Midlife Fairy Hunter: The Forty Proof Series, Book 2 by Mayer Shannon

Author:Mayer, Shannon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hijinks Ink Publishing
Published: 2020-04-22T16:00:00+00:00

12

Sleep is something not to be taken lightly, especially if you are over forty. So many things can disrupt it. Aching muscles and joints. The need to pee. Bad dreams. Hot flashes. Dry mouth. A raging werewolf.

That last one I really wouldn’t recommend.

“What the actual duck is going on here?” Sarge roared, snapping me out of my deep, relaxing, alcohol-induced sleep. I jerked to one side, my hands going for my knives, which of course I didn’t have on me. But score one for me and my training! My roll took me out of bed and onto the floor, away from danger.

Floor. Where the hell was I? I stared at the floor, recognized that I was still in Corb’s loft. Only this was not my room. I peeked up over the edge of the king-sized bed—Corb’s—to see that he still lay on the other side of the mattress, the sheets pooled around his waist. Shirtless, no less.

“Morning, Sarge.” Corb ran a hand over his head. “Can I help you?”

Sarge’s eyes glittered with a sharp amber that all but screamed wolf as he glared at Corb. “I came to talk to you, and I find this ducking traitor in your bed.”

Sarge shot me a look that had me sitting up and then wobbling to my feet, muscles protesting despite the Advil from the night before, but I knew better than to show any weakness to a mean dog like him. Seriously, what the hell had gotten into him? Then again, it fit with the others. No matter how much I liked this mushy side of Corb, none of them were acting like themselves.

I stumbled around the edge of the bed, struggling to stay upright. “Listen, I know a cranky-ass dog when I see one. Don’t make me swat you with a newspaper!”

His mouth thinned, and his eyes glittered with nothing short of hatred. “I’d like to see you try.”

I pointed a finger at him. “You want me to stuff my fingers in your nose again? This time I’ll yank hard enough to tear you a new nostril!”

Sarge growled at me and I glared in response. What in the world was his problem? Corb swung his legs out of the bed and stood up. “Go easy, man. It’s been a rough night. Meow”—he shook his head—“damn it.”

I grinned, my mean streak showing up. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that. Sarge, what do you say when you try to talk about what happened to the mentors and the trainees?”

“What do you mean?” he growled.

Both of my eyebrows shot up. “I mean when you and the trainees got knocked out by Douche Canoe and Sean O’Sean? Also, that is a terrible name, his parents had to know he was going to get teased.”

Sarge stared hard at me, his current hatred forgotten for just a moment. “How do you know oink oink oink?” His eyes bugged out and I fell forward on the bed, belly laughing.

Jaysus, my life was complete. I’d heard a werewolf oink like pig and I could die happy now.

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