Hank swore. Maria said something like, “If she dies, I call dibs on de master.” A huge commotion ensued and everything became a dizzying blur of images and noise.
As my world and teeth rattled, someone lifted me from the ground. I screamed from the torturous agony the contact inflicted. In mere moments, I found myself on a very large bed. My body shrank and my ears elongated. I panted profusely, tasting merino wool as my lolling tongue scraped against the expensive fabric.
My vision cleared slowly. When I finally focused, I didn’t like what I saw. Misha and his vampires had me surrounded. Most had big grins and some were shaking, trying to hold in their laughter. Misha leaned over the bed, his fists digging into the mattress, his shoulders rigid. A sinister shadow darkened his stone-cold features. “Whoever laughs first shall die by my hands,” he said in a deadly whisper.
There was such an immediate silence, I feared I’d gone deaf. I tried to sit up. Big mistake. The supersized room spun in a stomach-lurching whirl. I quickly flopped back down and shook my head to clear it. My long ears slapped against my fuzzy face. The shake had helped some, but by then I was royally pissed off.
What the hell, Misha? I told you this was a bad idea. I can’t believe you freaking did this to me. Just when I thought we were friends you had to pull a prick move like this!
That’s what I was thinking. What came out was, “Woof, woof. Yip, yip, bark, growl, bark!”
Liz leaned in close to my face, her ice blond hair hitting my little wet nose. “I think she’s trying to tell us something. Do you need to go for a walk, Celia?”
Agnes Concepción adjusted her glasses and peered down her nose at me. “No, she wants a biscuit. Celia’s always hungry.”
I growled at both of them.
“She does not want a damn biscuit,” Maria spat in her thick accent. “She wants ah steak.”
“Is that it, Celia?” Edith asked. “Do you want a steak?”
No, I don’t want a steak! I just want my body back! You all suck! Once again, “Yip, bark, bark, bark, woof,” was what they heard.
Someone wanted to kill me, Aric was getting married, and I was a damn dog. I wanted to pee on the fire hydrant I called life. What I didn’t know was that things were about to get much, much worse.
CHAPTER 8
“Bad, Celia. Off the couch!”
Liz swatted my butt with a rolled-up newspaper and had the ovaries to flip out when I bit her hand. “You’re getting hair all over the furniture, you little bitch!”
Aside from the time I was awaiting my Nursing Board results and accidently came in contact with a skunk, this was the longest I’d gone without changing back to human. The entire day was miserable. Everyone took turns walking me and trying to force steak down my throat. I gave in after a while and ate the steak—but only because I was hungry. I refused to pee on the lawn, though. After escaping Edith Annes and Agnes Concepción’s clutches, I found a bathroom and used it privately. It took some maneuvering, but I managed to use the toilet without falling in.
Misha spent the day pacing and muttering to himself. He barely glanced at me. When he did, guilt darkened the strong angles of his face. His eyebrows remained furrowed and that damn arrogant grin of his was noticeably absent. I repeatedly bared my teeth at him. You should feel bad, you jackass. I’m drinking from a damn bowl!
When nighttime arrived, I tried to make my way back to the guesthouse, figuring I could shift underneath the ground and come up inside my quarters. I was almost to the back door when strong arms grabbed me and scooped me up. “No, Celia. You will stay with me this night.” Misha’s voice sounded stiff and unyielding. I barked in protest. He ignored me, carried me to his room, and shut the door.
The minute he released me, I tried to escape. “Growling and scratching at the door will accomplish nothing,” he said. “I need to ensure your safety this night.”
I tried not to eye Misha. He wore silky black pajama bottoms and nothing else. His long blond hair hung loosely against his strong, muscular shoulders, and his chiseled abs and chest resembled stone. Any other bitch would’ve humped his leg.
Misha picked me up again. I fought against his hold. It was a pointless effort. I may have been stronger and at least twice as big as the average spaniel, but I would never have been a match against a vampire. Even still, I was an extremely stubborn spaniel, and I let out a warning growl when he placed me on the bed. He threw back his head and laughed. In a way, I couldn’t blame him. How ferocious could I have possibly been? Nevertheless, I meant business, and I was going to bite him to prove it, but then he played dirty and rubbed my belly.
I hate to admit it, but it felt pretty damn good. My back leg started twitching and I melted in his hands. I relaxed, not enough to change back, but enough so I wasn’t so ornery. Misha took advantage of my momentary lapse of anger to get ready for bed. When he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, I couldn’t help but gawk at him. If Greek gods walked the earth, Misha was Adonis. But when he slipped off the pajamas before climbing into bed, he was more reminiscent of Thor.
I jumped off the bed and grabbed his pants with my fangs, growling and shaking them at him. A big sly grin spread across his face. “Do you need to go for another walk?”
You’re just a funny, ha-ha comedian, aren’t you? Get the damn pants back on, Misha! I’ve had a rough day and I’m feeling really vulnerable.