I can't help but roll my eyes. Of course he knows exactly what I'm thinking—damn vampire senses. He can probably smell my arousal from across the room, the cocky bastard.
"Don't you dare stop that coffee," I warn, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. "I need caffeine if I'm going to keep up with your insatiable appetite, Mr. 'Let's-See-How-Many-Rounds-We-Can-Go.'"
He turns then, flashing me that devastatingly sexy smirk that never fails to make my heart skip a beat. "Can't blame a guy for trying, Angel," he purrs, his voice low and full of promise. "Besides, you weren't complaining about my appetite a few minutes ago."
I feel my cheeks flush even hotter if that's possible. "Coffee first," I insist, pointedly ignoring how my body screams for an encore. "Then we'll talk about satisfying other... cravings."
Rhyland's answering grin is positively wolfish. "I'll hold you to that, baby," turning back to the coffee maker. "Better drink up quick."
I quickly switch on the kitchen TV, needing a distraction from the Norse god in front of me—figuring I might as well catch up on the latest news while I wait for my life-giving elixir.
Let's see what chaos and mayhem the world has been up to while I've been playing mermaid in the underwater realm.
I find a news station and crank up the volume, the reporter's voice fillingthe room.
"Breaking news: Another werewolf massacre rocks Sammamish today as Wolf Pack leader and Sherriff of Area Twleve, Mason Brooks, claims the victims crossed territory lines, sparking the brutal attack. Stay tuned for more on this developing story at eleven. Back to you, Tom."
I stare at the TV, my jaw hanging open like a broken puppet. Rhyland, the caffeine-bearing godsend, sets a steaming mug of liquid gold before me. "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us, Angel," his hands land on my shoulders like a pair of heat-seeking missiles, kneading the knots out of my muscles like he's on a mission from the massage gods.
No shit. What the ever-loving fuck is Area Twelve?
"I can't believe this," I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief. "We've been so caught up in playing supernatural fix-it crew for the other realms that we've totally neglected our own backyard."
I sip my coffee, letting the bitter liquid scorch my tongue and jolt my brain into action. "Seriously, though, what the hell is going on? I know Emily mentioned that the wolves were claiming territories and shit, but what does this mean?"
"Werewolves have been trying to claim territories for eons, baby," Rhyland sighs, his fingers still working their magic on my tense muscles. "But I'm flying blind here. I need to do some digging and find out what the hell happened to the vampire council. I'll make some calls in the morning to see if I can get the lowdown on these packs and their little turf war."
I nod, taking another sip of my life-giving elixir. Suddenly, my phone buzzes like an angry hornet, demanding my attention. I snatch it up, hoping it's not another crisis to add to our ever-growing list of apocalyptic problems.
But when I see Emily's name on the screen, I can't help but grin like an idiot.
In route. We should be there in about an hour and a half.
Okay, drive safe. See you soon! And don't forget to bring the good snacks. You know, the ones that don't taste like cardboard and sadness.
I hit send, feeling a little lighter, a little more hopeful. Sure, the world might be going to hell in a handbasket, but at least I've got my crew.My family.
A wave of relief washes over me, the knots in my stomach loosening just a bit. Emily's on her way. My ride-or-die, my partner in crime, my platonic soulmate. With her by my side, I know we can take on anything.
Rhyland leans down, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Emily's on her way?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that makes my nipples ache.
"Yeah," I nod, leaning into his touch. "Her and Sable. They should be here in an hour and a half, give or take a few bathroom breaks and snack stops."
Rhyland chuckles, his breath tickling my ear. "Good. We're going to need all hands on deck for this one. And if anyone can help us figure out this werewolf mess, it's Emily. That girl's got intel for this type of shit and a tongue sharp enough to cut through bullshit like butter."
I can't help but laugh, picturing Emily verbally eviscerating a bunch of posturing werewolves. "Damn straight. Those fleabags won't know what hit them. Between your brawn, Emily's witchy powers, and my dazzling wit and charm, we'll have this territory dispute sorted out in no time."
Rhyland snorts, "Dazzling wit and charm, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"
I elbow him in the ribs, my grin widening. "Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it, buddy. I'll have you know my wit and charm are legendary. They're like the secret weapons in my savior arsenal."
"You sound like Lucian—he's rubbing off on you, Angel." Rhyland teases. "Just promise me you'll use your powers for good and not evil."
I bat my eyelashes at him, putting on my best innocent face. "Who, me? I'm practically a saint. A beacon of virtue and righteousness."
Rhyland laughs outright at that, the sound rich and warm. "Sure you are, baby. And I'm the Easter Bunny."
I laugh with Rhyland, the stress and anxiety of everything slowly dissipating like mist in the morning sun. It's like my brain is stuck in some cosmic whiplash, trying to reconcile the insanity of our inter-realm adventures with the mundane reality of our own world.
