Oliver turned and stared, awestruck, at Caleb’s muscles. “Oh my,” he murmured. “This image is definitely going into the spank bank.”
I groaned. So. Not. What. I. Needed. “Oliver, stop eye-raping the beejezus out of my partner.”
“But he’s so tasty-looking,” Oliver said.
“I’m the vampire. Not you.”
“Please tell me you’ve had a nibble,” Oliver said.
I saw Caleb’s hands twitch, and I’d bet my savings that he wanted to cover himself. Welcome to my world.
“Oliver, what are you doing here?” Caleb asked, stepping into the room.
Oliver gave him a look like it should be obvious. “Visiting Gabrielle. Duh.”
I rubbed my eyes. “I must be dreaming,” I said, sitting up. “There’s no way you’re really here.”
“Nope, you’re definitely not dreaming.”
“This is some horrible nightmare,” I insisted.
Oliver sashayed over to me and pinched my arm. Hard.
“Ow!” I yelped, swatting his hand away.
“See?” he said, “Not dreaming.” His eyes strayed back to Caleb, who now leaned against the wall, looking sleepy and amused. Oliver tilted his head. “Then again …” He took a step forward, a nefarious little smile on his face.
Caleb’s eyes widened and he held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don’t even think of trying anything, fairy.”
Oliver sighed. “Damn, this isn’t a dream.”
“Seriously Oliver, what are you doing here?” I asked. I’d been so close to sleep. So, so close.
He raised his hands in the air, baring himself like an offering. “Ta-dah,” he said. “I’m your Christmas present.”
This wasn’t happening. All that is holy, please tell me this wasn’t happening.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How, exactly, did you get here?”
Oliver waved a hand dismissively. “Ley lines.”
Ley lines. Of course. He probably trampled right through our crime scene. Fairies.
Oliver’s eyes moved over my blood-spattered body, and then he whistled. “Geez Sabertooth, did you munch on someone?” He gasped as another thought came to him. “You dirty slut!” he squealed. “You lost your V-card, didn’t you? I did not peg you for the S and M type, but then again, you are—”
“She got stabbed, Oliver.” Caleb’s voice sounded tired and surprisingly defensive.
Oliver’s expression morphed into one of shock. “Oh … dear.” His surprise only lasted a moment, and then he moved into action.
He came over to my side of the bed. “You haven’t even been able to clean up yet, have you?” he clucked. “C’mon sweet thing, let’s get you a shower.” He picked up my hand and gave it a tug.
I moaned and resisted. At this point, I was willing to pass out in bloody clothes.
“You sound like a zombie. Actually, you kind of look like one too …” Oliver turned to Caleb. “Are you sure she just got stabbed?”
“Meanie,” I mumbled.
Caleb folded his arms, and his eyes flicked to me. “Want me to kick him out? Just give me the word, and I will.”
“Hey!” Oliver said.
Painfully I pushed myself upright. “No, that’s alright,” I said to Caleb, “though I do appreciate the thought.”
Oliver huffed, but he was wise enough not to say anything for once.
Pulling my shoes off, I stumbled over to the bathroom, ignoring the men in my room.
It didn’t last long. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Caleb asked, leaning in the doorway.
I bent down and turned on the shower. “I’ll be fine.”
“What are we supposed to do with him?” he asked.
I rubbed my forehead. “I have no idea.”
The buzzing of my phone’s alarm woke me. I wanted to cry. It was morning already? The alarm had to be wrong; I swear I’d just closed my eyes.
When I reached over and to turn it off, I felt a warm body brush against my back, and a hand squeezed my breast.
What. The. Hell?
I made a strangled noise, and the hand squeezed tighter.
“Oliver!” I yelped, my face turning all sorts of red. Not cool. This was so not cool.
“Huh?” I heard the rustle of fabric as his head lifted from the pillow. “Oh—ah, I’m … er, touching your boob—ew.”
“Could you remove it, please?” I asked, my voice strained.
Why me? I shook my fist at the ceiling.
“What are you doing?” he murmured, removing his hand and eyeing my fist. He shook his head and lay back down. “You’re such a big weirdo.” His body shifted, and I felt something press into my back.
I couldn’t help it, I shrieked. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! Morning wood! And it touched me! Ohmygod. You don’t even like women.” I said this last part accusingly.
Oliver squealed as well. “Geez Sabertooth, stop screaming. It’s freaking me out.”
“It’s freaking you out? It’s freaking you out!” I was officially losing it. “Well I’ll tell you what’s freaking me out. My gay friend has a—”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I was getting turned on by you, harpy woman. Get over yourself.”
“You were copping a feel in your sleep!”
Oliver opened his mouth, then closed it and paused, a horrified expression gradually passing over his face. “I was.” He sucked in a breath and glared at his hand accusingly. “But I don’t like boobs …” he whispered to himself.
A knock on the door interrupted us. I scrambled out of the bed and opened it, eager to put as much distance between me and that incident as possible.
Caleb stood on the other side, already dressed for the day. Morning people. “Is everything okay?” he asked. He took me in then eyed the room beyond me. “I heard screaming.”
“That would be the banshee you’re referring to,” Oliver yelled from the bed.
I cleared my throat. “Everything’s fine. Just finished getting my morning’s friendly frisk from Oliver.” I yelled this last part over my shoulder.
“Want one?” Oliver called back to Caleb.
Caleb pressed his lips together in an attempt to keep from laughing. “Tempting, but I think I’ll pass.”