The Fangover (The Fangover 1)

“What Wyatt and I do isn’t really any of your business,” she told him as gently as she could.

“I thought I was special,” Benny said glumly, hands on hips above his orange Speedo.

If he asked what Wyatt had that he didn’t have, Stella was going to walk out. “Wyatt and I have known each other for a long time, Benny. He was really good friends with my brother and my brother just committed suicide.”

“Holy shit, that sucks. I’m sorry, Stella. That’s awful.”

It was. Stella’s throat tightened and she was digging her fingers into her palms. “Thanks.”

“So, he’s like comforting you? Okay, I get that. I nailed my girlfriend after my dad’s funeral. Made me feel alive, you know?”

Actually, she did know. The way Benny put it was a little crude, but there was totally truth to it. It was why she’d unzipped Wyatt the other night. “I definitely understand. It’s really hard to lose someone.”

“Dude.” Benny held his fist out for Wyatt to knuckle bump and to her surprise Wyatt did. “Take care of her, you know what I’m saying? Stella’s a cool chick.”

“I will, thanks, man.”

Now that they had worked out their little man issue, Stella felt superfluous. If they started back thumping and one shoulder hugging she was going to throw up in her mouth. Thankfully that didn’t happen.

“I’m heading to work now,” Benny said. “If you ever need anything, let me know. You know where to find me. If you ever get thirsty just look me up. Anytime, my goddess.”

Again with the goddess thing. She didn’t think she liked it. It made her feel ridiculous. “Thanks, Benny, I will. I appreciate it.”

Benny looked reluctant to leave, his little mortal heart still bruised, but she figured in the end it was better that he’d seen her kissing Wyatt. There hadn’t been time for him to really get attached.

“Thanks for looking out for Stella,” Wyatt added.

It seemed to be enough to send Benny out the door. With a final look of longing and a wave, he left Wyatt’s apartment.

Stella sighed. “Geez. What a night. I’m exhausted.” She dropped down onto the sofa. Wyatt had a shotgun apartment on a quiet street. Well, quiet for the Quarter anyway. The front of the little yellow house was flush against the sidewalk, and closed up with shutters. The living room spilled into the kitchen, which led to the bedroom. Beyond that was a courtyard, but she’d been out there only once, when Wyatt had thrown a party. He was much tidier than Johnny had been, with a wide array of electronics and a cool collection of black-and-white photos hung on the wall. It was comfortable to be sitting there with him, away from the chaos of Johnny’s death and waking up with no clue as to what was going on.

“You probably need to feed.” Wyatt moved into his kitchen. “I think we were all drugged, which means we’ve got to be dehydrated, despite your little nip on Benny. And me.”

Stella sat straight up, peering over her shoulder as he went into the refrigerator. “So you seriously think we were drugged?”

“How else would we all black out?”

He’d mentioned that earlier, but she’d been so focused on Benny and the news about Johnny’s apartment being torn up, that she hadn’t really thought the implications through. “I don’t know. But who would want to drug us? And why?” In his lifetime, Johnny had irritated a person or two, but Stella didn’t see how that could be relevant to any of this.

Wyatt came back with two blood-filled wineglasses. Stella’s mouth watered. She was hungry. Gratefully, she accepted one and took a drink. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as taking a sip from Wyatt’s hip but she clearly needed it. Instantly her head felt a little clearer. “Oh, that’s good, thanks.”

“I just can’t think of any other explanation. Something weird is going on.” Wyatt sat down next to her.

Stella was acutely aware of his presence. “So what should we do?” This wasn’t her thing. Her thing was organizing the band. Making sure they were on time and well fed. She was a vampiric den mother. Not a detective.

“We need to ask around. See what the hell went down last night. Then go back to Johnny’s. I wasn’t looking for anything but you when I was there before, so maybe you’ll notice something that will clue us in.”

The whole thing made Stella’s head spin. “Until two days ago, nothing seemed abnormal at all. Now I feel like my world has imploded. This is just crazy. Like I can’t even process it.” She set her glass down on the coffee table, aware that her hand was shaking a little. Maybe she sounded a little hysterical but she avoided conflict. She normally acted as the mediator, and even that was never huge drama. Drama made her itch, and vampire politics made her sick.

“It’s okay.” Wyatt set his glass down, too, and took her hand.

The words were starting to sound familiar coming from his lips. He’d been there for her since they had found Johnny on the floor in an ash pile. And she’d yelled at him at the wake, which was really sucky of her.

“Hey, I’m sorry about being a bitch at the wake. You’ve been really sweet about everything and I just lost it on you.”

Wyatt shook his head. “Nah, it’s cool. That was totally bad timing of me. It wasn’t the place to bring up the fact that I dig you.”

He dug her. He was sticking by that statement. Wow. She wasn’t sure what to say. Stella looked at Wyatt reflectively.

Damn, he was good-looking. She had always thought he was, but she’d managed to ignore it. It was impossible to do that when he was sitting a foot away from her on his couch looking compassionate and strong. Had his hair always been that perfect caramel color, like the sun had kissed the brown tips? Which was, of course, impossible since he was never in the sun. So it was all natural. All him. All gorgeous. She wanted to run her fingers through it while he went down on her.

The sudden turn of her thoughts shocked her, and she went for her glass again so she didn’t have to look at him. “I don’t know why. I’m a total nag.” Johnny told her that on a regular basis. Or he had told her that.

“That’s true.”

Stella gawked at him. “What?” She had expected him to deny it. Or had wanted him to deny it, anyway. Of course, that’s what she got for dangling a hook like that. A tin can instead of a fish. The truth instead of smoke blown up her ass. There was something to be said for a man who wouldn’t lie to her.