“No, I’m not shitting you.”
The word ‘shitting’ sounded so odd coming out of Con’s mouth that it was nearly comical.
The only reason I didn’t laugh was because this was a serious conversation, and I could feel myself on the brink of something amazing.
Corbin stood staring at him in stunned silence for so long that I thought I might have to slap him upside of the head.
Luckily he snapped out of whatever had taken his ability for speech.
“It would be better to have me where I am, because if I’m not, someone not so understanding and reasonable might take my place, and that only spells out bad things for the city’s vampire population,” Corbin finally found his tongue.
“I’ll have someone come pick her up,” Constantine said smoothly.
I watched, curious, as Con pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and then placed it to his ear after dialing a number.
“Who did you call?”
Constantine pointed to the glass windows behind me. “Go inside.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“It’s for the best, baby sis,” Corbin put in his two cents. “The reporters” —he nodded his head toward the van— “are about to be here, and unless you want to be on the front page of the newspaper with us, you’ll be going in.”
I gritted my teeth.
He knew I hated having my picture taken. Knew that I wouldn’t want to be in the paper, or any photo for that matter.
So instead of standing my ground, I gave Con one last glare and turned on my heel, walking back inside the blood bank all over again and sitting down in the seat that had all the snacks.
Then commenced to glare holes into Con’s back.
All that anger stewed and would’ve overflown had my ride not arrived.
I wasn’t expecting the man that I’d last seen so dead, then revived, followed by a whole lot of out of control, to get out of the car as if nothing was amiss. But when he did, my breath left me in a gasp.
My brothers did, too.
“Holy shit.”