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“Part of the charm. Also, that piss you stepped in wasn’t human. MF has an ongoing rivalry with Big Foot.”
“What the devil is a Big Foot?” Maxton barked.
“Never mind. Just tell me what happened. Is MF all right?”
“She is a cantankerous, pious, judgmental, blathering human female. That is what she is.”
“So you had a disagreement. About what?” Damien asked, trying not to laugh. It was amusing to see this vampire’s manly parts in a twist over MF.
“I cannot tell you because it will void my arrangement with Cimil.”
Cimil strikes again. Why am I not surprised?Seemed the goddess was busy ruining all sorts of lives lately. “Well, say no more, then. I am on my way to see her now, if you’d like to have a word.”
“Are you going to tell her your choice?” Maxton asked.
Damien nodded.
“Very good. I will come with you and do the same.”
The doorbell rang. “What was that?” Maxton asked.
“Your snack.”
“Just in time. I was considering knocking on your neighbor’s door.”
Damien shook his head and went to get his package. “By the way, you didn’t happen to go to an amusement park last night, did you?”
“Why?” Maxton asked, looking guiltier than sin.
“The security cameras recorded someone who looks like you making out with someone who looks like MF, in front of children. Pretty sick.”
“Was not me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Driving his red convertible Mustang with the top up for Maxton—Grrrr—Damien called ahead to ensure Cimil was home to receive his reply, but Roberto said she was out.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Damien said politely, since Roberto was still technically a king. “Please tell her to call me. I will be at my shop. It is most urgent I speak to her.”
“She has been MIA all day. If you see her before I do,” Roberto grumbled, “let her know I wish to speak with her, too. I have my answer.”
Cimil had given an ultimatum to her husband, also? Interesting how everyone’s answers were due by end of day today.What is she up to?
Damien changed course and headed for Greystone and Sons to wait for Cimil to magically show up. He needed to open the store anyway. There was a long line of grumpy customers anxious to pick up their alterations.
Damien pulled into his spot at the back and parked. “Maxton, I have a dark storeroom with a cot. You can sleep there if you like. I’ll wake you when Cimil shows up.”
“Very good.” They entered, and he showed Maxton where to take his nap. Damien then flipped on the lights, turned on the soft classical music—a little Chopin—and opened up the front.
Ah, how I missed you, shop. His sanctuary. His slice of civilized, manly respite.
The front door chimed. “You won’t fucking believe what he did, Damien!” MF stormed in, wearing torn jeans, those God-awful military boots, and a frilly Victorian-style top with a high neck. Sleeves torn off.
Sanctuary no more.“MF, I presume you are here to vent about Maxton, but—”
“That lying, manipulative, fucking vampire? You bet your ass! He offered to turn me this morning. Did you know that? And here I was, Damien, thinking he was my mate, that there was some sort of divine love for me in the universe. But no. He just wanted to make Cimil happy by turning me along with a long list of other names. Can you believe that crap?”
“You thought he was your mate?” When had this happened? Why didn’t she say something? He’d almost killed Maxton.
