Page 15 of The Wayward Sons & the Seattle Sirens

“Do you know what time it is?” I demanded.

“I…” Gray sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His expression was unsteady while he glanced around the empty parking lot. “I’m guessin’ early.”

“Yeah,” I said. “What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t… I just…” He scrubbed his face, sagging against the car for support. He looked worse for wear and… was he shimmering? Oh, Jesus fuck, the man had pink glitter stuck in his hair.

“How much did you drink, Gray?” I asked because him blacking out drunk was the only reasonable explanation.

“I don’t think I drank anythin’!” he exclaimed. “I remember buyin’ a fuckin’ drink, but I can’t remember fuckin’ drinkin’ it.”

That was a red flag.

“What do you remember?”

“I remember them makin’ me hand over my phone like a goddamn coat check,” Gray told me. His words ignited a frenzy as he searched for his phone—patting down his pants, his jacket, and even digging through the seat before finding it on the floor. “Fuckin’ hell. I don’t… I don’t know why that’s there.”

“Jesus Christ, Gray.” I sighed heavily. “Think hard. How much did you have to drink?”

“I don’t… remember.”

“Fuck! You can’t drink until you blackout while you’re hunting! What if something happened? You got fucking lucky!”

“Don’t you fuckin’ give me that look,” Gray snapped. He tossed his jacket angrily into the car and slammed the door. “I’m a damn good hunter! You know that! You know I ain’t fuckin’ stupid enough to get drunk while huntin’.”

The problem was I did know that. Gray liked to have fun, but he was smart about it. And I may have said the words, but I had a hard time believing that he’d drink that much—especially around a demon.

“Okay, okay,” I said. “What else do you remember?”

“I remember checkin’ in my shit and feelin’ real fuckin’ weird about it,” he replied. Understandable. I didn’t like that thought at all. It left him vulnerable. His confusion bled over my skin as his brows knit together tightly. “I don’t fuckin’ know, baby. I went in, and it was… fuck, the place is goddamn huge. I remember that. I remember goin’ to the bar to get a drink. It was fuckin’ empty compared to the rest of the place. I had no intention of fuckin’ drinkin’, you know? Just keep it close and blend in, right? And then there’s… I don’t… I think there was… Journey?”

“The band?” I frowned.

“I don’t… maybe. Fuck.” The distress that vibrated through his body made my chest tighten. “I don’t fuckin’ know, Ryder. I don’t… I can’t remember a goddamn thing that happened. I don’t… fuck. I don’t got a clue what happened, baby.”

He really didn’t have a fucking clue. Which didn’t bode well for hunting this damn siren. But one thing at a time. His building frustration and anxiety was too much for me to overlook. I needed to get him back to the motel.

“It’s okay,” I said quietly. I went to guide him around the side of the car, but he leaned forward and buried his face in the curve of my neck. Instantly, I hugged him, holding on tight.

“I fucked up, baby,” Gray muttered. “Don’t know how, but I fucked up.”

“You didn’t,” I assured him. “But I think we underestimated the siren.”

“You bet your sexy fuckin’ ass we did.”

“Let’s just get you back to the motel,” I whispered. Very rarely were the roles reversed between us. “Let me take care of you, Gray.”

CHAPTER 12

There’s glitter on my fuckin’ dick!” I exclaimed, my voice rising a notch. I stared down at myself in the shower. Pink glitter stuck to my dick—really stuck to every fucking part of me. “Why the fuck is there glitter on my dick?”

In the other room, I heard Ryder laugh. An honest-to-God, deep, and real laugh. The fucker. While I loved his real laugh and rarely got to hear it, him laughing at my expense did nothing for my fucking mood. Throwing open the shower curtain, I stormed out of the bathroom to glare at him.

“There’s fuckin’ glitter on my dick, baby!” I raged. I gestured to my dick. “Glitter! The fuckin’ herpes of goddamn craft supplies! I ain’t ever gettin’ rid of it! I look like that sparkly fuckin’ vampire!”

“Who?” Ryder asked.

“The fuckin’ vampire!” I reiterated, losing my steam as he shrugged again. “You know… the sparkly teenage creepy one?”

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