FANGED

Chapter Fifteen

That got my full attention. Jerking my head up from its food induced stupor, I turned wide eyes towards Drake who continued to hold up the sink with his sexy bod.

"A threat?" I squeaked.

He looked up and stared at me with a piercing gaze. "Yes," he sighed. Turning away from me, he tossed the kitchen towel up on the counter. "Come into the living room, we need to talk. Do you want more wine or coffee?"

"Why? Is this going to be my last meal or something?" I asked in a huff, crossing my arms across my chest. My attempt at humor fell flat. There was nothing funny going on here. I very much doubt there were any hidden cameras around, but even so...I did a quick scan of the environ just to make sure Ashton Kutcher wasn't lying in weight somewhere. I was in no mood to be Punked.

"Don't be ridiculous, Red."

"Oh...excuse me. The last thing I want to be is unreasonable." I slipped off the stool and grabbed the opened bottle off the counter along with my goldfish goblet. Flicking my hair over my shoulder, I did the Barbie stomp into the living room.

Plopping down on the white sofa, I topped off my half gallon glass. Taking a healthy swig to settle my nerves, I looked around. White sofa, white deep shag rug...lots of glass and chrome...it was very hoity-toity for a vampire lair. I sniffed. You'd think they'd be a little more Blade Runner and a lot less Stepford Wives.

Fang finally moseyed into the living room and eased himself down on the sofa next to me. I rolled my eyes at the graceful way he positioned himself. Figures the man wouldn't do your typical flop and "man spread". I snorted. The least he could do, was pull an Al Bundy and stick his hand down his pants.

The manila envelope he had pulled out earlier, he set on the glass top of the chrome coffee table. The thing was positively spotless. I had a sudden childish desire to lick the glass and leave smudgy fingerprints everywhere.

"May I?" He indicated the bottle.

I shrugged. "It's your booze."

Shaking his head, he picked up the bottle with his long fingered hands and filled the glass. The fact he didn't spill a drop, pissed me off even more. "You can lose some of the hostility, Red."

"Isn't that what a threat is supposed to do? Be hostile?" I snapped. "And seriously, dude...I'm not the one who blew up your house. So, I would definitely rethink the whole who's a threat scenario in this equation."

Bringing the glass to his lips, he looked at me over the rim for a few second before he took a sip. "The demise of your house was unavoidable, as you well know," he said, setting his wine on the table and picking up the mysterious envelope.

"I'm sure they said the same thing when the government accidently bombed Dickens, Nebraska," I muttered under my breath, remembering the story I had read on-line.

The little town was set in-between two practice bombing ranges in 1943 and was mistakenly targeted during two military practice bombing runs by flight crews. That was one hell of a whoopsie. At least the government apologized. All I get from Fang is his too bad, so sad...crap.

"Excuse me?" Fang stopped flipping through the papers to raise his icicle eyes at me.

I resisted rolling mine...barely. For such a fanged fossil, I'm surprised he wasn't flying the plane that did the actual deed. It would certainly explain his predilection to blowing things up.

"Never mind," I said grumpily. "Can we just get on with it?" My apprehension was making me edgy and irritable and sitting next to him wasn't helping the situation.

"Very well, have it your way." He smiled at me with absolutely no humor.

My hands shook, making the wine slosh a little in my glass. Not wanting him to notice my nervousness, I brought it to my mouth and took a gulp.