The Forever Girl
Once Circe disappeared into the crowd, Thalia smiled at Charles.
“That one”—she bit her thumbnail and indicated me with her pinky—“would be valuable.”
A vein pulsed in Charles’ neck, and a soft hum vibrated through his body. Why didn’t he just shift?
“Surely you aren’t attached?” she asked, dropping her hand away from her mouth.
“You’re outside your rights, Thalia.”
“Temper, temper.” She sighed, the sound sickening coming from her. “But, my sweet Charlie, we’ve missed you. And what of Adonis and Blake? Have you forgotten who your □□□□ friends are?”
“These women know nothing.” His voice sounded rougher, more gravelly. “Do not cross me.”
“Cross you? Oh Charlie, I’d never cross you.” She patted his chest and winked. “You’ve already □□□□ crossed.”
A young, scrawny vampire pushed his way through the crowd. He bowed toward Thalia. “I’m sure Charles can handle this…misunderstanding. He’s been around longer than both of us put together.” He arched his eyebrows.
Thalia stepped back, cocked her head to one side, and tapped a finger against her cheek. “Fine. We have their scents.” To Charles, she added, “Pray you handle this well.”