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Her long brown hair was matted with blood and twigs. Her arms were muddy and scratched.
Her eyes met his, and something in her gaze put him on edge. Probably because he’d just watched her slice up thirty people like a food processor chops carrots.
“Hello. I thought you might want this.” He handed her his white robe. He, on the other hand, was still in his chewed-up boxers.
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
It wasn’t uncommon for weres and shifters to be nudists. Saved money since they could blow through a lot of outfits. “You’re covered in your last meal and sitting on my furniture. Take it. I will return in just a moment.”
Damien needed to ensure Amelia and Miguel left before he spoke with this woman.
He quickly found the two with their luggage, standing by the front door. “Thank you again for understanding.”
Amelia’s eyes focused on his shorts. She’d already seen him wearing them, but likely didn’t approve of him being so underdressed in front of her teenage son.
“My apologies,” he said. “I was just about to bathe and realized you were already out the door. I wanted to wish you both the best of luck.”
“Is that woman going to be all right?” Amelia asked.
He knew she was a family lawyer. Amelia probably came across all sorts of sad situations when it came to abuse and such. “Yes. She is…my neighbor,” he lied. “She locked herself out of her house while skinny-dipping in her pool.”
“But she was all scratched up.”
“She was too embarrassed to walk on the street, for obvious reasons. She jumped over our fence and landed in some bushes. I promise, she is fine. I got her a robe and called a locksmith already.”
Amelia eyed him suspiciously. “Well, I hope she leaves before your jealous fiancée arrives.”
Damien almost forgot. “Oh, yes. Must clear out all the females. Cannot anger my little cupcake.” He looked at Miguel. “Your wounds are looking much better,” he lied. Miguel still looked black and blue.
“Thanks.”
“Take care of your mother.” Damien opened the front door and watched the two leave.
Once the door closed, Pet came out of hiding. “You are a bad, bad man, Damien Greystone!”
“Sky, I do not have time to explain.”
Oh, you should, tailor. You should explain how you wanted to fuck her sister and kill her, too. Because I want to watch that conversation go down.
“That was me talking,” said Pet. “Sky isn’t speaking to you right now. How could you kick out her sister and nephew? Oh look! More scotch.” Pet pointed to his liquor cabinet in the living room.
Damien shook his head, feeling the anger well inside him. “Do not touch…”
It was too late. Pet had a bottle and flittered off to the kitchen.
“You have a sex fairy living with you?” asked the were-eagle, now dressed in his white robe and sitting back on his couch.
“No. She is an unwanted guest. What are you doing here?”
“Why don’t you start with who you are and what you were doing at that event?”
“I am…Damien Greystone.” Damien did not know how much detail to offer. Less was generally better. “A friend of mine asked me to look into the disappearance of several immortals and creatures.” Not exactly true, but close enough.
“So you’re a detective?”
“No. Just a man who owed a favor. So what do I call you?”
“Elenore.”
