CHAPTER ONE
How many screws do you need to lose before calling it quits?
There was nothing more manly than a six-foot-plus guy who deemed himself above the carefully crafted, illustrated instructions included in every single flat-pack box of furniture. These instructions transcended the language barrier with ease, yet failed to get through to the testosterone-laden individuals who believed they knew better.
Hudson frowned as he selected a shiny silver screw from the unsorted pile which, according to the discarded paper in my hand, contained eight different sizes of bolts, each carefully included in the correct number for optimal construction. At this rate, I would be surprised if the dresser held the weight of a fly, never mind the truckload of clothing The Principal deemed “essential.” The man had twenty-six pairs of underwear. Why? What was happening where his washing wasn’t getting done for over three weeks? He had more than me, and this wasn’t even all of it. Perhaps it was because he was the leader of the North American shapeshifters, and clean boxers were required for every time someone asked him for something? And they didask. This past week, he’d been called upon to officiate a mating ceremony; oversee a new building site for shifter homes; and give a lecture to two groups of teenagers—one wolf, one cat—on why they should respect each other’s boundaries. He also had to intervene in an arranged marriage, which he’d outlawed long ago.
My gaze wandered to the setting sun casting a warm glow through my window. I loved Louisiana in the winter. The air had cooled to a comfortable temperature, and the differentiation between night and day could be felt more acutely. The crazy Christmas period was over and the air was potent with new beginnings. Not that our Christmas had been anything other than subdued while I healed physically and mentally from the torture inflicted on me by my grandmother’s head elemental.
My New Year’s resolution was to avoid homicidal and tyrannical family members for as long as possible. Hudson’s was to stuff as much of himself into me—my home, not my body—as he could manage. On the surface, everything seemed to be returning to normal, but Hudson was holding back. Sure, we’d been intimate, but he was still treating me like I was made of glass.
Intimacy, though, could not occur when there were wayward screws and a half-built dresser on the floor. He’d been building this since three p.m. The instructions clutched in my hand mocked us—as they should. There was a little clock in the corner of the front page indicating we should have placed his carefully folded underwear inside the completed dresser three hours ago. That’s right, folded underwear. I wasn’t sure if this was a deal breaker yet, as I considered it a success if my underwear even landed in the right drawer, let alone was folded and organized.
We could attribute the inordinate time to a situation involving three vampires who had booked one of the family rooms in my B&B, Summer Grove House. Little did I know theywere involved romantically with each other. I could have lived the rest of my life being in the dark about the intricacies of a throuple relationship—managing one person in my space was hard enough. The argument had been about the weight of the comforter. Rebecca, my English vampire princess-in-hiding and longest staying guest, had upgraded our residents’ experience by offering them three choices of thickness and a range of pillow styles.
Unfortunately, one male ran a little on the colder side while the other ran hot, but still required a covering to sleep. The problem wasn’t their differing preferences; we simply provided them with two comforters. The issue was the woman between them and which comforter she was going to sleep under. Neither was the answer. She ended up paying for a separate room and told them not to bother her until they worked their shit out. I couldn’t agree more, but both male vampires looked dumbstruck as she sauntered off to a room of her own.
Hudson cursed, bringing me back to the present.
“You ready to let me help?” I checked.
“I don’t need help.”
Silly me. Perhaps if I played to his superiority of DIY prowess? “I could be your assistant.”
“That’s still helping.”
Hudson picked up the third electric screwdriver, already having burned through the previous two that were now charging. They were in a shift change situation while he pretended to know what he was doing. You’d think he would get a clue that he needed to read the instructions after he had to undo all the pieces and start again.
I slid my ass off the kitchen counter, my shit-kicking boots thudding on the wooden floor of my apartment. I’d taken the top floor of the four-story house as my personal rooms. The basement held my office and examination room for my role asThe Undertaker, and the other two floors contained the guest rooms and communal living areas. Sebastian, my vampire best friend, had recently taken up permanent residence here also, much to Hudson’s chagrin. Not that he feared a romantic connection between us, as I wasn’t his type, but we had shared blood. Technically, I should now be in Sebastian’s thrall, a horrific psychological state where the vampire controlled the actions of whoever they had shared with, broken only by death. If done between two vampires—normally mates—the thrall canceled itself out. The community frowned upon creating a bond outside of a mated couple or group.
However, I wasn’t really normal by anyone’s standards. As a Nephilim, I had an angelic being residing inside of me who swatted the thrall bond away like an annoying fly. That didn’t stop Hudson from losing his shit and threatening to remove Sebastian’s heart, and even though it was clear no bond had formed, there was still animosity.
Indigo perked up at the mention of organs. You could count on the daughter of the angel of death to become excited about mangled body parts. I rolled my eyes.
“I’m starved,”she muttered in my mind.“I need souls, not meat.”
Yes, because that’s so much better.
“It is. Souls don’t give me indigestion.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Hudson paused and glanced over his shoulder. Since accepting him as my mate, Hudson had developed the ability to hear the creature living inside me. He housed his own beast, a prehistoric tiger named Keverin that hated water but enjoyed lounging on my sofa while watching reruns of Animal Planet and theJurassic Parkfranchise.
“You need to feed her before she takes matters into her own hands,” he said.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.“I’m aware. But we can’t just gobble up any old soul.”
“Why not?”she asked.
Hudson snorted. “We can take a trip to New Orleans tonight. It’s full of people who deserve that fate.”
Indigo huffed.“They leave an unpleasant aftertaste.”
Send help. I am housing a picky angel with discerning tastes. “Take it or leave it,” I told her. I could feel her sulking in my mind as she went quiet. That’s what I thought.
Hudson stood and took a step back from the half-built dresser, his gaze studying the slight slope of the drawer units.
Harry burst through the wall. He was my resident ghost, once a vampire, who failed to take the hint and step into the light. He claimed his work here on Earth wasn’t done.
