Page 19 of I Hate Myself for Loving You
“Eatupeatupeatup,” Bud encouraged in a squawk.
Princess? Princess? Oh man, if she ever revealed her true self to him, this was some serious ammunition to be used at a later date.
Now, onto the matter at hand. This letter… Where would Lassiter keep a letter and how was she going to find it?
Rising on all fours, Avery decided some investigation was in order. Turning to get an idea of the layout of his trailer, Avery made a beeline down a short hall to find the bedroom with Bud still clinging to her back. This letter, something that obviously held significance, would probably be there, right? It was a small trailer. He likely didn’t have an office—not by the looks of the blueprints and other assorted papers on his table in the kitchen.
The hallway was short, covered in shag carpeting, worn and fraying.
Lassiter’s bedroom was small, merely enough to turn around in and not much more. There was a big bed, rumpled but mostly made and an attached bathroom in that ugly yellow some older trailers were painted. There was a pile of dirty laundry she tried to delicately step over. Swooping her head down, she grazed a stray sock.
“Ahhh,” she heard his deep voice rumble. “I know what you want to do. You wanna play, don’t you?”
Play? As in with the dirty sock? How vile.
Lassiter stooped down and picked up the sock. The muscles in his arm flexed enticingly and Avery had to look away from his yumminess. It blinded her to her mission.
The letter.
Dragging the sock beneath her snout, Lassiter teased her with it, shaking it in the manner used to encourage play.
Oh, no, she was not putting his dirty sock in her mouth. Nuh uh.
“Get it, c’mon, girl, get the sock,” he encouraged in that same stupid high pitch, smiling like a kid.
If she could roll her eyes right now, she would. For crap’s sake. But what choice did she have. If she was going to pretend to be a dog, she’d better get to pretending.
Making a halfhearted attempt at “playing,” Avery nipped the sock, successfully getting it between her teeth and giving it a slight tug.
Lassiter smiled broadly again, clearly pleased she’d taken the bait.
What the hell was happening here? Who was this man?
He tugged back, swishing the other end of the sock around in circles spiritedly.
Bud flapped his wings at being jerked so suddenly when Avery gave a small growl and pulled the other way. His wings flapped, carrying him to the tall, chipped dresser that was crammed into the corner. Digging her paws into the carpet, Avery grabbed hold of the sock and yanked hard, pitching Lassiter forward.
She gave a satisfied grunt. Girl werewolves rule, weird meat murderers drool.
Plopping down beside her to lean his back against the bed, Lassiter put an arm around her back and commented, “You know, I envy you, Princess. If I could be like you, I’d bet life would be a whole lot easier.”
What now?
Be like her?
To her horror, he caught her off guard when he lifted her back leg and eyeballed her crotch. “You are a princess,” he decided, again, obviously pleased with his assessment of her private bits.
She scoffed with a snort. A princess indeed.
Avery yanked her leg back from his hand with a snuffle. How utterly degrading.
“Don’t be offended, pretty. I was just checking,” Lassiter assured her with an affectionate pat on the head.
Turning, Avery gave him her back end and swished her tail in his face. Check this.
Avery let her mouth open wide, pushing the sock to the floor with her tongue, fighting not to gag.
It fell soundlessly to the carpet in a stinky lump then she turned around and sent Lassiter a disinterested glare, telling him playtime was over.
