Pretty When She Dies (Pretty When She Dies 1)

“I'm marrying him,” she reminded Roberto, wrinkling her nose.

“I know. ”

“And you're his best man friend servant thing. We shouldn't keep secrets from each other,” she declared with a bright smile. Slowly, she reached out for the mouse. As expected, Roberto took hold of her wrist and smiled at her charmingly.

“No?”

“No,” he answered. “Secrets are sometimes necessary. ”

“You are so not fun when you keep secrets. ”

“I do keep secrets, which is why I have been with him for nearly a hundred years,” Roberto said firmly, and turned off the monitor for good measure. He crossed his arms firmly across his chest and gave her a terse smile.

Looking toward the enclosed sleeping space Cian spent his days in, Samantha sighed. “A hundred years. Do you ever wish he could be out during the day?”

“Yes,” Roberto answered simply.

“So you wouldn't have to deal with me?”

“Yes. ”

“I'm not that bad!” She waved a hand at him and kicked off her shoes.

Roberto tried not to think about the probability that her shoes were from a discount store. Disgusting imitation leather. But Samantha tended to be cheap. She considered Dillards terribly expensive and he suspected most of her work clothes were from Target. He plucked at his Armani trousers, and then settled back in the chair waiting for her to retire to the kitchen.

“You're very much you and that is sufficient,” he finally answered.

With a snort, she grabbed up the bags, and padded barefoot to the state of the art kitchen. “I'm making you some enchiladas with verde sauce. ”

“Sounds amazing,” he answered.

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Me? Sarcastic?” Arching an eyebrow at her, he turned back to the screen.

She was now safely away from him among the teak wood cabinets and stainless steel of the kitchen, so it was time to get back to work. Maximizing the screen, he returned to his conversation with a bounty hunter that specialized in the supernatural. Ignoring Samantha's muttering, he typed in a few short sentences, then watched the scroll.

“You know, we're going to be in each other's lives for a long time. You're going to have to give in to my Texan charm eventually. ” She stomped across the loft and into the bathroom on the far side. It was the same old routine. He ignored her, she sulked. They were both devoted to Cian and both were sure they knew what was good for him. Of course, they did not necessarily think that the other one was good for him.

sleazydino: THERE WAS A MURDER IN DALLAS AT A MOTEL. I'M ALREADY SUSPECTING A FLEDGLING.

The bounty hunter always wrote in caps and Roberto wondered if he understood, that in Internet etiquette, it meant he was shouting. Probably not. Bounty hunters of supernatural creatures were odd humans. They were separated from their own kind and obeyed their own rules.

Roberto rubbed his chin before typing back and waited for an answer.

Sleazydino: THE MASTER OF DALLAS IS WAITING TO HEAR FROM HIS SPIES AT THE CORONER'S OFFICE BEFORE ISSUING A BLOODHUNT. BUT THE SECOND HE DOES, I'M ON IT.

“And it's not like I'm not nice to you,”

Samantha barged back into the room wearing what Roberto regarded as Austin hippy wear. A green, multi-layered skirt hung low on her hips and swung down around her knees. A tank top, adorned with Bob Marley's face, hugged her small breasts, and fell to just above her navel. Her blond hair was twisted up into two little ponytails on either side of her head. He was certain that it was very hard for the little blond firecracker to put on her corporate attire. She could never wait to get it off.

“You're very nice,” he admitted and typed in a few more sentences, then waited.

Sleazydino: I'LL CONTACT CIAN IF I HAVE TO PASS INTO HIS TERRITORY. AS FOR THE OTHER ONE, NO ONE WILL GO NEAR HIM. THERE IS NO WAY ANYONE WOULD RISK THAT HIT.

Frowning slightly, Roberto began to type, then saw Samantha on her tip toes peering down over the screen. He minimized the window and looked up at her. “Yes?”

“Do you have an online girlfriend?” She raised her eyebrows.