Undead and Uneasy by Davidson Maryjanice

Author:Davidson, Maryjanice [Davidson, Maryjanice]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Paranormal, Fiction
ISBN: 9780515145045
Publisher: Jove
Published: 2007-06-05T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Well, thanks for stopping by,” I said again, and it was even more lame than the first time I said it.

Derik, upon his quick recovery, had done some fast talking to save me from another werewolf beat-down, and now they were all leaving. And not being very subtle about wanting to get the hell out of my house, either. If I hadn’t felt so anxious, I would have been amused.

Derik limped past me, which was a big improvement, because he’d broken both legs when he’d hit bottom. These guys regenerated as fast as Sinclair and me…maybe faster. Must be their iron-rich, high-in-protein diet. Mmm…their yummy, yummy diet. I was drooling just watching them file past. How had I never noticed how delicious Antonia was?

Easy. When Antonia was around, Sinclair had also been around, and his blood was just fine. More than fine. We’d actually incorporated blood-sharing into our lovemaking and now, like a Pavlovian dog (or George on the Seinfeld episode when he equated salted cured meats with sex), all I had to do was get a whiff of someone’s delicious blood and also find myself horny as hell. Which wasn’t exactly—

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Derik asked, massaging his knee.

“Uh. No reason. Thanks again for visiting. And good luck picking up Antonia’s scent.” I’d offered to show them her and Garrett’s room, let them get a whiff of the sheets or whatever, and they’d all looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

I guess I was picturing a scene right out of a cop movie: baying bloodhounds sniffing sheets or a dirty sweater and then howling off into the night, hot on the trail. Apparently real life was different. And werewolves weren’t bloodhounds.

Which was a shame, because bloodhounds were really cute.

“Crazy fucking vampire,” Jeannie muttered, so softly she probably assumed I hadn’t heard her.

“Don’t forget your parting gifts!” I cried, sending Lara after them with a helpful shove.

“Thanks for your hospitality,” Michael said without the teensiest bit of irony. We shook hands as the others filed past. He squeezed. I squeezed. He squeezed harder. So did I. I figured anybody else’s hands would have been crushed to bloody powder by now. “We’ll be doing some checking around town and will keep you posted,” he added, slightly out of breath from our mano a bimbo.

“And I’ll call you”—I held up the card with his cell phone number on it—“if I hear anything from either of them.”

“Thanks. Have a good night.”

“You, too. Bye, Derik. Cain. Brendon. Lara. Jeannie. Michael.”

“Betsy,” Jeannie said, “I want to make clear that I only shot you because—”

I shut the door. And since it was a big heavy door about two hundred years old, it cut her off with a solid BOOM!

Did I think they had anything to do with everything that was going on? No. I really didn’t. Werewolves weren’t exactly famous for lying or subversiveness. I seriously doubted they’d—what? Snatched Antonia back, staked Garrett, then shown up at my house

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