Wolf at the Door

chapter Twenty-six



“What the—?”

Edward sat up. He was in his hotel room, in his bed. And he was naked. And he had no idea how he’d gotten there. The last thing he remembered was . . . was . . .

Bluff sex!

Oh my God! Bluff sex!

He booted the covers away and kicked joyously at the ceiling. “Yes, yes, yesyesyes!” It wasn’t a dream! Probably! Too bad he couldn’t remember anything after bluff sex . . . no. Wait.

There was something else, by God! Yeah, there it was: by the time they’d hiked back to the car, dawn was only a couple of hours away and he was staggering. Not that he was any sort of wimp—he jogged, he lifted, and he occasionally helped Boo hunt vampires. Still: he’d had to give up a lot of, um, bodily fluids recently. Way more than he was used to, that was for damned sure.

He remembered sort of collapsing into the car, then Rachael hauling him out and helping him stretch out in the backseat. Then she’d asked for an address, and he’d mumbled something, and then she’d taken his key card, and then was helping him inside, and then . . .

. . . he woke up.

Had she undressed him? Had he undressed himself in some sort of sexual stupor? Had he never gotten dressed after bluff sex? And why did he care?

I am totally marrying that chick. Assuming she’d even have me.

Right. But first things first: duty called. Only yesterday, when he had no idea things like bluff sex existed, he had met a zombie and figured it was past time to call Boo. But now he was glad he hadn’t.

The zombie hadn’t hurt him, right? Hadn’t hurt anybody as far as Edward could see. In fact, the shambling undead thing had gone out of its way to be polite and helpful. It might be premature to call Boo. He needed to do more recon.

And it had nothing, at all, to do with the fact that once Boo flew to town and kicked some collective undead ass, his work here would be done. There’d be nothing to prevent him from going back home.

It had nothing to do with that. He just didn’t want to waste Boo’s time. He wanted to be sure before he loosed the beast on an unsuspecting undead populace.

It had nothing to do with wanting more bluff sex. And how he couldn’t wait to watch Rache put away, oh, half a dozen Subway foot-longs.

It didn’t.

It didn’t.

So: he’d recon. Right now.