Wild Side (Dark Side Series: Book 2)

Twenty-Nine

Reflected in blood, Zakar's smile oozed through the cracks in my porch floor. "Enchanté," he purred, drawing Natasha's hand into his, massaging her palm crimson. "Have you had breakfast yet, my dear? We were just sitting down."

"No, we weren't." I butted between them, stepped in the slick red and pushed him back inside. He walked back willingly, hands lifted, wiggling his fingers at Natasha.

"Don't be rude, Marcy, darling."

Natasha snapped her fingers excitedly. "Marcy! Yes, that's it! I knew your name was something else!  Just couldn't remember. He's a bit coarse, your sheriff. Not saying I don't like that in a man, but he snatched the lipstick right out of my hand and told me to 'pay attention, Tasha. This is important.' Barked all night at me about you. I can still hear his voice ringing in my ears, I swear." She took a step forward.

I blocked the entrance. The perky brunette set her clean hand on her hip, bangs falling across her carmine eyes. "Food's getting cold," she said.

"There is no food," I snapped, and I might've been guarded because of how easily she seemed to get along with my (possibly im)mortal enemy. "It's time to go. We're going. It's a long drive."

"And you don't want to undertake it on an empty stomach," Zakar said, steering her inside with a soft touch on the small of her back. "Come inside, Natasha. We wouldn't want to waste a perfectly good raccoon."

I did not want to go back inside. It was a wonder he'd left in peace with Caelan the night before. Then again, he'd done everything he could to encourage Caelan's absence, if he didn't directly have a hand in restoring him as Connecticut's lupine sheriff. As if he could read my mind, Zakar returned to the door, wiping the knife on a dishtowel.

"Natasha is your guest, Marcy. You prefer cereal; she wants the milk. There's plenty of both to go 'round." The tip of the blade flicked across the back of my hand. I yelped, pulled my hand away from him. He laughed and closed the door behind me. "There's plenty of me, to go around."

I thought in that moment that if I tried to smack the smile off his mouth, it'd only become permanent. Few things were more frightening than a happy demon.

"What I meant to say," I said, gritting my teeth, "was we should hit the road soon. Wait too long and traffic on 84 going through Waterbury will be a nightmare."

"It's a bit early for my breakfast," Natasha agreed, rounding the corner with a haunch held in hot pink acrylic nails. She licked it like a melting ice cream cone. "But I could use a little snack to tide me over."

Zakar's mouth had dropped open in delight. He closed it with a tap to his chin with the blade handle. "You aren't a gift for Marcy, are you? You're an offering to me."

Natasha's thin shoulders rose and fell. "Live hard, die young," she said, nodding at me. "No white knights for us, eh?"

"I don't like this," I said, and brushed past them both to find some rags to clean up the blood outside, so the home I was raised in could look a little less like a murder house. Neither one helped me, just stood in the hall watching as I worked.

"That's because you lack imagination," Zakar finally said. "Your pet's right, you know. You're a bit behind the eight ball as far as experience goes. Oh, now, don't be embarrassed, starlight. I'll bring you up to speed soon enough. Now, Natasha, Tasha, can I call you that? Great. There are some ground rules to this working relationship."

I craned my head back toward them. "He's going to use you, and then you die."

Zakar clapped his hand together. "Yes, exactly. Glad we are all on the same page."