Wicked Bronze Ambition

1

“Love sucks.”

“If you’re a vampire.” Strafa scattered covers as she struck, diving at the spot on the side of my neck that triggers the reflex. Just the threat of the tickle kicks me into a psycho self-defense mode.

She bounced away laughing, sat up, her eyes the color of stout flecked with gold. Fair warning! Flee, Garrett, flee! Run for your sanity!

Being a skilled observer, I observed, “You’re not wearing anything.”

“I never wear anything to bed.”

“I know. But now I’m officially taking notice.”

“Ooh! You wicked man! I see how much you’ve noticed. Is that all on my account?”

I grunted and tried pulling a sheet over me.

She laughed. “That’s why I do it.”

Yeah. So I’ll notice. So things will happen. The real devil wears nothing, extremely well.

Strafa is as close to the perfect woman as this broke-down onetime Marine can imagine. She’s beautiful. She’s always cheerful. She’s always ready, for anything. She is fun to be with. She is fun to be around. She’s even rich. What more could a man ask?

Well, a nicer band of in-laws would help.

The rich is because Strafa Algarda is the Windwalker, Furious Tide of Light, one of TunFaire’s premier sorceresses. She has these immense, terrible powers but very little interest in using them. The rest of her family, though. . Another matter. Definitely another matter. They are weird and scary people, all. And I was on the brink of being pulled in forever.

I dove, tackling her. She laughed. “Distract me all you want, but we still have to go see Grandmother.”

“I’ll keep you here all day long.”

“Braggart. I’ll let you try tomorrow. But right now. .”

Right now time was running out. And even Furious Tide of Light dared not make Shadowslinger wait, so it wasn’t long before we started the endless, too brief two-block uphill trudge to Grandma’s house.