Free Frost Moon by Anthony Francis Page B

woman: a moment of attraction, a moment of vulnerability, a moment of pure tenderness as lips press against lips and eyes close with bliss.
    I turned away. Savannah had found someone, and I was watching my more than adequate replacement. That stung like a son of a bitch.
    I heard the clacking boots again, and shifted to look at Darkrose as she approached. She was tall for a woman, easily six-one counting the boots, which left her over an inch shorter than me not counting my boots. And, yes, I am petty enough to like being taller than Girlfriend 2.0.
    “A pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Frost,” she said. She was having a far better time than I would, coming face to face with a lover’s ex-girlfriend; in fact she seemed to be enjoying herself as she looked at the pair sitting on the throne, then back at me. “Have fun.”
    “So…” Savannah said, shifting uncomfortably on the throne and scowling. “Now that you’ve ruined our Friday evening, could you finish telling me why and then get the hell out?”
    “Well, uh,” I said, kneading my brow, trying not to look at Doug’s crotch. The cage was surprisingly distracting, once you noticed it. “Uh, I’m—”
    “Spill it,” Savannah said.
    “I need to go to a werehouse,” I said. “I’m doing a tattoo for a werewolf, and Jinx needs to consult with another werewolf about it before she can clear the design. But there are vampires running protection for the werewolves, so she sent me to you.”
    “And exactly why is your little problem important enough to disrupt my play night?”
    “My werewolf client,” I said, “seemed to think it was urgent that he get this control charm inked before the next full moon, which is a week from Saturday. Did I mention werewolf? Full moon—werewolf. Any more questions?”
    “No,” Savannah said, shaking her head with a wry smile. “Life sure is complicated.”
    “Tell me about it,” I said.
    “Sooo… “ Savannah said. “This would be the werehouse… near the Perimeter, out towards Six Flags?”
    “Suuure,” I said. “I don’t know, Savannah. I don’t keep up with all the people who come running to the vampires for protection. Jinx seemed to think you would.”
    “As it so happens, I do. But… should I now add you to that list?” she asked. “Are you now running to me for protection?”
    “If that’s what you want to call it,” I said. “If that’s what it takes to get free passage—”
    “Do you want my protection?” she said, firm, almost formal, but still smiling.
    “Yes,” I said. “I want your protection. So, look, what do we have to do? Do you just call them and put me on a list, or do I need some kind of visa or something?”
    “Or something,” Savannah said, smiling even more wickedly now. “Doug,” she said, crooking her hand. He stood, and I turned my head to inspect the sofa, the widescreen TV. I heard ripping of Velcro, his leash rattle to the floor, and then Savannah’s stage whisper:
    “Fetch the box with the… signs of my house… from the dungeon.”
    Doug disappeared through the same side door that Darkrose had first gone through. I looked at Savannah; something about the way she was smiling was making me very uncomfortable, though the crosses were not shimmering, so she meant me no harm. Suddenly I wondered whether that was a myth; but before I could ask, Doug returned.
    He had shed his puppy mitts and was carrying a large plastic box filled with metal bands similar to the ones on Savannah’s thighs. Savannah ferreted around in it a bit, and withdrew a metal collar and a golden padlock. She held it in her hands, staring at me; I swallowed.
    “Doug,” she said. “If you would be so kind, give Dakota the sign of my house.”
    Doug took the collar and lock and padded towards me, and as he turned I got a good eyeful of the cage on his cock. I winced—now I’d gone and named what it was. I’d really been trying not to think of it. In all fairness, it didn’t show as