Page 95 of A Wolf After My Own Heart
“G’night, Oz.”
“I love that you call me by my first name.”
“Gotta raise that bar higher, Oz.”
And before he could come up with a response, she was out.
Chapter 38
She was going to kill, utterlymurderthe bastard who was playing the bongos in her brain. How did the bongos guy even getinher brain? And where’d he get bongos?
She cracked an eye open and everything was blurry except the water bottle, which glowed and seemed twice its size, like a Dasani oasis in the driest of deserts. Eight seconds later, it was an empty oasis. She lay back and pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. She could feel her heartbeat in her head, in time with the throbbing in her temples; her pulse was annoyingly loud and strong this morning. She was craving a glass of V8, but the mere thought of it made her stomach threaten a walkout.
Gah, even her soul was hungover.
She had vague memories of the movie palace andToy Storyand Oz being sweet and seeing her…
Oh, fuck. Seeing her ugly arms.
Well, so what? Her burns were nothing to be ashamed of, except for how they were definitely something to be ashamed of. A therapist from her eventful adolescence tried to point out that her scars could be considered badges of honor. She’d laughed so hard the therapist’s fixed smile vanished, never to return. It was downhill from there; she couldn’t respect a therapist she knew was an idiot. Aniceidiot, but still.
So, yeah. Oz saw them. Which changed everything, and none of it for the better. Because it wasn’t a vanity issue for her, dammit, itwasn’t. It was the fact that fun, hot, slightly loopy Oz was now going to be sympathetic, hot, boring Oz. And almost as annoying?
“She’s awake now.”
“So let’s go talk to her.”
“Mama might get mad.”
“Why?”
The hissed conversation taking place in the hallway. “Oh my Gaaaaaawd,” she groaned. “Either come in here or take your convo somewhere else, the suspense is killing me.”
She was resigned to inconvenience and constantly sniffing the air to test for fire and a return of the nightmares where she beat at imaginary flames so hard she woke herself up. But furtive whispering outside her bedroom while her temples beat “La Copa de la Vida”? That’s where she clawed the line.
“Uh. Hi?” Sally poked her head in. “Are you okay? You smell kinda bad.”
Lila could imagine. A Shifter disadvantage: the kid could smell all the stale alcohol pouring from her pores. “Matches my mood. What d’you want?”
“D’you want something to eat?”
“God, no. So, yeah.”
Sally tiptoed closer. “Mr. Berne is gonna call you and Mama Mac says there’s bacon left if you want some and are you sick? You smell sick.”
“Not surprised. About any of it.” Her phone chirped at her. “Ah. That’ll be Berne. The prophecy has been fulfilled.” She groped for her phone, almost dropped it, took the call. “Yeah?”
“And a good morning t’you as well, Ms. Kai.”
“Ugh.”
There was a bemused silence (at least, she thought it was bemused), followed by “I wanted tae stop by and see my goddaughter and get any updates. Perhaps an hour from now?”
“You want to come to my house, so you are calling me and asking to come to my house.”
“Aye. Problem?”
“Not at all. How’d you get this number?”
