Page 155 of The Hunt
My gaze landed on my partially opened bedroom door, and I growled in frustration. It had been closed when I’d gone to bed, just as the window had.
With one last cleansing inhale, I hurried across my room and slipped into the hallway. The scent was even stronger there. Faint sexual groans and high-pitched laughing filled my ears, drawing my watering gaze to the light emanating from the game room.
For a moment, I wavered. I could return to my room, shut the door, and go back to sleep with the window open. Or, I could be responsible and march into the game room and stop whatever activities had the house reeking of brownie lust. I desperately wanted to remain ignorant of what was going on but knew, if I didn’t put my foot down, Piepen would only see that as an invitation to continue these horrible invasions.
The need for air motivated me. I hurried forward, nudged the door open, and froze. It took a moment for what I was seeing to register.
Two brownies hovered in the air above the couch. They wore cowboy boots and western hats and nothing else. Arm in arm, they hooted and swirled in the air while they frantically tugged on their tiny toothpicks to the sounds emanating from the porn that played out on the television.
Sparkles burst from the new brownie and rained down on the already shiny cushions beneath them. Oanen’s gaming couch. The one he’d slept on with Megan the night he asked her to be his girlfriend.
I was going to kill Piepen.
“This was your best idea yet, Piepen,” the creature squeaked.
Piepen didn’t respond. He was too busy tugging on himself. He squealed, and his wings stopped a second before he sparkled profusely.
“We should be safe here, Wetwhistle,” Piepen panted, his wings fluttering to life again. His gaze went to the television, and his hand returned to his tiny twig.
“You are far from safe here, brownie,” I said. “My forgiveness is at an end.”
Piepen’s head whipped toward me, his gaze already filling with adoration.
“There’s my little lady!” He flew at me and stopped at the last moment without me needing to warn him. “I’d like to give you a hug. Are you in the mood for one?”
“I’m in the mood for your blood.”
“She doesn’t sound much different than Dewy,” Wetwhistle said, his eyes locked on the screen and his hand locked on his happy stick. “But, at least this one isn’t demanding your wings.”
My eyes narrowed on the little man, and Piepen quickly flitted to the side so I was staring at his naked backside.
“Eliana is better than Dewy in every way. Disrespect her, and you and I are going to have words.”
The complete ridiculousness of the situation calmed some of my anger.
“No touching yourself in my presence,” I said on my way to the windows. The fresh air was a slight relief.
After a calming breath of it, I turned and found both brownies watching me. Wetwhistle’s hands were on his hips in a bold power pose that made me gaggy. Piepen had taken his hat off and held it in his hands. Whether intentional or not, it was hiding his bits, for which I was grateful.
“Start explaining,” I said.
“I asked questions like the wolf suggested. The baby isn’t mine. Madeline confirmed that Dewy would have had to have been pregnant before I met her in order to give birth to a healthy baby when she did. But when I confronted Dewy, she wouldn’t admit the baby isn’t mine. Instead, she got angry and started accusing me of being a piece of flit dad.”
Piepen looked down at his hands for a moment before earnestly meeting my gaze.
“I swear on my life that I will be the best possible father to our children.”
Wetwhistle smothered a laugh with his hand. Piepen flushed, but he didn’t look away from me.
“Whatever it takes,” he promised solemnly.
“Piepen, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not pregnant.”
“You man-stealing sex leech!”
My eyes rounded, and I turned my head toward the source of the ear-piercing shriek of rage. A round ball flew toward me at a frightening speed. Instinctively, my vision sharpened, bringing the projectile into focus so I recognized it was a female brownie flying at me from the window I’d just opened. Her small red face was twisted in an angry snarl as she pulled back her arm. Her tiny palm struck my cheek with all the force of a flicked pea.
I plucked her from the air before she could try anything else. Without the use of her wings, she swung at me and snarled insults.
