“Did you at least shower?” I asked.
“I didn’t have a chance, Sam. You see, Franklin came to my door and said that you were here waiting. That it was important. You think I would waste precious time showering when something is so important?”
“I’ve been waiting twenty minutes.”
“I asked if you thought I would waste precious time showering, not finishing.”
“You’re a pig.”
“I am, but you knew that when you first met me.”
It was true. Kingsley had been an infamous womanizer back when he’d hired me two years ago. I’d made an honest man out of him; that is, until my fallen angel had decided to show me Kingsley’s true colors...and baited my then-boyfriend. Kingsley had fallen for the bait, and screwed his way out of our relationship. He had been trying to win me back ever since.
He laughed lightly, got up again—this time, mercifully keeping his robe closed—and went over to the bar in the far corner of the room and poured himself a finger or three of Scotch. He next reached into the wine cooler and removed what I could only imagine was a fine bottle of white wine—a chardonnay, no doubt. He poured a healthy amount, re-corked it and returned the bottle to the fridge—knowing I generally only drank one glass.
“Ferrari-Carano,” said Kingsley, coming over to me and handing me the cool glass. “Your favorite.”
It was, although a fat lot of good it did me, since I hadn’t been buzzed in seven years. At least, not buzzed on alcohol.
“Thank you,” I said, “and thank you for flashing me for a third time.”
“Third time’s a charm,” he said, making himself comfortable on the couch across from me.
“More like three strikes and you’re out,” I mumbled.
“I heard that, Sam. My hearing’s a little better than yours.”
“That’s right, because you’re part dog.”
“Sam...”
“Or, should I say, all dog?”
“Sam, I’ve apologized for what I’ve done.”
“Then apologize again, dammit.”
He looked at me from over his amber-filled glass. His bare foot waggled nervously, like a dog’s tail. His shaggy hair hung disheveled around his shoulder. He gave me a sincere look. It was the same look, I was willing to bet, that he’d given jurors in courts of law. Still, he was trying, and I appreciated his effort.
“Sam,” he said, “I’m truly sorry that I did what I did. It was stupid mistake.”
“Damn right it was stupid.”
“I was stupid.”
“Damn right, you were stupid.”
“Now, other than getting on me for the hundredth time about my stupidity, why did you come here tonight?”
I wanted to still be mad at him, but how did I stay mad at a werewolf who wiggled his foot like a puppy dog who needed attention? I couldn’t, and let it go for now, and I told him about my new case. He listened quietly, drinking idly, nodding sometimes and making wolfish grunting noises. Okay, maybe not wolfish. That might have been my imagination.
When I was wrapping up, I added, “You know Hanner, Kingsley. And you knew her well before I did. Hell, she supplied you blood for me...or for your other vampire guests. I need to find her.”
“I don’t know much about her, Sam. In fact, I would hazard to guess that you know far more about her at this point than I do.”
“How did you two first meet?” I asked. I was holding my wine, but it was mostly forgotten. Little things like my throat getting dry or my voice getting hoarse from too much talking never, ever happened to me these days. Minor irritants like that healed instantly. And my body, apparently, didn’t need much water. I knew water helped remove dangerous toxins from normal people. Except, of course, I had no more fear of dangerous toxins of any sort. I knew water cushioned joints and helped carry nutrients to cells and helped regulate body temperature.
What, exactly, was cushioning my cells, I didn’t know. And whether or not my cells needed any nutrients, I didn’t know that either, but one thing I did know was this: blood did the universal trick. It had everything I needed, and then some. I’d gone days without drinking water and hadn’t missed a beat. And, no, I didn’t use the bathroom, either.
Like I said, I’m a freak.
Yes, I operated by different physical rules, although the emotions had mostly stayed intact. I could still feel hurt and jealousy and rage. Losing control of myself was just what she wanted. I had to stay in control. Stay human.
“We met at a paranormal convention,” Kingsley was saying. “At the North Pole with Santa Claus.”
“Jerk,” I said.
He chuckled lightly. “Sam, I’m involved in a sort of network of the undead, you could say. Or, in my case, supernaturals.”
“You are not undead?”
“Not quite, Sam. I can live for a very long time, but werewolves are not ageless.”
Kingsley had explained once the reason for his great size. He had not started out so big. Over the years, and with each cycle of the moon, his body adopted the werewolf’s form more and more. The bigger he got, the closer he got to the beast within, the easier it was for him to transform with each full moon. A change that was not very pleasant.
I nodded. “If werewolves were immortal...”
“We would be big as cars,” he finished.
I recalled the hulking beast standing in my hotel room two years ago. Yes, Kingsley was huge in his changeling form. Truth was, he was not that far off from his alter ego’s size.
“How old are you again?” I asked.
“I’m close to eighty, Sam.”
“And you don’t look a day over forty-five.”
“I was thinking forty, but whatever,” he said. “And I know what you’re thinking...”
I looked at him for a long moment, and fought a strong need to reach for his big hand. “What am I thinking?”
“You’re wondering how I could possibly be so good looking. It’s not easy, let me tell you. The hair care products alone cost me a fortune.”
I laughed, and as I did so, I realized there would be a day when Kingsley wasn’t here for me either, and that thought brought anguish to my heart and tears to my eyes.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said, reaching over and gently lifting my jaw. “I’m not going anywhere for a long time.”
“How long?”
“A long, long time.”