His muscled arm was flung over his forehead in abandon, and his chest, covered in a T-shirt, lifted in a slow, mesmerizing rhythm of rippled goodness.
Her mother stabbed a finger at Khristos without saying a word, her disapproval ringing in the still apartment air as surely as if she’d expressed it verbally.
Nina strolled up behind her mother’s left shoulder, the floppy bunny ears on her slippers bobbing up and down. “Cat got your tongue?”
Her mother’s eyes went wide at Nina’s presence. “What is this?”
“Hot dude.”
“Explain!” Helen Morris demanded.
Nina scratched her head, “Um, hot dude I’d consider hittin’ if I didn’t have my own hot dude at home?”
“Why?” she spat, adjusting her yellow and blue fanny pack around her waist.
The vampire frowned. “Why is hot dude on the couch?”
When Helen didn’t answer quickly enough for Nina, she said, “Look, lady, are we free associating or playing charades or somethin’? Because it’s damn early for me, and I don’t have a pen and paper. There’s a hot dude on your kid’s couch. He’s a nice hot dude, by the way. If you’re lookin’ for anything more in-depth than that from me, you’ll have to come back in about five hours when I’ve fed…er, myself and showered.”
Her mother’s lips thinned when she crooked her neck and looked up at Nina, her sharp green eyes assessing the vampire. “And who are you?”
Nina grinned. “Me? Not the hot dude, that’s for sure.”
“Nina!” Quinn hissed in reproach, tightening the belt on her robe. “Mom, why are you here? Why didn’t you just use your key?”
Her mother planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her gaze. “Well, the row of shoes outside your door was an indication you might have guests. I didn’t want to just barge in.”
“Since when?”
Her mother’s eyes flashed all kinds of warnings. “I think explanations are in order, young lady. You’re still supposed to be in Greece, but instead you’re here with a houseful of strangers. What’s going on, Quinn?”
“Mama bear’s bowels are all twisted up,” Nina remarked, poking her finger in Quinn’s shoulder. “Looks like someone’s in for a lickin’.”
Archibald flew around the corner from the kitchen, a plate of fluffy eggs in his hand, his usually perfect hair mussed. “Forgive me, Miss Quinn. I didn’t hear the doorbell!”
“Who—are—these—people?” Helen screeched, her face turning a blotchy red, the color creeping down over her neck.
Khristos popped upward at her mother’s howl, losing his balance and promptly falling off the couch, knocking the end table lamp to the floor. He sat straight up and wiped the corner of his mouth free of drool.
Marty and Wanda flew out from behind Arch, dressed as though they’d never slept, and rushed toward Helen, surrounding her with clouds of perfume and immaculate fashion sense.
Marty held her hand out with a warm smile. “You’re Quinn’s mother? I’m Marty Flaherty. It’s so lovely to meet you! We were just getting ready for some breakfast. Won’t you join us? Arch? Would you set another place at the table?”
Wanda wrapped her arm around Helen and purposely directed her toward the table. “And I’m Wanda Schwartz. We’ve heard so many wonderful things about you from Quinn!” she cooed.
Quinn’s heart pounded in her chest as she offered her own hand to Khristos and yanked him upward, attempting to avoid his eyes. This was so, so bad. How was she not only going to explain all these people in her apartment, but her gigantic cans, purple eyes and glow-in-the-dark skin?
And Carl? Oh, Jesus and some duct tape. How would she ever explain Carl, who was still fast asleep on her floor, a blanket tucked under his chin?
Khristos bounced his head from side to side, massaging his neck. “How do you feel today? Did you get a good night’s rest?”
She ached from head to toe. Sometime during the course of the evening, Nina had explained her own ability to self-heal as she’d dropped an ice pack in Quinn’s lap. She wouldn’t complain if that had been one of the super powers bestowed upon her. It had to be more useful than enormous lady lumps.
He looked down at her and winced, trailing a finger across her bruised cheek before she took a step backward to avoid his touch. “I can’t apologize enough, Quinn. If I could take your place, I would,” he rumbled, deep and low.
God, did he have to be chivalrous and hot? She brushed it off. “I’ll heal. Nothing some aspirin and antibiotic cream won’t mend.”
“So Mom’s here. She seems nice.”
Quinn’s fists clenched at her side. Not just because her mother had arrived in all her angry disapproval, but because even in the midst of chaos and morning breath, Khristos was delicious, and he sent a ripple of hot awareness along her spine just to remind her.