“Well, shit,” Taran finally said. “I think we could all use a drink.”
Between the tripped-out supernatural paparazzi, the severely deranged infected vampires, and my fixation on a steamy werewolf, the last thing I wanted to do was party. But seeing as I was actually considering helping one master vamp kill another, then yeah, a few beers might not be a bad idea.
I preferred to dress for comfort rather than fashion. Yet I’d allowed Taran to shove me into her Rodeo Drive–meets-Vegas clothing and adorn me with cosmetics—just to get her off my case about possibly helping Misha. It worked.
She and Shayna happily glided ahead of us through the sea of gyrating bodies at the Watering Hole. I wrapped my arm around Emme and led her through the rough crowd. Humans naturally avoided the path of a tigress, despite my five-foot-three-inch frame, but these selfish drunks would trample anyone as tiny and passive as Emme.
Dance music pounded harder than the feet hitting the floor to Gaga’s latest. We ambled to the rear bar, where Bren was talking to two women. He winked one of his blue eyes when his werewolf nose picked up our scent. “Hey, babes. Take a seat!” He motioned to a booth a buxom brunette and her male escort had just abandoned.
“My goodness. That girl is so popular. Every time I see her, she has a different date.”
I supposed Emme missed the dance party in the guy’s pants. “She’s a prostitute, Emme.”
Emme did a double take. “She can’t be. She dresses nicely and lives in Tahoe.”
Taran laughed. We’d caught up and were close enough to be heard. “That’s because the skank charges more than we make in a week, Emme. Her biggest problems are sore knees and her growing immunity to penicillin.”
“Why would her knees—”
Emme’s deep blush told me she figured it out. Thank God. I wasn’t a “you can ask me anything” type of gal.
We were about to sit when two girls jumped into the booth. I wouldn’t have cared as much if they hadn’t knocked Emme aside in the process. The closest one paled as she caught sight of me. She yanked her friend’s arm and quickly found someplace else to be. Bren joined us, drinks in hand. He handed me a Corona with a lime before taking one for himself and having a seat next to me. “Nice scowl, Ceel. I think you actually made the brunette mess her pants.”
I watched them until they disappeared. “I barely looked at them.”
Bren rubbed at his dark scruffy beard as he laughed. “Trust me, babe. Even your subtle glances are scary as hell.”
He took a long pull on his beer and draped his arm around me. I leaned against him. “Is Danny coming?”
“No. He’s in Santa Barbara at some stick-up-your-ass science convention, trying to get laid.”
I quirked a brow. “You can get laid at a science convention?”
Bren chuckled. “I could. I don’t think Dan can. He’s trying to bang some biochemist working in the research lab next to his. For his sake, I hope she’s as hot as he claims. His last lay could scare Christ off the cross.”
I almost choked on my beer. Bren and Danny were the ultimate odd couple. Danny was human, neat, book smart, and hardworking. Bren was a lone werewolf, a slob, liked porn, and never woke before noon. And yet they remained the best of friends. Bren would take a bullet for Danny.
Bren grinned as he watched me take another a sip of my Corona. “It’s good to see you out, babe. It’s been too long.”
I shrugged. “I needed to get my mind off things.” Too much laundry, stress at work, crazy vampires hiding in bushes waiting to eat us…
“No kidding,” Taran muttered.
Bren narrowed his eyes at me. “Celia, you’re not seriously thinking about getting involved with all that vampire shit, are you?”
“How did you…” Shayna suddenly felt the need to concentrate on her martini. “Shayna! You told him?”
Bren chuckled. “I called while you were in the shower. All I did was ask her what was new and she sang like a canary.” He shook his head. “The master vamp a**holes are trying to off each other. Let them. But keep your skinny ass out of it. Nothing good ever comes from playing with leeches.”