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Zee preened. “Now that you mention it . . .”

“Is a penis-measuring contest truly necessary?” Of course that came from Victor.

Shotgun Troll grumbled and faced ahead again. Zee had to pinch his lips together, because . . . you know . . . penis.

During their conversation, the driver had threaded the big truck down a smooth, winding driveway that had taken us through gardens, tennis courts, and golf courses. Lots of open space and palm trees. And privacy. Where some folks might possibly get disappeared and buried under the ninth hole.

Clearly, selling drugs paid well. What were the chances that Tom Collins might know this guy?

The truck pulled around a splashing fountain, and a well-dressed doorman jogged down the steps and opened our door.

“Do you think he gets the back door too?” Zee smirked, eyeing the heavyset doorman as though picturing him naked.

“I suspect he’s more likely to be the ‘slam your balls in a door’ kind of person,” Victor said, deadpan.

We both stared at Victor as we climbed the steps behind our escorts.

Victor side-eyed us, noticing our stares. “Apologies, was that too much?”

“No, I fuckin’ like it when you get salty . . . weirdly.” Zee shivered all over. “Jealous, Fancy Fangs?”

“That is a possibility.”

“Babe, you know you’re all mine, an’ I ain’t the kind to step out, right?” Zee slung an arm around Victor’s shoulders and tugged him close.

“We’re Zee’s ke-ach,” I said.

Victor clearly knew the word and stopped dead in his tracks, holding up our retinue of guards in the grand, glass-domed entrance foyer.

Zee eye-rolled, and stepping away from Victor said, “Don’t make it weird.”

“Is that true?” Victor asked.

“Yes. Fuck. Obviously. Or I wouldn’t have said it.”

Did this ke-ach status have a more significant meaning than just mate, and I was missing it? “It’s good, right?”

Victor’s wide eyes skipped to me. “We three are married—in demon terms.”

Married. “Oh!” I beamed.

“Ugh.” Zee rolled his eyes. “I said don’t make it weird, and you go an’ make it weird.”

“Get a move on. Mr. Skrinde does not like to be kept waiting,” Shotgun Troll said, urging us on with the end of the gun.

Zee stuck up a hand. “Hold up.” He stopped our group, made sure all eyes were on him, and said, “I love you.” He pointed at me. Then at Victor. “And I love you.” Pointing at the troll, he said, “Do not love you.” With a flick of his wrist, he planted both hands on his hips. “There-fucking-fore—lemme be clear, for the emotionally stunted vampires—I am yours and you are mine, and that’s what ke-ach means.”

My heart swelled and my grin turned goofy. “You’re the best, Zee.”

Victor swallowed hard, and maybe he had a little something in his eye, making him dab at his lashes. “I uh . . . Words are failing me.”

“That’s why there is a demon word for it . . . ke-ach.”

Shotgun Troll sighed. “Are you guys done with the Hallmark moment?”

Zee fluttered his fingers. “You may proceed.” Then tilted his head and with a grin, whispered to Victor. “You don’t need to say anything, Vic.” Zee touched his own chest, over his heart. “I feel it.”

Victor nodded, maybe a little afraid his voice would fail him. It had to be tough for a vampire with a heart to go through life unloved, then to find it with two misfits like us. But he was beginning to believe it, and believe he was worthy.