These days my life is a cross between a preternatural soap opera and an action adventure movie. Sort of As the Casket Turns meets Rambo.
The first hit man came after me at home, which should be against the rules. Then there was a second, and a third. Eventually, I found out that the word on the street was that Anita Blake, preternatural expert and vampire killer extraordinaire, was worth half a million dollars. Dead, not alive. So what's a girl to do but turn to the men in her life for help? Which in my case, means an alpha werewolf and a master vampire. With professional killers on your trail, it's not a bad idea to have as much protection as possible, human or otherwise.
But I'm beginning to wonder if two monsters are better than one ...
"If I didn't know you loved me, this would be easier," he said. "If it wasn't for that damned vampire, you'd marry me."
"That damned vampire introduced us," I said.
"And he's regretting it, don't think he isn't," Richard said.
I looked at him. "How do you know that?"
He shook his head. "All you have to do is see his face when we're together. I may not like Jean-Claude, and I hate the thought of you with him, but we aren't the only two hurting here. It's a threesome, don't think it's not."
I huddled in my seat, suddenly miserable. I'd have almost welcomed a hit man appearing out of the darkness. Killing I understood. Relationships confused me.