of them) woman who is such a knockout in bed that she’s got a harem of men willing to share her rather than leave her happens to be my husband’s ex-lover and she’s his current and long-time employer.
Good Lord. And to think my biggest worry all of seven seconds ago was what I was going to do if I got an itch behind my belt.
But Gracie’s right: don’t freak out. What’s there for me to feel concerned, threatened, and inferior about?
Bah, let’s get real: what’s in this crisis cookie dough that I shouldn’t feel threatened/concerned/inferior about?
This is like every worst scenario ever. And such a romance cliché. Find the alien of your dreams, wear down his misgivings about your whole species, finally make it to a happy ending—only to find that his abrasive grouch self could totally still be stuck on his ex who’s had his marionette strings in her hands this whole time and I had no idea—DAMN IT!
Dimly, I’m aware that Dohrein is snagging Gracie with his wings, and rescuing her from Bash’s warpath. Only, I don’t even really see that he’s on the warpath. I mean, sure, I can see that he’s prowling up to me like the sexy beast he is, but I’m suddenly so miserable, I can barely appreciate the view.
His rough hand wraps around my face with the tenderest concern. His voice could slice through rhino hide when he growls, “What did that pup-heavy hellbeast say to you?”
“That’s my mate you’re disparaging,” Dohrein warns.
“Did you just call her pup-heavy?” I ask, horrified in a distracted way.
“That mouthy underworld she-creature is going to drop a litter any day,” Bash explains, his pure and penetrating greens searching mine with an almost frantic worry. “What other way would you have me refer to her state and what has she done to upset you?”
I reach up and wrap my hand around his wrist. I don’t force him away from my face, I just hold onto him. “It wasn’t Gracie.”
Bash’s eyes flash and he casts a paint-peeling glower on everybody in our vicinity. “Who then?” Flames puff out of his lips. “Where is that Jonohkada?”
Gracie's growl is vicious. Dohrein has to reel her back further. “Hey!” she snarls at Bash. “You leave him alone! He didn’t do anything!”
Bash’s tail whips up between her and me, like his tail is a forcefield that will stop her influence. Except that she isn’t trying to exert her influence; she’s trying to exonerate her innocent friend. My mate is the crazy judge and jury and I’m afraid he’d be too happy to be an executioner too. “Jonoh didn’t bother me,” I groan. “By the pope, leave the poor guy alone.”
My defense of Jonohkada does not put Bash in a happier or less-likely-to-maim-someone mood. His gaze leaves mine to peer accusingly around, like he’ll find that very nice hob and he’ll use him to vent some frustration.
“Gracie, hide Jonoh,” I warn and reach up to grab Bash by the ear. “Look at me. Focus on me right now. You want to know why I’m freaking out?”
“Enlighten me,” he answers, all his sharp teeth gleaming dangerously.
“Okay, everybody, let’s give them privacy,” I hear Angie call.
“Show’s over,” Mandi adds. Then she hisses in a whisper that, if I can hear it, I know Bash can too, “Jonoh, follow Gracie!”
“I’m here for my quarry shift,” he calls to her, adorably nonplussed. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch his wings fall slowly to the ground, like deflating balloons in the shape of colorful bat wings. “If I leave, I’ll be late.”
“Bash is going to kill you if you don’t get out of here,” she whisper-shouts to him.
“Oh, I see,” Jonoh says agreeably. “In this case, I do prefer the tardy option.”
“Right? Get gone, boy,” she orders him.
Bash’s tail wraps around my elbow. He doesn’t tug my arm down so that he can charge after a certain clueless hob, but I wonder if he’s thinking about it.
“Information has upset me,” I tell him.
His eyes turn a little less murderous and more focused on me—and they become more confused than anything. “What information could upset you?”
I’m still holding his ear. I let it go, brushing my fingers over the back of it lightly. It must tickle, because he flicks it, bumping my hand twice but not hard. Just reflexively. “Bash, does your ex own your quarry? Does she still visit you?” I feel my eyes grow wide as horrific scenarios occur, born as diabolical eggs that instantaneously