“No! No, no, no! I won’t take a bath! I hate getting wet. You know that!”
Louie steps away from me, crosses her arms, and sticks her chin up in defiance.
I gently place my hand on her arm and softly squeeze.
“I totally get it. But if you’re stuck in this human body, we need to make sure you know how to act at least a little human. I’m seeing Eve and Thane later this week, and if I have a naked girl in my house acting like a dog and smelling like roadkill in the rain, things are gonna get weird.”
I pause, then add, “Also … Thane knows what I am. He doesn’t know about you, so no Cujo shit if they come over, okay?”
Louie snorts condescendingly, then says, “That fucking himbo doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. I doubt he’s on to you.”
She’s wrong, but I’m too tired to argue, so I turn my attention back to getting Louie into the bathtub.
I shoot her a small smile and try not to gag.
“Come on, Lou. Let me help you clean up. Just a quick rinse, I swear.”
I hesitate, then add with the most innocent voice I can muster, “Didn’t you say I was your mistress once? And that you had to obey me?”
Ugh, I hate pulling that card, but I’m running on fumes, and her wet dog funk is making my sinuses burn.
Louie narrows her eyes at me.
“Yeah, I said it. Not fair, though, dragging that up.”
She lets out a huff that sounds more like a growl. “Fine. Lead the way, mistress. Teach your dumb little human lessons. Christ, I did not sign up for this.”
She grumbles the whole way down the hall, muttering curses so creative I’m tempted to write them down. I fill the tub, adding my eucalyptus and mint bubbles, while Louie sits her bare ass on the floor, looking ready to square up with the concept of cleanliness.
“Okay, Lou, time to hop in!”
I’ve never had to hype someone up to take a damn bath.
Am I supposed to talk to her like a dog or like a person?
There’s no handbook for training your hellhound when she suddenly turns human. If there was, it’d definitely be written by Grady Hendrix and feature detailed, blood-spattered instructions and hand drawn diagrams. I’d pre-order three copies.
Louie dips her toes into the water, then growls. “It’s fucking freezing, Aurora! Are you trying to give me hypothermia?”
“Lou, that’s as hot as the water gets. If it were any hotter, we’d be dealing with third-degree burns.”
After a fair amount of grumbling, Louie finally gets into the tub. A snippy little growl builds in her throat while I shampoo her soft hair and explain how she should wash her body.
“I can’t believe you have to do this every day,” she huffs. “Oi, where’s that old fucker, anyway? I’m guessin’ he hasn’t ditched you since we’re staying in his house.”
“Ah, so that’s a bit of a story …”
While Louie runs a soapy washcloth over her body, I tell her about Renato, his request, and how I almost killed a powerful, well-connected vampire.
Louie’s response is as fiery as I expected.
I love how undomesticated she gets when she thinks I’m in danger.
“That bastard has done nothing but put you in harm’s way since you met him, Aurora! Christ, can’t you see that?”
“Lou, that trouble with Jameson would have found me either way. We both know that. Ezra saved me. And … I need him. He knows more than I ever will about this supernatural shit. I don’t mean to be crude, but he’s the only one I’d ever—fuck. I don’t know. My hormones are staging aLes Mis-sized revolution. One ovary’s aggressively belting ‘Do You Hear the People Sing?’ and the other’s screaming ‘Vive la Chatte.’”
I groan, already regretting everything I’ve ever said out loud.
