Gorgon Gone Wild: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: (Serpentine Solutions) (Misty Hollow Book 3) by H.P. Mallory & J.R. Rain

Author:H.P. Mallory & J.R. Rain [Mallory, H.P. & Rain, J.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rain Press
Published: 2023-07-13T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“Teeth?” Anarchy asked hopefully, leaning over the side of the dock to get a better look at the boat.

I couldn’t help but notice how perilous her top’s grip on her breasts was. One good sneeze and she’d be posing for an ‘Imps Gone Wild’ photo shoot. Her lovely mouth mashed into a line. “Dark ones below, I can’t believe that I’m rooting for this to be the work of some Lovecraftian swamp monster.”

I couldn’t believe I was rooting for the same thing. I wanted this to be the work of our shadowy enemy. If not, it meant that François and his brothers’ suspicions were founded and I’d let myself be taken in by a sweet-talking dead man walking. I didn’t think of myself as a particularly vapid woman and definitely not one to fall for the tricks of a conman. But... Alistair made me feel things. Things I’d never dared to let myself feel before.

You’ll get over it, I thought sourly. If being dead is the key, there are a lot of other fangy fish in the sea. You just have to finish this contract and go looking for another one—hopefully one that doesn’t have his own agenda.

My own words didn’t sound convincing, even to me. It wasn’t just any vampire that did it for me. It was this vampire, with his soulful eyes and unknown burden. The adventure-driven part of me wanted to uncover his secret, to find out what he kept hidden from everyone, and I had a feeling that maybe... just maybe, I might be the only one he’d let in.

Unless, of course, this was all a big sham, and he was just trying to seduce me to get me right where he wanted me, which seemed depressingly likely.

You won’t fall for it! I promised myself. I could only hope I was right.

Marina was standing waist-deep in the swampy water, examining the ruined boat. It had listed badly to one side, the rest of it disappearing beneath the murk, the bottom filling like a chipped bowl. Marina got one shoulder under the submerged bow and heaved upward with a grunt of effort. Water ran like streamers from the sides and the holes in the bottom. She couldn’t hold it for long—the twelve-foot airboat was around fourteen hundred pounds while dry—but she kept it aloft long enough to confirm my worst fear.

“That rip wasn’t caused by any sort of creature’s teeth,” Anarchy quipped, raising a Polaroid camera to eye level, and snapping a few pictures before Marina dropped the boat back into the swamp. Anarchy then waved the developing images energetically through the air before offering one to me. I took it with a sigh.

“Well, did we really think Alistair bit into it?” I asked, frowning, because I certainly hadn’t assumed that. I mean, just the idea was ludicrous.

“No, we didn’t think that,” Anarchy responded, while frowning at me. “I was just pointing it out.”

“Okay, great, this was definitely not the work of teeth,” I agreed, squinting at the photo.

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