she said, deadpan. “And here I thought we’d bonded.”
“Yep. A lot easier.” And, of course, that was when he felt his shirt start to melt. Damn it. He loved this shirt. But he really should dress more appropriately for the occasion. Like his little puppet, except with style and taste. He could pull off black jeans, black boots, and a black jacket, too. He just didn’t want to.
While normally he was able to control how little or how much heat he gave off, there were a few circumstances when no method of control was enough. This time, it wasn’t stress or that he’d been using his glamour too long.
Even though his nerves were raw and he was in a horrible mood, this was a hint from the big guy. A reminder that his vacation time was almost up. In about three above-the-crust weeks, Davyn would get the Devil’s second warning. He wouldn’t get a third.
Three weeks was more than enough time to finish this job. If the hunter didn’t fuck it all up, of course. Not the best way to spend his last weeks on earth, though. Davyn should be enjoying every second, being as gluttonous and pleasure-seeking as possible, to gear up for going back. Even though he wouldn’t be in hell long, time was a tricky thing there. A few days here seemed like a century there, but that could be because of the excruciating pain used to reset his mind back to the factory settings—evil, evil, and more evil. Not many giggles where he was from.
When he saw the first hole appear in the shoulder of his shirt, he ripped the thing off. It was destroyed anyway. If he waited until after the fight was over—and there would be a fight and he would be around when it was over—he might cool off. Then he’d have to chip the synthetic fabric off. It had happened. More times than he wanted to count.
The hunter looked at him with big eyes that darted from his face to his chest to somewhere a little farther down and back again.
“Careful, puppet. You look at me like that again and I may get the wrong idea.”
She turned away, the blush on her cheeks making her even more attractive, letting him know her body was hotter than normal. Because of him. That she couldn’t hide it was a big fucking turn-on.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“Why did you take off your shirt?”
“I had a hot flash.” And was getting hotter—not because of his glamour or his boss. Because of her. Oh, the things he would do to her if he could. For starters, he’d rip every single piece of clothing off her body. Then he’d—
Fuck. Not helpful. He should kick
Similar Books
