Serial Killer Princess_A Magical Romantic Comedy_With a Body Count by RJ Blain

Author:RJ Blain [Blain, RJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07957L8KC
Publisher: Pen & Page Publishing
Published: 2018-03-06T00:00:00+00:00

On a scale of one to ten, I had never been so wrong in my life. I never wanted to witness two gorgons shopping again. They didn’t petrify anyone, but chaos came aplenty. The twenty-minute drive to Rapid City went well enough, until we reached civilization.

Humans didn’t react well to gorgons in a convertible. The first accident wasn’t my grandparents’ fault; a driver was so busy staring at them rather than the road, resulting in a wince worthy fender bender. Whether to prove they could play good humans or attempting to set a good example, my grandparents waited for the police, gave their statements, and wasted an entire hour while I waited, leaning against their car.

The vehicle won them a lot of points with me. The convertible had a back seat, it was comfortable, and pretty enough I considered added car thief to my resume of illegal activities.

The second one was questionably the fault of my grandfather, who treated yellow lights as green lights and didn’t have the common sense to yield to the hybrid-form cat lycanthrope. One smashed truck and a busted fire hydrant later, and the kitty was so mad his fur stood on end. He jumped over vehicles to get a piece of those responsible for the dents in his baby.

While fairly certain gorgons couldn’t catch lycanthropy, the hissing, spitting feline catastrophe shattered my tenuous grip on my patience. I jumped out of my grandparents’ convertible, closed the distance between us, and gave a little demonstration how a delicate flower of a princess could flatten a several hundred-pound man without breaking a sweat.

Ramming my fist into the fanged maw of a pissed off cat wasn’t the brightest move, and I deserved to be bitten. Spitting curses a match for his snarls, I drove my off hand into his gut and snapped, “I’ll skin you for your pelt, you oversized marmot!”

“He’s a clouded leopard, Tulip,” my grandmother announced.

The oversized marmot decided he’d had enough of me, spit out my fist and one of his teeth, and tossed me across the street. I hit the sidewalk hard, rolled, and admired the pretty stars dancing through my vision. Everything I’d ever been told about concussions claimed smacking my head into things wasn’t a good idea, but how could I refuse such a violent invitation?

The lycanthrope was either going to die, get beaten within an inch of his life, or otherwise be subdued. I bared my teeth and hissed, rolled to my hands and knees, and lunged forward on a collision course with my new best enemy.

I hit him at full throttle, and we rolled across the road. “I don’t care what he is!”

“But I thought you wanted a lycanthrope.” My grandmother stepped out of the car and stood over us, her hands on her hips. “Sonny, you mated yet?”

He might’ve had better luck answering without my fist shoved in his mouth. “Grandmother, we’re busy.”

“I see that. Why are you picking a fight with a lycanthrope? You’re going to get infected if you keep that up.

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