Lover At Last(19)

“You’re incredible. You’re the most incredible—”

Trez let the barrage of silly words fall over him. “You, too, baby girl.”

He kissed her to make it seem like he cared—and he did, in a way. These human women he used mattered in the sense that they were living beings, worthy of respect and kindness by the simple virtue of their beating hearts. For a small while they let him use their bodies, and sometimes their veins, and he appreciated these gifts, which were always given willingly, and sometimes more than once.

And the latter was the problem that was standing over there.

Zipping up, Trez carefully maneuvered his big body around so he didn’t crush his ten-minute partner or give himself a craniotomy on the roof of the car.

Baby girl didn’t seem to want to move, however. She just lay there like a throw pillow against the seats, her legs still spread, her sex still ready, her breasts still out and about and defying gravity like two cantaloupes glued onto her rib cage.

Must be under the muscle, he thought.

“Let’s get you dressed,” he suggested, pulling the halves of her lace-up bustier together.

“You were so fantastic….”

She was like jelly—well, except for the hard-as-a-rock fake boobs—all malleable and agreeable, but utterly unhelpful as he put her back together, sat her up, and smoothed her extensions.

“This was fun, baby girl,” he murmured, and he meant it.

“Can I see you again?”

“Maybe.” He smiled at her tightly so that his fangs didn’t show. “I’m around.”

She purred like a cat at that, and then proceeded to recite her number, which he didn’t bother to memorize.

The sad truth about women like her was that they were a dime a dozen: In this city of several million, there had to be a couple hundred thousand twenty-somethings with tight asses and loose legs who were looking for a good time. In fact, they were all just variations of the same person, which was why he needed to keep them fresh.

With so much in common, a revolving door of new supply was required to keep him interested.

Trez was out of the car a minute and a half later, and he didn’t bother scrubbing her memories. As a Shadow, he had many mind tricks he could call upon, but he’d stopped bothering with that years ago. Not worth the effort—and occasionally he did like a repeat.

Quick check of the watch.

Damn it, he was already going to be late getting over to iAm’s—but he clearly had to deal with the problem by the back door before he closed up shop.

As he went over and stopped in front of the woman, she tilted her chin up and put one hand on her hip. This particular version of ready-and-willing had blond hair extensions and liked hot pants as opposed to skirts—so she looked ridiculous in the cold, with her fluffy pink Patagonia parka and her bare-ass legs in the breeze.

Kind of like a Sno Ball on two toothpicks.

“Getting busy?” she demanded. She was obviously trying to keep cool, but given the way her stiletto was tapping, she was hot and bothered—and not in a good way.

“Hey, baby girl.” He called them all that. “You having a good night?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Listen, I’ll see you around—”

The woman made the colossal mistake of grabbing his arm as he went by her, her nails sinking into his silk shirt and clamping onto his skin.

Trez’s head snapped around, his eyes flaring. But at least he managed to catch himself before he bared his fangs.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she said, leaning into him.

“Trez!” someone barked.

Abruptly, his head of security’s voice cut into his brain. And good thing. Shadows were a peaceable species by nature—provided they were not aggressed upon.

As Xhex rushed over, like she knew murder was not one hundred percent out of the realm of possibility, he ripped his arm free of that hold, feeling five blazes of pain from the woman’s nails. Locking down his fury, he stared into the woman’s face. “Go on home now.”

“You owe me an explanation—”

He shook his head. “I’m not your boyfriend, baby girl.”

“Damn straight, he know how to treat a woman!”

“So go on home to him,” Trez said grimly.

“What do you do, fuck a different girl every night of the week?”

“Yeah. And sometimes twice on Sundays.” Shit, he should have scrubbed this one. When had he been with her? Two nights ago? Three? Too late now. “Go on home to your man.”

“You make me sick! You fucking cocksucking motherfucker—”

As Xhex stepped in between them and started speaking in a low voice to the hysteric, Trez was more than happy to have the backup…because what do you know, the chick in the Nissan picked that exact moment to K-turn in the parking lot and drive right on over.