Page 3 of One Killer Night

My sister’s cackling as I flop my blown-up dome down and cover my face with my three claws before I hiss “What is wrong with you?” as I look back at the screen. “They looked like they wanted to call the cops. What would I have done? Run? I’m pretty sure the cops would’ve been able to hear me at least halfway down the block. Either that or the friction from this suit would’ve set me on fire.”

Evie’s hands muffle her giggling, but she still manages to get an eye roll out of me.

“Come on. I’m supposed to ignore the opportunity for comedic gold? The bit presented itself. It was my obligation to accept it.” I reach for the zipper of my costume to free my head as she adds, “But no more super-fun distractions. Just hurry, ’kay? I need bluuhd.”

“Yes, psycho,” I breathe out. “I’m on it. I will haul dino ass the whole five blocks.”

She hangs up as my shoulders shake. I clear my throat quietly while, out of my periphery, I notice someone new coming around the aisle, but I’m already mid-swish-swish back to my phone. But I don’t get a look at whoever’s approaching because as I reach out, my polyester claws make me clumsy, and my big blown-up fingers knock my phone sideways, plummeting it straight off the shelf.

“Noooooo—”

I’m squealing my plea to the phone gods as it dives toward the floor in what feels like a dramatic slow-motion reenactment of “fuck around and find out.”

Gah, why didn’t I take my hand out of the costume?

To drive that point home, the piercing smack against the floor forces my eyes closed and my soul into deep cracked-screen pain.

I grunt as I bend over, not caring about who’s watching.

Which is exactly the opposite of what the Lord intended for this costume because the head grows taller and pops back over my real one. Since I’m not zipped, my face lands somewhere around the neck,leaving me in the dark while I try and swipe the floor with my teeny freaking arms.

“Dammit,” I grit out, swishing louder and louder, not reaching anything, just grabbing at air like a jackass, looking a lot like Chris Farley inTommy Boywhen he put the coat on that was too small.

“I hate you,” I groan, talking to the costume while trying to move myself to a better position. But because my life brand has suddenly become “hot mess,” my tail hits a shelf, knocking a bunch of stuff onto the floor.

“No wonder I went extinct,” I mutter before I jerk back up with a heavy whoosh of a breath. My dino head flops halfway off before I’m soul-shatteringly arrested.

Frozen.

Like cemented in place.

Oh. My. God.

Standing tall enough to force my chin up is a drool-worthy neck tattoo attached to the first and hopefully last hallucination I’ll ever have because if I’m dying, he’s definitely heaven. My lips part and then shut before repeating the process as my lashes flutter a bit too fast, maybe to keep time with how my heart rate just picked up.

A pair of sapphire eyes so boldly accessorized by the dreamiest olive skin stare back at me. Not to mention a jawline that makes me want to see him get angry, just so I can watch it tic. He runs his hand through effortlessly sexy charcoal black bed head hair before he smirks.

This man cannot be real. Except it kind of feels like I’ve seen him before.

“Damon?” I whisper, my thoughts tumbling out faster than my mouth can stop them.

Oh my god ... I just said that aloud. I called him theVampire Diariesguy’s name.

Before I can enter into evidence a defense plea of mentally unfit, his voice washes over me, deep and rich, like the embodiment of luxury—or velvet—or something else that feels insanely sexy.

“No ... Noah, but I do have a brother named Stefan.”

My eyes pop open. “You do?”

He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, letting it glide out slowly before shaking his head no.

I have to curl my pout in over my teeth to hide my embarrassment, still feeling the burn in my cheeks, as he bends to swipe my phone off the floor.

Jesus, he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my whole life. And I’m dressed like a flipping dinosaur. Amazing.

My hands work quickly and of their own accord, shoving the costume off my head and smoothing my errant hair because I’m not thinking, at least not with my brain. No, that’s malfunctioning as I swallow hard, watching him straighten to his six-foot, I’d-have-your-babies height.

His eyes glimmer with amusement as I swallow down my dignity.