Free Honeymoon of the Dead by Tate Hallaway Page A

really want to die in a fiery bus accident either. I was about to tell Sebastian the same when I noticed: “Hey, isn’t that James Something?”
    Sebastian’s eyes flicked toward the front of the bus.
    Nondescript in his brown coat and forest green knit stocking hat, the guy dropping coins one by one into the meter looked a lot like Sebastian’s personal stalker to me. Though he did have the kind of face that, well, didn’t really remind you of anyone in particular, but you’d thought you’d maybe seen somewhere before. He was handsome enough not to be noticeably unattractive, and I could see him making a living playing that extra in the movies who gets a line in the credits as “guy number two on the street.” He never looked up at us, however, and took a seat on the bench at the front that faced inward.
    Sebastian squinted at him. “Are you sure?”
    “No. I mean, how can I be? He’s the definition of forgettable.”
    Sebastian nodded slowly, like I’d said something profound. “Then it’s him for certain.”
    “Have the Illuminati invented a cloaking device or something?”
    The look Sebastian gave me was a combination of amusement and confusion. “What are you on about? You’re starting to sound far too much like William sometimes, you know that?”
    My co-worker William had a tendency to quote Monty Python out of context or make references to the more fringe areas of New Age, like Area 51, without a lot of buildup or explanation. It’s why we loved him, so I didn’t take Sebastian’s comment as a dis. “I just wondered why you were suddenly convinced. I mean, what about being uninteresting makes you so confident that’s James Something?”
    “Because they’re all like that. I swear it’s a job requirement for being a watchdog: ‘Required to look like no one in particular. Blending skills a must.’ ”
    I laughed. “That’d be a great classified.” I continued to play with the idea. “ ‘Experience tracking vampire billionaires preferred.’ ”
    “ ‘Up-to-date passport a plus,’ ” Sebastian continued. “ ‘Applicants should have knowledge of latest conspiracy theories.’ ”
    “Yeah,” I said, growing a bit more serious. “But aren’t they partially right? Rich people do exert a lot of influence on things like foreign policy, don’t they?”
    “I’m sure some do, but you know what? I’ve never been invited to a single secret cabal meeting.” Sebastian put on a tone of mock hurt. “I’ve never gotten a piece of the world domination agenda.”
    “What, you never attended a Skull and Bones meeting at Yale with former presidents?” I teased. “Sheesh, and I thought you were ‘connected.’ ”
    “Sorry, darling. If you wanted a mover and a shaker, I am not him.”
    Running a finger along the line from his shoulder to his bicep, I flashed Sebastian my best bedroom eyes. “You always move me, baby.”
    “Growl,” he purred, and then smiled at me fondly. “You make me wish we were somewhere more private.”
    “Ever wanted to have public sex?”
    It was hard to believe, but Sebastian—my thousand-year-old lover, who had probably seen everything under the sun, twice —blushed.
    Which just aroused me all the more.
    I slowly, provocatively, ran the toe of my boot up his pant leg. Leaning over, I took the soft lobe of his ear in my teeth and gave him a nibble.
    “We can’t—uh, can we?” His smile was huge with hope.
    Well, I wasn’t sure how much I was really willing to do for an audience, but I’d go pretty far for the fun of it. Whispering in the ear I’d just been munching on, I said, “There are things I’d be up for, if you are.” My tongue darted into his ear.
    “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly, huskily.
    It was kind of fun to have Sebastian so antsy. “Oh? It’d make a good video on the Illuminati site, don’t you think?” I slid my hand into his lap. My fingers traced the creases of his pants, but skirting the, shall we say, main