The nest today had been weak but fun. And damn, Harlow had looked so sexy stabbing and shooting…just ahh.
“Not…always.” Harlow’s eyes slowly opened to glare at him.
Foxx blinked and shook away the thoughts. Right, he had asked a question…or several. He wasn’t sure which one this answered. “They aren’t always young? Or our cases aren’t mostly vampires?”
Harlow’s eyes narrowed. “Both.”
“That doesn’t really answer the second question. Like, obviously, all of our cases aren’t vampires. It would be impossible for them to be. I want to knowhowmany of our cases aren’t vampires.”
“Thirty percent human, twenty-five other, forty-five vampire,” Harlow snapped.
“Forty-five percent. Shesh, my kind are a wild bunch. Probably due to us feeding on you all. It’s a temptation to want to take too much. Too many chances to kill someone. I wonder—”
“Enough!” Harlow barked. “Enough, Foxx! Some asshole used my head to put some dents in a wall, and here you are going on and on about nonsense. I do not care what you have to say. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to answer questions. I don’t know how anyone stays around you with your constant need to talk. You never shut up!”
Foxx gasped. “You—”
“Shh. It’s quiet time! Stop talking.”
“But—”
“No!”
“Fine!” Foxx glared, pressing his lips into a firm line.
* * *
After five hours,Harlow’s headache had finally eased… Just in time, too. They had arrived at the hotel. But he feared there was a ticking time bomb about to go off behind him, in the name of Foxx.
Should he have maybe told the vampire to quiet down a bit less harshly? Probably. Did he necessarily feel bad about yelling at him? No, he didn’t. He wasn’t capable of such remorse anyway.
But he could feel regret. Harlow feared he was about to regret a lot.
The door of their hotel room slammed behind him. Foxx shoved him forward a little. Not enough to hurt, but just to get his attention. Judging by how Foxx had handled himself during this last case, if he had wanted to hurt him, Harlow would know.
“Listen up, old man!” Foxx hissed.
Sighing, he slowly set his bags on the floor and turned around to face his angry, pint-sized partner. “I’m listening,” he said, trying not to sound bored. But as Foxx’s eyes narrowed, he was going to assume he failed at that.
“You will not, I repeat, will not talk to me that way again! I am an adult. I am your co-worker. Unless it’s affecting the job, you don’t have a right to yell at me and tell me to shut up, just because you want to. Your head hurts. Well, guess what? There are ways to communicate that without being an asshole about it.”
“I don’t know. Maybe learn to shut up, so I don’t have to be an asshole about it?” Oh, that was the opposite of what he should have said. It was times like this that Harlow regretted not learning how to filter his words more.
“What?!” Foxx shouted. “I’m sorry, did this sound like a conversation you could argue in?! Let me correct you! This is a conversation where you nod your head and keep your mouth shut! Oh, what? Don’t like being told to shut up?! WELL, WHAT DO YOU KNOW?!”
Harlow smirked at the flush rising on the vampire’s freckled cheeks. Foxx was a bit cute when he was angry.
Foxx's eyes widened. “You, You!”
“You, you,” he mocked. “Looks like you are finally at a loss for words.”
Chuckling, he stepped forward, forcing Foxx to back up. Harlow backed him right up against the door. He placed his hands on both sides of Foxx’s head, boxing him in, and leaned down so their faces were inches apart. “And what do you plan to do if I talk, hmm?”
“You! I’ll… I’ll—” Foxx hissed, flashing his fangs at him, and socked him in the gut.
Harlow gasped at the flash of pain and let out a growl. He grabbed both of Foxx's wrists roughly and pinned them to the door, using his strength to lift him upward so he had to stand on his tippy toes, and glared down at the little shit. The move caused the stitches on his chest to pull a bit, but he didn’t care. “This…this is perfect. You being quiet. See, it’s not that hard to shut the fuck up,” he said snidely.
Foxx glared. “You can’t intimidate me, human. Your size means nothing to me.” His gaze flicked to one of his pinned hands. “I could easily break free.” Foxx let out a tense laugh. “You are so used to using your size, your scary ‘I’m a psychopath’ thing to intimidate people, that you've managed to avoid real conversations until now, haven’t you? Whether it be conversations calling you out on your bullshit, or ones just to get to know you. You’ve avoided them all. Well, guess what? This macho, scary bullshit doesn’t work on me. I don’t give a shit that you are big. I don’t give a shit that you are supposedly messed up in the head. I do not care—”
