Free Broken Heart 03 Because Your Vampire Said So by Michele Bardsley

manners.”

Chapter 8
    I beat a hasty retreat.
    Triumph flashed in Magnolia’s gaze.
    “Hah! That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” I said angrily. “You’re the rudest bitch I’ve ever met.” I marched to the front door and pushed it open. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.”
    I wondered if I’d signed my death warrant. In that moment, I knew she was deciding whether to kill me.
    Drake entered the shop and stood close to me. His brows arched as he examined Magnolia’s fiery knives. “Is there a problem, Lia?”
    “No. I was merely showing Patsy my newest weapons.” She blew out the flames and sheathed them. She strode to the doorway and paused on the threshold.
    “Never lay your hands on me again,” she warned softly.
    “Don’t come within throttling distance and I won’t.”
    Her eyes flashed with hatred. Then she stomped out, taking the stench and the entity with her. Whew. I was glad she was gone. I locked up again and leaned against the door. Man, I was feeling dizzy.
    Drake grinned. “You sure know how to make friends.”
    “It’s a talent.”
    He studied me, his gaze worried. “Patricia—”
    “I know, I know,” I said. “I should show more respect to the Ancients. But I don’t care who you are. If you act like an asshole, then I’m treating you like one.”
    “I would never tell you how to behave,” said Drake, chuckling. He sobered, eyeing me with a frown. “Let’s go see what’s in the bathroom, shall we?”
    “Drake!”
    He strode across the room and flung the door open.
    The bathroom was empty.
    I turned away to hide my surprise and relief. I didn’t want Drake reading my expression.
    “It’s not backed up,” he said. “Why did you lie to Lia?”
    I didn’t bother to ask how he’d know that. Listening at the door with his big wolfie ears.
    “I wanted her to leave. I don’t like her.” I hurried to the hair care display and started rearranging it.
    “Was he in there?”
    Drake’s voice was so close, it startled me. I dropped the Paul Mitchell Awapuhi shampoo. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Drake less than a foot away. I met my friend’s suspicious gaze.
    “Who?” I asked.
    “Your new boyfriend.”
    “None of your beeswax.”
    “C’mon, Patsy. Who is he?”
    “A troll named Wolf Eater.” I pointed to the door. “Go away.”
    “Torturing you is more fun.”
    I put the shampoo down. “I’m going to my trailer to take a shower and change my clothes. You are going outside.”
    “All right, all right!” He put his hands up, palms out in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll walk you to the trailer and stand guard on your porch.”
    His cell phone buzzed. He unclipped it and answered. He listened for a moment, then said, “Okay. Be right there.”
    “Wilson?”
    “Promise me that you’ll stay in the trailer until I return.”
    “Fine,” I said. I locked up the shop and hurried across the weed-choked field. I stood on the second step, looking down at Drake. He turned away and I reached out and snagged his shoulder. “Stay safe,” I said.
    “If I do, will you give me a full-body shampoo? “
    I laughed. “On the house.”
    He grinned; then he scurried away, off to whatever emergency required his attention.
    When I entered the trailer, I noticed two things. One, my couch had been covered by a big, red blanket, probably because of the blood-stains. And two, the white wolf was sitting on it, his big tongue lolling out of his mouth.
    “Hey!” I said crossly. “No dogs on the furniture! “
    He woofed and jumped off, then padded around the coffee table to sit by my feet. “God, you’re cute.”
    I pushed off from the door and stumbled. The room started to spin. Darkness crimped the edges of my vision. I heard the wolf bark, and then I was falling, falling into oblivion.
    “You sucked her dry,” said an irritated female voice. I floated on the edge of consciousness, hearing the conversation, but was too tired to open my eyes.