Page 43 of Venomous as a Snake

“I’m really not in the mood.”

He shoves me again, and I notice Hooker has gone from barking to a bassy growl. My Dogo stares through the glass, his nearly black eyes filled with rage as he glances from my attacker to Pimp…

Pimp, the smart cat who is adamant about opening the door.

Bless that fucking shit-starter.

The flat handle pushes down. He just needs to find the right amount of weight. And he will. Opening doors is almost as much fun to him as pushing shit off the counters.

Cliff the Cleft shoves me against the sink. I lean to the left, putting him between me and my fearsome backup.

Pimp finds the perfect amount of pressure to release the latch inside the door.

The click is a deafening sound that silences our grunts and growls.

Hooker’s claws scratch across the tile as he barrels into Cliff’s legs from behind. Cloth and skin tear as my Dogo defends me. The cocksure saw viper screams like a little girl in a haunted house, letting me go to fight the ravenous beast attached to him.

Until today, I wasn’t sure Pimp would ever be helpful in a fight… I was dead wrong.

These two deserve a whale-sized treat after this.

But the Maine Coon isn’t done, though I wish he was.

“Pimp,” I reprimand as he pushes my bowl of batter onto the floor.

Hooker yelps, sliding backward into the pantry door. And I grab the waffle maker’s cord in both hands, throwing the middle portion over Cliff’s head. I spin, dragging him against my back, and bend at the waist. His toes scuff on my floor, but he can’t get his feet beneath him.

My Dogo stands, shaking his head, before viciously grabbing a mouthful of Cliff’s thigh muscle.

And for some ungodly reason, my doorbell rings.

I clear my throat, trying to sound like I’m busy and flustered, not killing a man in my kitchen with waffle batter squishing between my toes.

“Just a minute!”

I jerk on the cord. Cliff makes some disturbing noises as I choke the life out of him.

Another unrecognizable voice speaks from my entryway. “Should we go in?”

“The door is open,” Walker replies, sounding confused.

I almost relax when I hear him, but I don’t.

They step around the living room wall, and my mate rolls his lips between his teeth, trying to cover his surprised smile. His friend is gaping, eyes comical, as he points at me.

“Help her.”

“Nah. I’ll just get in her way, Collin. She’s a big girl,” Walker tells him, then moves closer to me, because now is the perfect time for conversation. “Your front door was open.”

Hooker growls low, shaking his head and ripping Cliff’s pants.

“Yeah, well…” I roll my eyes to look over my shoulder. “Kinda too busy to close it.”

“Who is that?” Walker asks.

His friend whispers, “Oh my god. Help. Her.”

“Cliff,” I answer, feeling him go limp against my back.