Sucker Punch (First Fangs Club #3) - Kristen Painter Page 0,24

sake? Who cared? She’d take it. His arm had more muscles than her entire body. “I’m an FTS.”

“Sorry, I’m pretty new to all this. I have no idea what that means.”

“Right, I heard that about you. You’ve been a vampire what, like two weeks?”

“Something like that. So what’s an FTS?”

“Fairy-tale shifter. It’s slang for those of us who shift into things that aren’t considered real by humans. Dragons, griffons, basilisks, mermaids, yetis—”

“Wouldn’t vampires fall into that category?”

Still smiling, he shook his head. “You’d be surprised how many humans believe vampires are real. No, FTS are generally considered more mythological than just made up. It’s a fine line, I suppose.”

“So which one are you?” Somehow, she was another foot closer.

“Gargoyle.”

“Really? Wow.” Oh boy. Now she wanted to touch him. “I never would have guessed that was a thing. Not that you’re a thing.” A hot thing, maybe. Okay, what was going on with her? “You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

A soft chirping that wasn’t a bird or a tree frog caught her attention. Her phone. Someone had terrible timing. She pointed toward the chaise where her stuff was. “That’s my cell, and I need to get that. Plus, you probably want to swim laps. Nice meeting you.”

“You, too, Governor Barrone.”

She dove under and swam for the other side but still reached her phone too late to get the call. She stood there, dripping, trying not to get water on the phone as she checked to see whose call she’d missed. Charlie.

That couldn’t be good. She hit the call-back button and put the phone to her ear, glancing at Kace to see how his laps were going.

“Governor?”

“Yep. Sorry, I couldn’t get to the phone in time.”

“I hate to cut your swim short, but you should probably come back to the penthouse.”

Donna tensed, anticipating the reason. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing too terrible. But if you could return at your earliest convenience, that would be great.”

She grabbed her towel and dried herself off as best she could while still on the phone. “What aren’t you telling me? And why aren’t you telling me?”

“Because it might be nothing.”

“Charlie.”

“Do you mind telling me whose name was on the card that came with the flowers?”

“The card was blank. In fact, I was going to ask you to call the shop that sent them and see if they could give us that info.”

“Did you smell the flowers?”

“Yes. They smell amazing. I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

Donna could hear her talking to someone else. “Yes, she smelled the flowers.” That person answered Charlie, but with the music and the water, not even her vampire hearing could make out the words.

Then Charlie’s long, unsettled exhale filled the phone, followed by much more urgent words. “You need to come back now.”

Donna stuck her feet into her flip-flops, then pulled on one arm of her robe. “I’m coming, but what is going on?”

“Jerabeth came up to get a sample of Rixaline’s blood for comparison and noticed the flowers on the counter. She leaned in to smell them, and long story short, she thinks they may have been used to drug you in some capacity.”

Donna switched the phone to her other ear so she could get the rest of herself into the robe. “That’s crazy. I feel fine. I feel great, actually. Super great.”

“It may not have hit you yet. Wait, did you just say ‘super great’?”

“Yeah, so?” Donna picked up her towel to put it in the used-towel bin, facing the pool as she went. Kace was at the wall again, about to make a turn. He smiled at her.

“That doesn’t sound like you, that’s all.”

Donna smiled back, giving him a wink. Maybe she should invite him to…whoa. A cold chill swept through her. A wink? That wasn’t her style. Neither was all this flirting or thinking about her childhood, and what was that lingering feeling of fluffy headedness? “You know what? I think it might have hit me after all. Something has. Whatever. I’m on my way.”

Chapter Nine

Donna couldn’t get back to the penthouse fast enough. She practically ran into the kitchen.

Charlie was on the phone. “Yes, ma’am, thank you. I very much appreciate your help. Good night.”

She hung up and shook her head. “That was Miriam Pasternak, owner of Beautiful Buds, where the flowers came from. Fortunately, the shop doesn’t close until eight, so I was able to get her. She said the order came in over the internet, and it specified that a blank card