Virgil reached into Krys’s pretzel bag. “The craving thing is a trip. I knew a guy who craved Pop-Tarts. He was two hundred years old and spent his entire life craving something that hadn’teven been invented yet. You can imagine his relief when he finally had one.”
“What in the world did he do after a shift?” I asked.
Virgil chomped on the pretzel. “He ate strawberry preserves on stale bread. Just think, he could have invented Pop-Tarts and become a millionaire. Speaking of millionaires, your suitor had a bunch of fancy new clothes delivered for you earlier. Since you were in the shower, I put them away in your closet.” He locked eyes with Krys. “It’s a complete wardrobe.” Virgil gave me an impish grin. “Melody mentioned the cake and blanket he sent over last night. Ifthat’show he courts, where do I sign up? I’m available for consideration, and I love bakery treats.”
Krys rolled up his bag and dusted salt off his goatee. “There’s nothing wrong with being single. You’re in a pack, and we take care of our own.”
“It doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to entertain options,” I informed him.
He gave me a punishing stare with those crystal-blue eyes. “You’re playing with fire. Those fangs only come out to feed, fight, or fuck. So if you see those pointy little daggers, maybe you need to ask yourself what he really wants from you.” Krys made a hasty exit.
Virgil put his arm around my shoulders and led me out of the room. “Ignore him. He has too much pent-up sexual frustration for his own good. You and Atticus are an odd couple, but don’t let anyone change your mind, least of all a guy who obsessively goes around locking windows like the boogeyman is going to crawl in. You do you. Have you ever dated outside your Breed before?”
“Of course.”
“Ah yes. The ultimate birth control. Trust me, I knowallabout that. Women get pregnant outside of heat sometimes. Look at Hope. The world isn’t ready for another little Virgil.” Hestopped in the hallway and swiveled around to face me. “With a Vampire, you can’t get pregnant. Something to think about if you want to expand the family.”
“One is enough.”
“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that…” He waggled his eyebrows, and suddenly we weren’t talking about children anymore. “Atticus Rainisa little dreamy. I can see why you would swoon over his tight little ass.”
I chuckled softly. “He said you would feel a temporary connection with him after drinking his blood.”
“Have you ever sipped from the Vampire fountain?”
“Absolutely not.” I shuddered at the thought, but his question left me curious. “What did it taste like?”
His tongue swiped the corner of his mouth. “Like blood, but with an undercurrent of something sweet and forbidden. And Virgil Nightingalelovesthe forbidden. They should bottle that stuff and make money selling it as a healing potion. I’ve never felt better than after I drank his blood.” He grimaced. “Maybe a therapy couch is in my future.”
I giggled and ran my hand through my hair. “It’s terrible to laugh at, but I just can’t imagine drinking blood for any reason. I would be sick.”
He shrugged. “When you’re dying, you don’t care.”
I glanced around, noticing how quiet it was. “Where’s Archer?”
“Training a new guy in the gym.”
“Another amputee?”
Virgil stretched his arms above his head. “Nope. Archer only wants to work with disabled people, but this guy was throwing cash in his face, and it’s not like he’s busy all day. What are you up to?”
I took the phone out of my back pocket to show him. “Cecilia has me watching the emergency line while she’s at work.”
“I offered, but she wouldn’t let me help.” He headed toward the kitchen.
Cecilia monitored the abuse hotline when she was home, and Hope was her backup. But since two wasn’t enough, I’d volunteered to handle it so they could go to work.
Lucian barreled down the stairs and opened the walk-in coat closet.
“What’s wrong?” My heart pounded in my chest. “Is it an intruder?”
He removed a shotgun mounted inside the closet wall. “Hamish. The cameras show him sprinkling seeds by the gate again.”
“Nowthatman needs therapy,” Virgil called out from the kitchen.
I frowned. “What kind of seeds?”
Lucian marched into the living room, and I followed behind. “Probably poison ivy again. He’s been doing it off and on all summer—throwing bullshit onto our land while smoking his cigarette and waving at the camera.”
