"Okay, fine," I huffed and tried not to grin. "Clearly they must like the metrosexual ambiguous genitalia thing the Cows have going for them."
"So is Dwayne going to marry his daughters off?" Hank asked as he bit down on his tongue to stem the hysterics threatening to escape.
"Well, if I have this right and I think I do… I believe he's going to do a contest of sorts for their hands. Kind of like a Vampyre Olympics slash Gladiator thing. Whoever is alive at the end gets a Cow."
"Is that a joke?" Hank stuttered as he sat up and gaped at me.
"I wish," I mumbled. "Dwayne has always gone for the absurd and bloody."
"Understatement," Hank said as he stretched his arms over his head pulling his t-shirt tight across his perfectly muscled chest.
I actually forgot what I was talking about for a brief moment. He was so pretty it was just wrong. I considered jumping him since we were alone, but then I remembered the rest of the story…
"And the feral Wolves followed Dwayne to Michigan."
"What?" Hank yelled as he hopped up and closed the distance between us. "The feral Wolves are in Michigan?"
"Yes. That's what Dwayne said. They haven't caused much trouble. They're staying on the outskirts of his property, but they won't leave."
"Have they gotten into it with the Vamps?" Hank asked.
"Yep, and the Wolves won. The Vamps want to kill all of them, but it's not so simple. The Cows think the Wolves mean no harm. Since the Vamps are trying to woo the Cows they've refrained from killing the Wolves."
"The fact I even followed and understood what you’re saying is frightening," Hank muttered.
"Right?" I agreed. "I can't believe I repeated it. Anyhoo, that's still not all… "
Hank turned to me and held his breath.
"Apparently the Dragons are skulking around too."
"Jesus Hesus," Hank shouted. "Is Michigan some kind of vortex for screwed-up paranormal activity?"
"Jesus Hesus really works, doesn't it?"
"It really does," he agreed with a surprised nod of his head.
"And to answer your question… I'd have to say yes," I told him. "Michigan seems to be the new armpit of magical hell."
"Fine. We do what we have to do in Chicago, and then we leave for Michigan," Hank said as he whipped open Junior's laptop and began scrolling for restaurants that delivered.
"Do you see any Mexican?" I asked, looking over his shoulder.
"Yep," he said. "Tacos?"
"Eight," I said.
Hank laughed.
"Fine," I grumbled and punched him in the shoulder. "Fourteen, and I'm not sharing so get enough for yourself, Junior, and Dima."
"Do Dragons eat Mexican?" Hank wondered out loud.
"Dude, they eat people. Mexican is a vast improvement over people."
"Good point," Hank agreed.
"How long do you think they'll be?" I asked.
"An hour—two hours, tops. Depends if the Council keeps them waiting."
"Will they be okay?" I asked, now more worried because it was our fault Dima couldn't shift.
After what I'd done to Angela I was beginning to question my judgment.
"Junior can kill almost anything and Dima took back all of her weapons and then some," he said.
"Holy shit," I stammered. "I didn't even see her. Did you?"
"Yep. I saw her. She was fast and she was good."
"I don't like her pulling one over on me, but I'm wildly relieved she can defend herself if she needs to," I said as I dug into my suitcase for something clean to wear. My clothing had gotten fairly destroyed during our visit to the zoo. "Dress or pants?"
"Dress. No panties," Hank said as he emailed our massive food order.
"Pervert," I said with a grin.
"Guilty," he answered with an unapologetic leer as he smacked my bottom.
I curled up on his lap and laid my head on his strong shoulder. The feeling of being loved would get me through all the crap that lay ahead. Hank was my rock and I was his. I had no clue how I got so lucky, but I was just grateful for my good fortune—very grateful.
***
"God damn, these tacos are good," Junior grunted as he shoved taco number ten down his throat.
"They are pretty awesome," Dima said as she shoved her own number seven down hers.
"Okay," I said with a mouthful. "We are all in agreement about the delicious cheap Mexican food. We need to get down to business."
"Do I need to call out for more?" Hank asked as he hoarded the remainder of tacos.
"I have to be out of town in an hour or my ass is grass," Junior said as he tackled his brother for his tacos. "Can they deliver fast?"
"Yep," Hank said as he backhanded Junior and threw him across the room. "They can be here in fifteen. How many you want?"
"I could probably eat about twenty more," Junior huffed as he got up and took a running dive at Hank.
"If you break the computer there will be no more tacos," Hank informed his brother with a precise punch to his head.
"What? Your phone doesn't work?" Junior grunted as he put Hank in a chokehold.
"Oh my god, you two. Stop it now. This house belongs to Dwayne and he will be pissed if you destroy all of his furniture," I yelled.