Page 9 of Monster Mistake

“I remember…tequila. And the Monster Match. There was a werewolf named…Dusty or something.”

Khill’s frown got even frownier. “David.”

“Yeah. Then you were there, and we were driving to…”

Images pinged around in her poor, battered brain. Bright lights. Slot machines. Show girls.

“Are we in…Vegas?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking relieved. “Yeah. You remember.”

“Kind of.” She swallowed, even though her mouth was drier than the Serengeti. “We played slots.”

He nodded. “And drank more tequila.”

“There was…karaoke, wasn’t there?”

This time, he chuckled. “Yep. Pretty sure they removedI Will Survivefrom the playlist as soon as you got off the stage.”

Justine cringed. Why, oh why, did she have to rememberthat? “We drank there too, didn’t we?”

“Definitely.”

She was damn lucky she hadn’t blacked out. And that she spent the night drinking and gambling with someone honorable who wouldn’t try to…

Giving herself a quick, panicky pat down, she was relieved to realize her dress, underwear, and shapewear were still intact. She had not been naked at any point during the evening. No way could she have gotten all that shit back on while she was drunk. Hell, she’d barely been able to peel everything down far enough to pee.

Khill raised a brow at the obvious relief on her face. “If we’d had sex,” he said, his already deep voice going deeper on the word sex, “you’d remember.”

Of that, she had no doubt. She was more afraid that she’d propositioned him in a drunken stupor and thrown her panties at him or something. She knew he was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of a woman who couldn’t consent.

And there was, of course, the fact that she’dalreadythrown herself at him and he’d turned her down.

But all in all, it would appear that even though she felt like there was more alcohol in her blood than plasma and there was a raging mosh pit in her skull, she had escaped her adventures in Vegas relatively unscathed.

Well, except for her hair. That looked like a pair of squirrels had tried to nest on her head. After fucking for a few hours. In a tornado.

Lifting a hand to try to finger comb her wild curls into submission, something caught her eye. Something glittery. Something expensive looking. Something that weighed heavily on her finger.

Her left ring finger.

Justine’s grandfather had been a jeweler. She used to spend a few days a week with him after school when she was a middle schooler, and because he wasn’t one to let anyone freeload, she’d learneda lotto help him out in his shop. She knew all about cut, clarity, color, and carat sizes. So, she could say with absolute certainty that the ring she was wearing cost more than her car.

First of all, it was an emerald-cut, 1.25 carat pavé diamond. The band was platinum and covered with micro-pavé diamonds. It was nothing short of stunning.

Honestly, the only thing shedidn’tknow about this ring was why it was onherfinger.

Her saucer-wide eyes lifted from the ring back up to catch Khill’s gaze—his somewhat guilty looking gaze—in the mirror.

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah. I know you were worried about how much the ring cost. But like I said, there’s no reason to. The guy who handles my money is a genius, so I have plenty of it. Or, if you want something less flashy, we can do that, too.”

She swallowed hard. Tried to, at least. It was difficult when her throat was so dry. “Um…I’m more concerned withwhyI have the ring at the moment.”

He frowned. “Don’t you remember anything about…the ceremony?”

Ceremony. The room spun. Sweat broke out on her brow. She remembered…laughing. Lots of laughter. There was also a little white chapel and…a dude dressed up in a 1970s Elvis costume. Khill grinning down at her as he promised to love and cherish her until…

Holy shit kabobs.

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