Page 3

CHAPTER 3

W hoever said men were poor communicators had never met Jake.

Sure, he hadn’t told her with words that he was seeing someone else. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t communicating clearly right at this moment.

Standing in his bedroom doorway with a bag of takeout from his favorite restaurant as he plowed his tiny little penis into a busty blonde from behind was the clearest communication she’d ever had from him.

If she stayed quiet, she could slowly back out of the room and preserve some of her dignity. She could break up with him over text and be spared a very awkward confrontation. That would definitely be best.

Too bad quiet wasn’t really her style.

“I see you’re feeling better,” she said loudly enough to be heard over Jake’s panting grunts and the blonde’s squeals (fake squeals, most likely) of delight.

When his stunned face turned toward her, she heaved the bag of takeout at his head. And she’d pitched for her high school softball team, so the bag hit its mark with a satisfying thunk . It was just a happy accident that the plastic container inside the bag popped open on impact, splattering chicken noodle soup down his naked chest.

The blonde, still pinned under Jake (and a pint of chicken noodle soup) turned her head to look at Justine, mouth open in quiet horror.

Justine didn’t pay any attention to her. Her beef wasn’t with the blonde. The blonde hadn’t agreed to not see other women while they were dating. That had been Jake.

She shook her head at him. “Last week you were talking about wanting to move in together.”

Thank God she’d shut that nonsense down. Imagine how she’d feel if she’d found him fucking someone else on her bed?

He didn’t even have the decency to pull his dick out of the blonde before saying, “Justine, baby, you know I love you. This is just sex.”

The blonde made a disgruntled noise that Justine took to mean he’d been feeding her similar bullshit. “It takes a lot of nerve to say you love me when you’re balls deep in another woman.”

Albeit not very deep. Did she mention he had a tiny penis? Because he did.

He did pull out then. She was glad to see he was wearing a condom. He was a lying, cheating, scumbag, but at least he wasn’t a reckless lying, cheating, scumbag.

Behind him, the blonde crawled out of bed, grabbed her clothes, and started getting dressed. “I’m really sorry,” she said. “I had no idea he was…involved.”

Justine snorted. “He’s not. Not anymore, anyway. But don’t worry about it. He’s obviously a great liar. I don’t blame you.”

Jake made a move toward her, but she held up a hand to ward him off.

“I mean it, baby,” he said. “You know you’re it for me. Sometimes it’s just so hard to connect with you. I get scared you don’t love me as much as I love you. I’ve always been worried that you’re too good for me.”

Shame like she had never felt in her life flowed over Justine. She’d had sex with this man. Not very regularly or in a satisfying way, but still. This limp-dicked man child had been inside her and it had taken her by surprise that he was cheating on her. Hell, he’d probably been cheating on her all along, and she’d had no idea. He was standing here, dick still wet from another woman—another woman he’d also lied to and played—giving her cheap lines out of the cheater’s playbook, and she hadn’t left yet.

And the worst part? She’d always known Jake wasn’t The One. He wasn’t even her type. He was just…there. It was sheer laziness that had kept them together, and that was just gross.

Well, she couldn’t make up for her lost time and self-respect, but she could fix that .

Grabbing a reusable grocery bag from the hall closet, she started gathering everything she’d left there, which, thankfully, wasn’t much. Box of tampons, bottle of shampoo and lotion, hair dryer, toothbrush, a couple pair of underwear and a few T-shirts…yep. That was about it.

Kind of sad when she thought about it. The entirety of their relationship fit in the confines of a small grocery sack. What the hell had she been thinking dating this loser?

But none of that was important anymore. So, clutching her grocery sack to her chest, she turned to address her ex-boyfriend, hopefully for the last time. “Jake, that might be the only thing you were absolutely 100% right about. I’m definitely too good for you.”

And with that, she spun on her heel to leave. The blonde beat her to the door, biting her thumbnail nervously. “Um…he drove me here. If you’re going downtown, can I catch a ride with you?”

Only in her life—or a rom com starring Katherine Heigel or some shit—would her ex-boyfriend’s ex -sex partner, the one she caught him cheating with, ask for a ride home. “Sure,” she said on a humorless chuckle. “Why the fuck not?”

The grateful blonde, whose name was Gloria, Justine would later learn, hustled past her as Jake sputtered in naked, limp-dicked protest behind them. Leaving at that moment without saying another word would’ve been considered taking the high road. It would’ve been very demure. Very mindful.

Too bad she only had a passing acquaintance with the demure and mindful high road .

With one last withering glance in his direction, Justine said, “By the way, the clit is nowhere near where you seem to think it is.”

And on that note, she slammed the door behind her.

The drive with Gloria took several unexpected turns. First of all, Gloria was a neighbor. She lived in the building across the street from Justine’s half duplex. They’d probably passed each other on the way to work or the corner coffee shop a thousand times and never noticed. (Especially since Justine made it a point to avoid eye contact with neighbors. Eye contact led to small talk, and small talk was abhorrent.)

Second of all, Gloria was beautiful, funny, and had a wickedly dark sense of humor. The fact that Jake had been able to pull a woman like her made Justine feel a little bit better about having fallen for his nice-guy bullshit.

It was probably because Gloria was such a delightful woman that Justine ended up suggesting they check out the Monster Match. But the fact that she was currently wearing her sluttiest little black dress with three tequila shots in her bloodstream? That was Gloria’s fault.

It was kind of surreal. She was on this property nearly every day and somehow it still surprised her how stunning the main house was.

The place was a gothic wet dream. With its ornate style, stone facade, soaring arches, and rich jewel-toned finishings, it looked like the kind of place where Dracula would seduce his next bride.

Not entirely a far-fetched theory, seeing as there were currently at least ten vampires who may or may not be Dracula sitting here, speed dating human women with matrimony on the brain.

They weren’t talking to her, though. No, she was stuck with a werewolf who would not shut up about his new sports car. Honestly, it was making Justine question every decision she’d made all night. Again.

She glanced over at Gloria, who shot her a very enthusiastic thumb up from the table next to hers. Apparently, her date with the basilisk was going better than Justine’s. Looked like she was on her own.

The wolf— what the hell was his name? Derek? Damon? It was something with a “d”, right? —ran a hand through his longish blond hair (which, even Justine was willing to admit was glorious) and said, “So, I told the salesman there was no way I would ever own a 4-cylinder, even if it was turbo charged, and I needed him to find me a?—”

Justine shot to her feet, only wobbling slightly on the four-inch heels Gloria had arm-twisted her into wearing and snatched her phone off the table. “I’m so sorry, but I have to take this call. It’s my mom. Probably an emergency.”

Derek or Damon or whatever raised a brow at her. “But your phone didn’t ring.”

D’oh! That’s what she got for making up excuses while half-lit on tequila. “Um…I meant she texted. I, uh, have the sound off, but I saw the message. Anyhoo, Derek?—”

He frowned. “It’s David.”

Mentally, she face-palmed. But at least she’d been partially right. His name had, in fact, been something with a “d”. “I’m sorry, David ,” she said with as much sincerity as she could muster, considering he hadn’t asked her a single question about herself and had spent the entirety of their speed date spouting lame car facts. “But I’ve had one hell of a night, and the truth is…I just need to leave. Coming here was a mistake.”

He might’ve said something or objected to her leaving, but Justine had no way of hearing it. She was already more than halfway to the door.

It wasn’t until she’d stumbled out onto the mansion’s front lawn that she realized she’d left her jacket—the one that contained her valet parking ticket—inside on the back of her chair. So now, after everything she’d been through that night, she’d have to sheepishly go back in, face David, the car-obsessed werewolf, and get her valet ticket for the truck she wouldn’t be able to drive because she was drunk.

The scream of pure frustration she let out felt like it had been ripped from her very soul. It went on until every breath of air in her lungs was gone and her cells were screaming for oxygen. And when she couldn’t scream anymore, when she was fighting off tears out of sheer spite because no one deserved her fucking tears, she felt…

Well, she felt better, honestly.

“Who do I need to kill?”

Justine swallowed a startled shriek as Khill stepped in front of her. She’d momentarily forgotten he lived on the property. She blamed the tequila. “You scared me.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at her. “You screamed and you’re almost crying. Who do I need to kill?”

That was really sweet. Psychotic, maybe. But sweet, nonetheless. It was nice to have someone on her side who was ready to commit a felony on her behalf. “I caught Jake with another woman tonight. And when I say ‘with’, I mean inside of.”

He gave her a stiff nod and said, “OK.”

And with that, he spun on his heel, ostensibly to go kill Jake. She had to grab his forearm and dig her heels into the dirt to stop him. Jake was an ass, but he wasn’t worth jail time. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Truly.”

His stony gaze moved over her face for a moment. “You don’t look fine.”

She sighed. “I’m mad at myself more than anything. He was a weasel-dicked little chucklefuck, and on some level, I always knew that. I shouldn’t have been surprised he was a cheater. Truth is, there were red flags all over the place, and I overlooked them.”

“Why?”

“I was lonely, I guess? Or maybe it was temporary insanity. I don’t know. But it’s not important now.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped, but at least he seemed to give up on his plans to kill Jake. That’s when his gaze shifted off her face and trailed down slowly—oh, so slowly—over her dress.

It occurred to her in that moment that Khill had never seen her outside of scrubs or casual wear. The leap from those outfits to her current one was shockingly huge.

On a woman of average height, the dress would probably hit about knee level. But on Justine? Mid-thigh. The deep V-neck wouldn’t have been scandalous on a small-breasted woman. On Justine, it was toeing the line of decency. And the lace-over-silk fabric was ridiculously sexy.

Maybe it was the tequila talking, but she would swear in a court of law under oath that she could actually feel the weight of his gaze as it traced her curves.

Everywhere. It. Touched.

After what felt like a breathless eternity, he asked in that low, gravelly voice of his, “Why are you here , in that dress?”

The truth spilled out before she could stop it. Fucking tequila. “I came to get laid.”