“Don’t hold your breath. Oh wait, never mind,” Nolan calls after him.
“Ah, dead jokes. You’re hilarious,” Felix shouts back over his shoulder. “Don’t quit your day job.”
Nolan grins, then watching Connor and Felix walk away, he asks, “Did Connor’s shirt say ‘Ninja’ on it? I’m proud of him for trying. Last year he was a lumberjack… except he forgot an ax, so it was just him dressed as himself.”
“We’re just ignoring what happened there?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“What can I say? Wolf politics are complicated,” he answers with a ‘what-can-you-do?’ quirk of his lips.
Pointing my finger back and forth between the two locations Connor and Sam went off in, I press, “And you have no idea what that was all about?”
“Nope. Nor do I want to. If it’s something we need to know, Connor will tell us,” he insists.
“Uh huh. Because Connor is so forthcoming,” I mutter, completely ignoring that it’s not like I’m an open book. Deciding to drop it, for now, I question, “Is this normal? All of them ditching you at your own birthday party?”
“This is the big party where I have to be the host and everything, so it’s not that big of a deal,” he answers with a shrug of his shoulders and a dismissive smile. “We’ll do a private thing on the second, which is my actual birthday.”
With hands fisted on my hips, a pinched expression takes over my face. Very slowly, I utter, “Are you saying I could’ve skipped out on this loud, crowded full of people I don’t know, party because your actual birthday party is next week?”
He drops one hand on my shoulder, and it’s surprisingly cool on my bare skin. With big innocent eyes, he admonishes, “Our Halloween parties are a tradition for Twin Cedar Pass, and it’d be weird if my new best friend didn’t come.”
I narrow my eyes and mutter, “People already think I’m weird, and you just said you’re going to play host the entire time. I could be in comfy jammies right now, instead of worrying about wedgies all night.”
Gathering me up in one of his hugs, he replies sweetly, “Thank you for coming, and you look lovely in your costume.” Then laughing darkly, he adds, “And I’d be happy to help with wedgie watch.”
“How magnanimous of you, but I think I’ll pass,” I grumble. Noticing that Nolan’s been talking with a subtle lisp, I take a closer look at his mouth and realize why. “You’re wearing fake vampire teeth.Whyare you wearing fake vampire teeth?”
He releases me, steps back, and holds out his arms so I can fully appreciate his costume, announcing, “I’m The Vampire Lestat from Queen of the Damned.”
On top of the fake vampire teeth, he’s wearing a chin-length ash blonde wig, eyeliner that highlights his pale ice blue eyes, a leather dress coat, leather pants… and also no shirt.
“Your vampire costume and Donovan’s rock star costume look a lot alike, just saying,” I comment, holding my hands behind my back… totally not using the gift bag to try and cover my butt that’s hanging out of these shorts or anything.Should have used a larger gift bag.
Nolan smirks. “Probably because Lestat was a rock star in the movie.”
“Of course, silly me.”
I lean in closer to him, his familiar cologne scent mixing with the odd almost vanilla smell of the fog machines, then run a single finger across his chest. He jumps with surprise, while I examine my finger. No makeup.
Dragging him by one hand with only a minor wobble as I walk, I find a hidden spot among the decorations so we won’t be seen or overheard by any guests.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” I murmur.
His gaze drops, but his tone remains casual, “Callie love, I’m always hungry. Comes with the territory. But I’m fine, really.”
“You’re not fine,” I insist, squeezing his hand. “You’re movie vampire pale without makeup.” That’s when I start doing the math in my head. “Oh my god, you haven’t fed in nearly two weeks, have you? Why didn’t you say something?”
“It’s not that bad,” he assures, shifting his weight to his back foot and putting a little more distance between us. “I still have at least three more days in me before it becomes a problem.”
I groan and nearly smack myself in the face with his birthday present when I try to rub at my temple.
“The whole point is that you don’t have to hold out until it becomes unbearable,” I emphasize. “Walking, talking, endless blood source right here. All the food, none of the guilt.”
He chuckles and reaches up to run his fingers through his hair, only to remember he’s wearing a wig and drops it back down at his side.
“Is it because of what happened before?” I question, then drop my voice to barely a whisper, “I really am sorry about that. I promise I’ll control myself this time.”
“What did I say about apologizing for that?” he reminds with a growl. “Don’t think I won’t do what I threatened to.”
