Pick Your Poison by Jeanette Lynn

Author:Jeanette Lynn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vampires, love, paranormal romance, funny, witches, werewolves, demons, warlocks, love spell, curvy women
Publisher: Jeanette Lynn

Expectation—Affectation

I guess I never was one for long periods of time filled with tense silence. The wait, the expectancy, as we pulled in front of a small but well kempt little yellow and white trimmed, red-bricked bungalow, was suffocating.

Divit pulled in the drive, put the car in park, and killed the engine. Leaning back in his seat, head lolling back heavily, he let out a long breath.

I sat there quietly, in a white sheet spotted with blood and nothing else, staring out the front windshield.

Sighing heavily, Divit pinched the bridge of his nose. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Glancing at him sideways, I asked, “Like what? The fact you’re breathing and it’s really unnecessary? Or why are we in front of the white picket get-up, minus the fence? Is Beav going to come rushing around the corner if June pops up and starts hollering for him? Did Lassie fall in the well too and can’t get Timmy out?”

“I... No. I meant everything that’s happened. Everything,” he gestured behind us, “back there.” Voice dry as dust, I was beginning to appreciate that fusty tone.

He’s like a musty old tome—it stinks and yet it’s warm and somehow comforting—familiar. Divit is fast becoming my favorite old book. If only I could crack his spine open and see what lays inside. What’s going on inside that head of his?

“Oh, right, that shit.” Unbuckling, I forced a bright, fake smile, even as my throat clogged, and shrugged. “Yeah, nope. I’m good.” Face pinching, lips pursed, I pushed out a puff of air, trying to stall. “Hey, is this place yours?” Finger pointing, I waved at the house out the window. “Wow. What happened, couldn’t get the fence up yet? Home Owners Association giving you grief? Never pictured you for the prissy, fussy little house kinda guy; more of a pig sty/sex den with, like, leather and satin and whips and weird shit. Hey, this works too though, you little closet, obsessive compulsive, Nancy Cleans-right, you. Bet you wear one of them kiss the cook aprons and everything.”

Opening my door to slip out, I was already scrambling for the front porch steps, my sheet tripping me up every other step, before he could utter a single curse. It was like a record or something.

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