Considering how exhausted I was,it took me far too long to fall asleep. I had two tails and was possibly a mythical kitsune, which was over-the-top insane. But I mostly had a hard time sleeping, knowing that Brock was just outside my door. A hundred times I considered inviting him into my bed, and as many times I talked myself out of it. The alpha was already possessive enough; I didn’t want to make things worse by pretending we had some kind of relationship.
At some point in the night I must’ve finally drifted off, because next thing I knew I was waking to banging at the door.
I groaned and threw an arm over my eyes. It was way too early for door banging.
My bedroom door burst open and then Brock was standing there, shirtless, with tousled hair, and dark stubble that made his eyes look even brighter than usual.
He skimmed my exposed leg all the way up to my thigh, then met my sleepy gaze. “It’s your vampire lawyer. Do we still trust him?”
Seeing Brock with his shirt off, I momentarily forgot how to speak. “Croft? Yeah, he’s cool.” I sat up, and ran a hand through my long, dark, tangled hair. The covers fell to my waist, showcasing my tiny tank top and thin cotton shorts.
He eyed me from top to bottom—twice. “Put some clothes on. I’ll make coffee. Decaf for you.” Then he shut the door.
I was wearing clothes! Unlike him. But I knew the alpha meant he didn’t want me half dressed in front of another man. And did he say decaf? What the flying fuck? Did he really expect me to go without caffeine just because I was pregnant?
Lame.
I looked down at my flat belly.Kid, you’d better not give me shit when you’re a teenager. I’m giving up real coffee for you. You’re going to owe me big-time.
After taking five minutes to brush my teeth, and pull on some ripped jeans and a t-shirt that showed most of my belly—I was going to flaunt it before it ballooned into something alien—I emerged into the living room.
Croft sat at the kitchen table silently watching Brock, who silently watched him right back. In front of the vampire was a large package. I shifted my gaze to the kitchen, where Cass was nearly naked, making breakfast. My eyes flicked back to the package with curiosity. It was long and skinny, and on top of it was a letter. The floral envelope made a lump form in my throat.
Gran.
Croft eyed me with confusion. “So, he slept over?”
Yes, we hated the alpha last week, and now we didn’t.
“On the couch—I’m pregnant with his baby,” I blurted out, too tempted by the possibility of shocking the immovable vamp.
His mouth popped open, but before he could respond I pointed to the package. “That’s Gran’s stationery.”
Croft collected himself. “Ah, yes. It appears Belinda had a magical safety deposit box in New York. In the event of her death, they were instructed to mail it to me. The courier, a burly warlock, instructed me to give it to you.”
My heart hammered in my chest. Magical safety deposit box in New York? That didn’t sound like Gran.
“Okay…” I swallowed.
“Well, thanks for dropping by,” the alpha prodded him.
“Brock!”
But Croft stood. “No, I really must be going. Just after I have a word with your imp for impersonating me last night.”
Oh shit.I’d totally forgotten about the drama at the seethe.
Cass wandered out of the kitchen, naked but for my Gran’s faded pink-polka-dot apron. “You rang?”
I wanted to face-palm, as I struggled not to think of how he was defiling my Gran’s beloved apron. I had fond memories of her baking heavenly chocolate chip cookies while simmering potions on the stovetop at the same time.
Using his vampire speed, Croft zipped across the room. Brock stood so quickly, he knocked over his chair before catching it.
Inches from Cass, the lawyer leaned down, and pinned the imp with his mesmerizing vamp eyes. “You will never impersonate me again. Are we understood?” His voice could cut glass. It was clear Cass had crossed a line last night, that shouldn’t have been crossed. Croft was on our side, but we needed to keep him there.
“Understood.” Cass put his hands up defensively. “We’re cool, man. I won’t do it again.”
Croft spun to meet my gaze. “I wasn’t involved in last night’s fiasco. I do not align with the siren, or the seethe lord.”
