Patsy punched him in the arm. “Shut up.” She looked at me. “Karn wants you for the same reason that we do.”
“Which is what?” I asked.
“I’m losing circulation in my arms,” interjected Dove. “In case anyone cares.”
Actually, I was getting the tingles in my arms, too. I bet I looked like a hit-and-run victim. Dove didn’t look any better, either.
Patsy waddled toward Dove. Drake leaned over my chair to untie the ropes around my wrists, which he did by breaking them with his bare hands. Wow. Also, he smelled really, really good.
And his hair was damp, as though he’d just taken a shower.
“You are a what, aren’t you?” I asked when he straightened.
“I’m a werewolf,” he said. He crouched next to me, took my arms and rubbed gently, probably trying to get the circulation going again while offering comfort. But his touch was far from comforting . . . it was electrifying.
“You are a remarkable woman, Dr. Jameson.” His thumbs brushed the crooks of my arms, and I huffed out a little breath of shock. Who knew the bends of my arms were such sensitive spots? He offered me a smoky smile, one that sent my stomach into a mambo dance. “I look forward to knowing you better.”
“I haven’t agreed to accept your protection,” I said, even though they’d made it clear that Dove and I didn’t have a choice. But I could bluster if I wanted to, damn it.
Drake’s grin only widened. He rose and offered his hand. I took it and managed to get to my feet without tipping over. He held my hand until I felt steady enough—and then he held it a moment longer, his fingers squeezing mine right before he let go.
“Well, you might agree to that, and more, when you hear this,” said Patsy. She paused as Dove tiptoed up next to her. We all looked at her red calf-length lace-up ballet boots. In order to wear them, you had to walk on your toes.
“Those are some fucked-up shoes,” said Patsy. “Are you trying to cripple yourself?”
“Yes,” said Dove deadpan. “That’s my plan exactly.”
Patsy snorted. Then she turned toward me again. “You found a crypt in the desert recently. Empty, but maybe some strange stuff on the walls?”
“And we found vampire ushabtis,” said Dove.
Patsy stared at her blankly.
“Little bitty statues,” said Dove.
“Oh.”
“So?” Hey, why not cooperate? I was crazy, dreaming, or had fallen down a rabbit hole. Vampires. Werewolves. Mermaids. Ghosts. I was trapped in a world that shouldn’t exist.
“It’s not exactly what happened, but we have to wait for Eva to undo her work. Only the vampire who glamoured you can . . . er, un-glamour you.
“You glamoured us?” accused Dove. “When?”
“Last week,” said Patsy distractedly. “Drake said you stuck your hand in some kind of lock in the door?”
“I did what?” I asked.
“Oh, right. The glamour thing. Shit.” She tapped her lip, pondering me. “Your blood opened it. And we’ve been in touch with various sources, including the Vedere psychics. They do not know how to give a straight answer. Anyway, we think you’re the chosen. And you’ll open the pyramid when it reappears tomorrow.”
“What?” I asked blankly.
Patsy shared a look with Drake, then turned her gaze to me. “You’re the key to opening a magical pyramid,” she said. “And saving the vampire race.”
Chapter 12
“Are you high?” asked Dove suspiciously. She squinted at Patsy. “Because that’s cray-cray.”
“What the fuck is cray-cray?” asked Patsy. She returned Dove’s narrow-eyed look. “Are you high?”
“Patsy.”
The tone indicated exasperation of a spousal nature. A man as tall and broad and gorgeous as Drake entered our conversational circle. He was the opposite of Drake in coloring, though, his hair just as long, but moon white and worn loose.
“If you give me the wait-where-it’s-safe speech, I will hurt you,” she said.
“Why would I do that?” He leaned down and kissed her head, then drew her into his embrace. “No sign of Karn. However, his friends did not survive our light bomb.”
“Those two assholes are dust?” asked Dove.
The man’s golden gaze dropped down to Dove, and he studied her shoes for a moment before looking at her. “Yes.”
“Good. They were jerks.”
“Unfortunately, they are two of many jerks that Karn has enlisted to his cause,” said the man. “You are Dove. And you”—he turned to me—“are Dr. Moira Jameson.”