Page 574 of Love Bites

“Good. You’ll be working with the local Pack alpha. He’s also the sheriff there. Name’s Hank Wilson. You know him?”

“Yep.”Biblically. I knew the son of a bitch biblically.

* * *

“You’re gonna bang him.”

“I am not gonna bang him.”

“You are so gonna bang him.”

“Dwayne, if I hear you say that I’m gonna bang him one more time, I will not let you borrow my black Mary Jane pumps. Ever again.”

Dwayne made the international “zip the lip and throw away the key” sign while silently mouthing that I was going to bang Hank.

“I think you should bang him if he’s as hot as you said.” Dwayne made himself comfortable on my couch and turned on the TV.

“When did I ever say he was hot?” I demanded as I took the remote out of his hands. I was not watching any moreDance Moms. “I never said he was hot.”

“Paaaaleese,” Dwayne flicked his pale hand over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” he asked, confused.

“That shoulder thing you just did.”

“Oh, I was flicking my hair over my shoulder in agirlfriendmove.”

“Okay, don’t do that. It doesn’t work. You’re as bald as a cue ball.”

“But it’s the new move,” he whined.

Oh my god, Vampyres were such high maintenance. “According to who?” I yanked my suitcase out from under my bed and started throwing stuff in.

“Kim Kardashian.”

I refused to dignify that with so much as a look.

“Fine,” he huffed. “But if you say one word about my skinny jeans I am so out of here.”

I considered it, but I knew he was serious. As crazy as he drove me, I adored him. He was my only real friend in Chicago and I had no intention of losing him.

“I know he’s hot,” Dwayne said. “Look at you—you’re so gorge it’s redonkulous. You’re all legs and boobs and hair and lips—you’re far too beautiful to be hung up on a goober.”

“Are you calling me shallow?” I snapped as I ransacked my tiny apartment for clean clothes. Damn it, tomorrow was laundry day. I was going to have to pack dirty clothes.

“So he’s ugly and puny and wears bikini panties?”

“No! He’s hotter than Satan’s underpants and he wears boxer briefs,” I shouted. “You happy?”

“He’s actually a nice guy.”

“You’ve met Hank?” I was so confused I was this close to making fun of his skinny jeans just so he would leave.

“Satan. He’s not as bad as everyone thinks.”

How was it that everyone I came in contact with today stole my ability to speak? Thankfully, I was interrupted by a knock at my door.

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