Page 3 of Forked Tongues Are Fun
Sitting between them was like witnessing a ping-pong match from hell. I squirmed in my chair at the onslaught of bare skin, penetrating gazes, and enough body heat that it thickened the air, cemented my lungs, made it hard to breathe.
“You can’t change my mind about sucking jokes, dude.” Tavis shifted and nudged my foot underneath the table, shooting off a hum through my veins. “Oh, sorry.”
My head spun. The two figures sitting next to me swam closer in hard, pulsing waves without even really touching me. Warmth spread between my thighs with an answering throb powerful enough to summon me into both of their laps. I gripped the table edge tight. Something was happening here...
“Enough,” a voice hidden in the living room’s shadows warned. It shot through the air like dragon fire.
A third voice. Athirddragon shifter?
Were they climbing up through the carpet? How many more of them were here? With three shifters, this would be three times as hard to get the key out. Still, even if there were fifty shifters in this house, it didn’t change a damn thing. The full-moon ritual wastonight.
“She was practically melting on the porch,” the third voice said. “Tavis, get her some water.”
The third shifter... Was he the one who’d been spying on me from the shadows of the living room while I stood outside? Likely so.
Tavis rose out of his seat, towering over me, a curious lift to his eyebrows. “I can’t wait to hear about this...vacuum. Don’t start without me.” He crossed to the cupboards, his blue dragon tattoo shifting and winding as he moved.
My stomach tightened, and I ran my slick hands down my skirt. Why had Tavis hesitated? Did they know I wasn’t really here about vacuums? I had a funny feeling I’d just failed some kind of test. This whole experience so far had balled up my confidence into a fraction of what it had been. But I wasn’t going to give up until I was charred dragon food.
The full-moon ritual’s location had supposedly been broadcast to his tattoo, and all other dragon shifters’ tattoos, before the location magic had been separated into hard-to-trace parts and hidden away. All I saw was a complex tattoo, though, not like a map of streets or anything. I wished I could just outright ask these guys where the ritual was, but they were already clearly suspicious.
I turned full saleswoman on Calhoun, who eyed me with a skeptical twist on his lips. “Isbon has a number of different products for all your vacuuming needs. About how many square feet is your home?” Translation—was there a basement and was that where the treasure trove was? From the outside of the house, it was impossible to tell. But I bet that was where the key was.
Calhoun brushed a lock of dark silky hair off his face. “How much does Isbon pay you to go door-to-door?”
I had to force myself not to crush my molars together in irritation. I wasn’t in the mood for such fancy dancing around all my questions.
Pretending serenity, I shrugged. “They pay more than fairly. I’m proud to work for such a well-respected company that treats their employees so well.”
Tavis crossed to the table and set a glass of water in front of me, the ice cubes clinking against the side the only sound in the entire house. “What did you say your name was again?”
Why did it feel like I was in an inquisition? “Rose. Rose Witt,” I said. Sweat beaded across my upper lip, and I took a drink of water, using the glass to hide any evidence of guilt on my face. It was a little too late for the old adage ‘never let them see you sweat,’ though.
“Huh,” he said as he sank down next to me, pinning those brilliant blue eyes on my face. “Do you know anyone named Mack?”
Calhoun stiffened. “Are you fucking kidding me, Tavis?”
A sound came from the darkened living room, a mix between a growl and a frustrated exhale.
Tavis threw up his hands. “What? You can’t tell me you weren’t wondering.”
“Now Rose Witt is too,” the third voice said.
Wondering what they’d all been smoking, maybe. How long had they been in this house, and was it long enough for them to go mad-dragon? That would be just my luck. Three dragon shifters, not one, and all of them completely bonkers.
“I don’t know anyone named Mack,” I assured them.
“Mack is just someone we’re waiting for, is all,” Tavis said.
“Okay, you know what?” Calhoun reached behind me and smacked him in the back of the head, a dangerous scowl on his face. “No more words for you. You’ve reached your max.”
Tavis shrugged, not seeming to care one bit that he’d pissed off Calhoun. “Now we know.”
A low rumble sounded from the living room, then a burst of flaming light just as blinding as the dark, and a puff of smoke enveloped Tavis. Just him, not me, even though I was sitting right next to him. A coughing fit seized him, and he raised both middle fingers, one aimed at Calhoun and the other aimed at the shadow dragon who’d just breathed fire at him.
This was my life right now. Fuck me for putting myself in this situation.
“Anyway.” I steeled my back and vowed to fake my way out of here until Imademy way out of here. “So”—I laid my clipboard on the table with a crack to signal it was time to get down to business—”yes or no, are you happy with the vacuum you currently have?”
