Page 6 of Phantom’s Mate

Drinking margaritas with a bad boy who was probably an agent of Satan.

Chapter 4

Nick dropped his drink. For a minute all he could see was lush curves and sexy underwear and holy hell she was beautiful. Like, so amazingly beautiful it was a punch in the gut.

And he’d just stripped her almost-naked. Shit.

Her eyes were the size of saucers, mouth open. She looked down at herself, then back at him. “What is wrong with you?” she yelped.

And in a nanosecond, the Kraken was back. Dry this time, and with those same spitfire eyes looking out of it that had drawn him in the first time.

“What—the—actual—fuck?” she was yelling, beating on him with her tentacle. The one with the ship attached to it, so it hurt. “You undressed me! Didn’t you ever hear of asking? Or consent?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he managed to get out, trying to fend off her blows. “I thought you’d have somethong—” Fuck. “I mean, something on under it, for fuck’s sake.”

She smacked him with her ship again. Two tiny sailors fell off. “You are definitely no angel.”

“You seriously ever thought I was?”

“Well, no. Partly because of the murdery stuff. But mostly because of the package.”

“Excuse me?” She couldn’t mean what he thought she meant.

But she did. “I couldn’t help noticing it,” she said, arranging her tentacles with a flounce. She fucking flounced. “Your crotch was right in front of me.”

He didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed. Or amused. Luckily, he was used to people with no filters. Just call them the Wild Blood Crew. “Wouldn’t angels, as heavenly beings, have heavenly packages?”

“They don’t have any packages at all. Ken dolls.” She made a downward motion near her crotch with her palm, indicating a completely smooth surface.

Nick winced. “I’m not going to ask how you know that.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Everybody knows that.”

This woman was crazy. But in spite of that—or maybe because of it—he liked her. A lot, actually.

And she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He was lucky she wasn’t eye-to-balls with his package right now, or she’d see what that glimpse of her in her underwear had done to his non-angelic dick.

He couldn’t remember ever being so drawn to any woman at first sight.

Brittany asked, “Can we continue our conversation now, without anyone having their clothes removed?”

“I wasn’t planning on getting naked.” He gave her a sidelong look. “Unless you want me to.”

She glared at him. “I’m not giving you another margarita unless you agree to behave.”

He held up his hands, trying not to grin. “I’ll be good. Because I think I’m going to need another drink before we’re done here.”

In fact, he was sure of it.

She conjured another drink and gave it to him.

“Okay,” she said. “First off, why the fuck is it still Halloween? All. The. Time?” She gestured around. “I mean, time passes. It’s wonky—sometimes I’d swear only a couple of days have gone by, but then there’s new flowers at the accident site that look like they’ve been dead for weeks—but it does pass. Only, somehow nothing else ever changes.”

“I’m assuming it was Halloween when you died?” He gestured at the Kraken.

She snorted. “No, why? This is my typical office wear.”

He ignored the sarcasm; she was entitled. “And this was the weather that night.”