Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,37

were leaving.”

“No. I am sworn to protect you. A Dalvahni warrior is true to his word.”

Grim was staying? Out of duty, of course. Still, the pronouncement made Sassy’s insides flutter.

Evan and Duncan were handsome and Conall, Mr. Bleak Intimidation himself, was fatally attractive. Fatally being the operative word, but Grim was more than another pretty face. He radiated a quiet strength that inspired confidence. Sure, sometimes he came off the teensiest bit bossy and overbearing. Okay, the guy was a regular despot and shockingly narrow-minded about certain things—Evan, in particular—but he made Sassy feel safe.

“Wonderful.” Sassy kept her tone light. A girl had her pride, after all. “With you and Evan on the job, that old witch won’t stand a chance.”

Grim’s face darkened. “You cannot trust Evan. Tell her, Conall.”

Sassy held up her hand. “No need. I know Conall thinks that Evan tried to kill his wife.” She gave the captain a serene smile. “I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, it’s been a long day.”

Lifting the filthy hem of Trey’s robe, Sassy flounced out of the foyer.

Chapter Twelve

Sassy sagged against the bedroom door, her legs trembling from reaction. She’d played it cool in front of Grim and Conall, but the episode with Evan had given her the shakes. Monster Evan was big and scary, and not very bright. He couldn’t help it if the witch had mickeyed his food.

Things had been touch-and-go for a while. Still, she thought she’d handled the situation well, considering it was the first time she’d de-hulked anyone.

Grim obviously didn’t agree. Grim was a big old grouch.

Grim, her sigh-worthy god of gloom and doom, her self-appointed bodyguard. If she weren’t engaged, she’d have her wicked way with him. Erotic images of Grim’s big, hard body moving over her, in her, filled her thoughts. No use trying to squelch them. The Pandora’s box of her secret thoughts and desires had been opened.

And none of them involved Wes.

Poor Wes; what was she going to do about him? What was she going to do about any of this?

Bunny rabbits, what a crazy F5 tornado of a day. She should be shell shocked and hyperventilating, doubting her own sanity; a quivering mound of emotional Jell-O ready for massive intravenous doses of Xanax and Thorazine.

Fairies were real. Witches were real. Demigods were real. One of her new best friends was a dude with tats and piercings. A dude with megaton anger-management issues who turned into a comic book character at the drop of a hat.

Her other bestie was a super-intelligent noncorporeal voyeuristic telepath.

She’d had her first heart-to-heart with her father, the Jude Law of the afterlife, and she’d finally gotten to meet her sister-in-law. Her oh-so-dead sister-in-law. Mama always said people get more so as they grow older. Did the same rule of thumb apply to the dearly departed? If so, Meredith would collapse one day in a black hole of cranky.

Sassy’s estranged brother was the directionally challenged Spotted Ghost Hound of Hannah. As if that weren’t enough, she herself wasn’t completely human. Had never been completely human, which explained a lot, now she thought about it. She was part Muggle and part dementor, with a heaping helping of Tinker Bell thrown in, thanks to a high-octane fairy cocktail.

She mustn’t forget the Dalvahni transfusion she’d gotten from Grim. She was a supernatural Heinz 57.

Mama would be horrified. Eleanor Champion didn’t believe in mixing designer apparel, much less species. Had Mama known what she was getting into when she married a Peterson? Had she found out and fled to Fairhope before Sassy was born?

Sassy doubted she’d ever know. Mama wasn’t much of a talker. She was more of the silent sufferer type. She was silent and you suffered.

Gracious that smacked of self-pity. A good night’s sleep should set her to rights. First, she needed something cooler to wear. Trey’s robe was heavy and much too hot.

Sassy crossed the spacious room to Trey’s dresser. Taking a deep breath, she opened the top drawer. It felt invasive and weird, going through Trey’s things, like opening him up and scrambling around his insides.

The drawer contained Trey’s underwear, folded in precise rows. Big bro was a neat freak and wore Hanro silk boxers.

TMI, she thought. She slammed the drawer and moved on to the next.

More Hanro underpinnings: tee shirts sorted by color, black and white. She grabbed a white one off the top. Tissue paper rustled, a happy crackle Sassy associated with shopping and new clothes. Pushing the shirts aside,