After Wyatt successfully secured our access to the Vampire lovers’ website, he posted a request for a woman with mismatched eyes. We added the “money is no object” line, and Niko rephrased everything to sound more like an ancient had written it.
In the days that followed, I’d visited the club four times to become a familiar face, but we still hadn’t heard back from our mysterious dealer. So far, the only replies to our message were from two girls. They posted selfies, and it was obvious they were both wearing special effects contacts. All we could do was cast a line and wait. I’d gone twice in jeans and the other two times in my slutty black dress. Christian suggested my outfit was too revealing for any sensible immortal man to appreciate, so this time I decided to go another route.
“Hot mama.” Wyatt waggled his eyebrows when I strutted into the dining room. He pushed away from the wall and circled around me. “My, oh my. If this is the direction this house is going fashion wise, I vote yes.”
I glanced down at my tight leather pants. No place to hide daggers—not that they would provide much defense against a Vampire. My tight black shirt had a high collar and long sleeves with the shoulders cut out. Elegant yet sexy.
Gem peered around her booth seat. “That’s really you. I like it so much better than the jeans you’re always wearing. All that black makes your necklace stand out, and those boots are to die for.”
My heels clicked on the floor as I headed over and gave her the model strut. “They look all right, but they’re gonna kill my feet. And don’t get excited about the leathers. I don’t think I could wear these all the time unless they were breathable.”
Wyatt leaned against the edge of the table. “Better stick close to the bar. If you boogie down in those all night, you’ll be sweating like a pig on the run.”
Gem peered up at him. “How would you know?”
“I went through a tight leather phase a few decades ago.”
I mashed my lips together to stifle a laugh. Wyatt had more stories than a high-rise.
Wyatt stepped away from the table, arms folded. “Hey, it was the eighties, and everyone was doing it.”
Gem snorted and tied one of the laces on her tall sneakers. “You lose coolness points if they were red.”
“Where’s your hot date tonight?” I asked, noticing her plain sweaterdress and leggings.
She ruffled her wavy hair with her hand. “Hooper’s at work.”
“Does he have long hours?”
Her violet eyes flashed up, and she stared vacantly at the window behind Viktor’s chair. “Alas, I have to wait until he has a day off to see him. When he leaves the club, all he wants to do is sleep.”
“I guess it sucks being the flexible one. Why don’t you go up there and pay him a visit?”
She turned her head and widened her eyes. “I can’t do that! He’ll think I’m a stalker. Besides, going to the club isn’t spending quality time together. This is why I have no business dating the same guy more than once. I didn’t realize how complicated every little thing becomes.”
I rocked on my heels. “So what are you two doing in here? Lunch is over.”
“Snack time ain’t,” Wyatt said, staring at the kitchen doorway. “She won’t let me in the kitchen.”
“Who?”
He raised his arms and dropped them heavily at his side. “Kira. I came down for a soda, but the kitchen’s off-limits. I keep hearing things banging around in there. All I want is a drink. And maybe a frozen burrito.”
“Maybe you should put another machine upstairs.”
He dipped his chin. “Keep on goading me, and see what happens to the price of Fritos. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you eyeing them.”
I held my heart-shaped pendant and ran it along the chain as my thoughts drifted. “Can you keep an eye on the website tonight while we’re gone?”
He pinched some scruff on his chin and regarded his white socks. “As always.”
“Call if anything comes up. It’s been almost a week, and I’m starting to feel like this guy doesn’t want to make any money.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to look eager.”
“He better get eager. I’ve done the short skirt, the fishnet stockings, and the black dress. I’m all out of ideas.”
Wyatt smiled. “Maybe you should meet at a nudist bar.”
“Ew.” Gem wrinkled her nose. “You’d have to hose down the barstools every night.”
He barked out a laugh. “You think the ones you sit on now are clean, Mother Teresa? There isn’t enough holy water in Cognito to wash the filth off those greasy stools.”
I headed toward the kitchen doorway.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Wyatt sang.
Ignoring him, I went in. Kira must have heard my boots, because she appeared out of nowhere to shoo me out.
But I wasn’t easily shooed.
“Wyatt needs a drink,” I informed her. When she didn’t respond, I jerked my thumb behind me and then used my hand to mimic drinking.
She wiped her flushed forehead with the back of her hand, her hair askew from the loose braids on either side of her head that barely held it all together. I was curious to see what she’d been up to, so I ventured farther inside and looked around.
The granite countertops and appliances gleamed, as did the floor, which still had water drying on it. The long, narrow kitchen had small windows along the far wall that overlooked the front property. She must have gone outside and collected acorns, dead leaves, and twigs to fill the tall vase in front of the window.
Nice touch.
I approached the kitchen island and noticed the dust bunnies beneath the cabinets were nonexistent. “You keep a tidy house.”
She wrung a dish towel between her hands, eyes downcast.
Wyatt strode in and yanked open the fridge. He bent over, giving me a good view of his ass. “Where’s my Mountain Dew? Hey, wait a second.” He shut the door and opened the freezer. After a beat, Wyatt slammed the door and stormed over to the deep freezer near the entranceway.
Gem wandered in and leaned against the wall. “Are you going to build a home in there?” she asked Wyatt, who was headfirst in the freezer with his feet off the ground.
He stood up, frost clinging to the ends of his brown hair. “Our food’s gone.”
“She probably moved everything so she could clean.”
Wyatt looked at Kira like a man in survival mode. “Where’s my soda? And the ice cream?”
When she shrugged, he began opening all the cabinets. “The chips are gone. And the waffle mix.”
Gem inched in. “Hey, I like my waffles.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Here I was, going undercover to bait a sadistic Vampire, and Wyatt’s biggest crisis was discovering his snacks were missing.
He opened a narrow closet and dragged the heavy trash can out. “Son of a ghost. She threw away all the food.”
Kira tried to pull the trash away from him, but he held on firmly.
“This isn’t trash,” Wyatt explained, holding up a bottle of orange soda. “This is what we eat. Haven’t you ever seen food before?”
Without missing a beat, Kira reached for the soda and twisted it open. She then waltzed over to the windowsill and began pouring it onto a small plant.
Fed up, Wyatt walked over and took the bottle away. “What are you doing that for? You’re going to kill it.”