Page 56 of An Espresso Machine’s Guide to Love & Mischief

He’s clearly the biggest threat of the bunch, so I let go of the old woman and leap at him. I aim for his crotch—it’s closer when I’m in raccoon form, and will take him down just as well as aiming for the nose or throat. It’s a low blow—but effective—and I’ve long since learned that when your life is at stake, you don’t fight fair. You fight to win.

My teeth clamp down on his goods, and he lets out a bellow that echoes across the lawn. I wouldn’t be surprised if the sound reaches Queen’s Quay.

I let go of his nuts and twist so I can land in front of the next most likely threat: the young woman with purple hair.

She pulls out a wooden tube from her hoodie and lifts one end to her lips.

I recognize it immediately. It’s a blowgun used to shoot poisoned darts. What the fuck?

I’d encountered them before, among the tribes deep in the Amazon jungle. Where in hell did this pale-skinned twenty-year-old in Toronto get one? How did she even learn to use it?

I dash to the side, but with the injuries I’ve sustained, I’m not quick enough. The dart hits my side and I feel a piercing pain.

My eyes become heavy as the poison floods into my bloodstream. Fuck, if she shot me with curare, I will suffocate and die.

I stumble forward, my feet tripping up one another, and land forward on my injured leg. A pained cry slips past my lips before I can stop it.

Move, I urge my limbs, move, move, move!

Nothing happens.

I need to get out of here. I need to get to my fated mate on the off chance that I can still save her. I’m her only hope. The only one who even knows that she’s here. And no one has a fucking clue I’m… I’m…

My thoughts become as thick as London fog and slower than a Galápagos tortoise. I try to climb to my feet, but my legs feel far away. They aren’t quite a part of me anymore.

Then everything goes dark.

Chapter 27

Diva

Electricity floods me like a good, strong drink rushing through my blood.

The world returns to full color and sound as though it had just been created out of nothing.

“Please, don’t unplug—” I cry, only to stop myself because it’s too late. I was already unplugged.

I still don’t understand how Trevor went from slightly tolerable to a complete asshole in under half an hour. Usually, people become nicer after they eat. You know, hangry to angelic or whatever. But this guy took the complete opposite turn.

Thankfully, he’s not here—though part of me wishes he was. Then I could give him hell for plunging me into a deep, dark death.

Instead, a young woman with purple hair stands over me. Whoever dyed it did a damn good job. I can’t see any hint of roots. She has a youthful face, and the hoodie and hair make her look even younger—but she’s probably in her twenties, even if she can pass for a teenager.

“You must be Diva Del Ray,” she says cheerfully.

I glance around. I’m still in the yacht club’s dining room, which means she’s probably another kidnapper.

I gaze out the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the water and realize it’s dark out. I search for my raccoon rescuer, hoping he’s found me by now, but there’s no sign of him. It’s just me and Purple-Hair.

“Don’t try to be nice to me,” I snap back, then realize something else that really bugs me about her words. “How do you know my name?”

“There aren’t many Del Rays whose family owned cruise lines,” she says. “The ship accident was all over the news.”

If she knows I’m a Del Ray, then she spoke to Trevor. That means they’re on the same side, and I can’t trust her.

I twist my knobs. “What do you want?”

“Just to plug you back in. Trevor should have never unplugged you.”