Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Regardless, this was the turn of events he’d been hoping for.
Damien righted his leather pants, grabbed his backpack, and crossed the small wooden bridge stretching over the river. One of the women greeted him on the other side.
“Mind your Ps, Mr. Tailor. And your Qs. Or you’ll have my S up your A.”
Damien blinked. “Sorry?”
She pounded the butt of her spear onto the ground.
“Oh,” he said, “that S and my A. If you’ll simply point me in the direction of the helicopter, I’ll be out of your very lovely long dreadlocks for good.”
She pointed her spear downriver. “Ten minutes that way.”
Damien turned toward the river.
“Hey, tailor?” the woman called out.
He stopped, looking over his shoulder.
“You make sarongs and baby clothes? We have too much hunting to do to make them ourselves. These men eat a lot.”
Suede panties and jungle infant wear? Sure, why the hell not? At this point, his suit shop had lost all dignity the moment two tiny demons moved in. “I am sure we can arrange something to suit your needs.”
Damien headed for the helicopter, grateful that his time in this sticky, wet jungle was over. But somehow he suspected this had been the easiest part.
MF couldn’t believe her luck! That big, gorgeous hunk of a vampire Maxton was finally leaving the jungle.
She’d put on her favorite black lace top and skirt just for the occasion. Though she always felt her long auburn hair and sultry lips were her best features, most of her prior lovers had been into her legs. They were pretty nice, even if on the shorter side. She was a petite gal at five feet three.
I hope Maxton likes big personalities in tiny packages. She scooted closer to him on the plane about to take off, the armrest digging into her hip. “So, what do you want to see first when we get to LA?”
Maxton stared ahead like a mindless zombie, still wearing his extremely worn-out, ancient suit. The thing looked like a relic from a Jane Austen zombie film. Smelled a little musty, too.
“You still reeling over that helicopter ride?” she asked. “Trust me, you’re not the only one. Brutus flies that thing like a crackhead.”
Maxton stared, clearly in shock.
“You’re probably wondering what a crackhead is. I can explain later. But there’s nothing to be afraid of on this plane. It’s like a giant metal bird that—”
“Silence.” Maxton flashed a palm. “I know what an airplane is. I have watched them fly overhead for nearly a century.”
“Sorry. I was just trying to—”
“I know what you are trying to do, MF.” He said her name like it was a curse. “But your cordiality will not convince me to change you. I will not change anyone.”
How did he know that was what she wanted?
MF’s insides twisted. “Yes, I want to be a vampire again, but that’s not the only reason I’m trying to be helpful.” Or get closer to you.
“Be as helpful as you like. It will not alter my feelings.”
“Because you think being a vampire is a curse?” she asked.
“I will not change you because you are…annoying, and you talk too much. Do you honestly believe I wish to be bonded to a chatty peasant of poor education and upbringing?”
MF’s jaw dropped. She’d heard a lot of mean things in her twenty-five years of life, but this was in a category all its own.
She got up, went to the back of the plane, and sat next to Damien.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“He’s a fucking dick,” she whispered.
“I heard that, peasant!” Maxton bellowed from the front of the plane. “Vampire hearing!”
She snarled. “I wouldn’t let that monster turn me if he were the last vampire on earth.”
Damien cocked a brow at her.
“You know what I mean,” she said with a sigh.
“Please do not start causing problems, MF. I need the vampire’s help, and he’s less likely to do so if he’s annoyed.”
“I was just trying to be polite. He doesn’t look like he’s feeling so great.”
Damien grumbled, “I need to get intoxicated.”
She blinked at him. Damien drank, but he never had more than one or two. “Am I really that annoying?”
“Yes, but my groin hurts. I cannot figure out why.”
“Okay…Good to know.”
“I’m going to go up front and check on our guest. Would you mind bringing us a bottle of whatever spirits Brutus has stowed away?” he asked.
“Sure. I’ll be right up.” She watched Damien go to the front of the plane and take a seat next to Maxton.
A woman in strange camo overalls passed through the aisle. Maybe she worked here. “Oh, miss? Are you part of the crew?”
The woman glared at her. “What do you want?”
Hostile much? “Just wondering where I might find some alcohol.”
“In the back. Help yourself. And don’t fall out of the plane on your way there.” The woman disappeared into the very front of the plane, around the corner where they had a bunch of equipment in this military-slash-people transporter. I wonder if all Uchben women are so grumpy.