The Crystal Warrior

The Crystal Warrior (Chapter 12)

The Crystal Warrior

By Maree Anderson

Chapter Twelve

Chalcey wandered from Sam's guest room and nearly bit off her tongue when she spotted Sam's surprise guest lounging full-length on a couch, flicking through TV channels. She'd have been tempted to make her excuses, and grab Wulf and hustle him out the door, if she hadn't been so concerned about Sam. Of all the guys she must have had to choose from last night, did it have to be this one? Was Sam freaking insane? It was enough to give a girl chronic indigestion before a single morsel of food passed her lips.

"Samantha," Wulf said. "May I have a private word with you?"

His tone was so polite and carefully neutral that Chalcey shivered. Uh oh. She sank into the nearest seat at the kitchen table. She didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know that Wulf, too, was majorly unimpressed by Sam's choice.

The man of the moment finally seemed to notice Sam had other company. "Well well. If it isn't tits on a stick. Whassup, Chel-sea?" He tossed the remote on the floor, rolled off the couch, and slimed over to the table, choosing to plunk his jerk-off ass into the chair opposite. He tossed Chalcey an ingratiating smile, like he hadn't just insulted her, and expected her to be thrilled to bits he'd remembered her name, even if he didn't pronounce it right. He chose to ignore Wulf. Probably the only smart thing he'd done lately.

Chalcey made a noncommittal noise and closed her eyes to send a brief prayer for a happy ending to this god-awful farce. She blamed herself. She shouldn't have played down her encounter with Ray. She should have told her best friend exactly what had happened, and how scared she'd been. Surely then Sam would have been a heap more choosy.

Shit. What a mess. It'd be a miracle if this breakfast ended without somebody doing bodily harm to somebody else.

"Samantha," Wulf said, an edge to his tone conveying that he was just the teensiest bit pissed.

Sam wouldn't meet his gaze. "Later, okay, Wulf? I'm a bit tied up at the moment."

Sam's usual practiced nonchalance when it came to casual encounters of the sexual kind was an epic fail. All Chalcey saw spread across Sam's face was guilt and self-loathing. She would give Sam eleven-out-of-ten for her attempt at Happy Homemaker, though. She'd donned a frilly apron over that ass-skimming silk robe from last night, and taken a staggering amount of food from the refrigerator. Now she was frying up bacon, eggs and hash browns, and studiously ignoring the elephant in the room.

Poor Sam. She'd really screwed up this time. Chalcey had half-expected she would try to excise Marcus from her life by using the most convenient hot-looking guy available. She hadn't expected the aforementioned hot-looking guy to be Ray. Worse, Sam didn't look at all thrilled about how her night had gone, either. He must have been a real jerk.

Ray chose that moment to leer at Chalcey. He compounded his crimes by glaring at Wulf as though he'd like to spear him with his fork, sneaking supposedly covert glances at Chalcey's cleavage, and ogling Sam's ass.

If Chalcey hadn't been so completely certain that the shit was going to hit the fan, she might have found his antics more amusing. Well, that and the fact she was freaking out at the thought of a knife-wielding scumbag having anything at all to do with her best friend, let alone spending the night. Her throat was so tight, it was all she could do to choke down her orange juice. Please God, Wulf would refrain from doing something drastic. Like hauling a certain waste of oxygen onto the balcony and tossing him over the railing.

Wulf, however, seemed content to let the matter slide—perhaps for Sam's sake. Whatever the reason, Chalcey finally allowed herself to relax. Wulf was more than capable of dealing with whatever Ray dished out.