The Lying, the Witch, and the Werewolf (Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Book 4) Kate Quinn (read this if txt) 📖

“Um no,” I respond, genuinely offended on Seamus’s behalf. “Seamus is a super nice guy.”

“Bullshit,” Nico shoots back, and I realize the blonde hair is pretty much the only thing about him that has changed. Those glittering eyes, that mouth that twitches when he’s upset. Yep. His temper is going to out him before Cassie does, if he’s not careful. “Satyrs only care about getting drunk and getting laid. He might’ve shown you a good time and pretended it was special, but trust me, you’re nothing but another notch on his bedpost.”

“We don’t have beds, we have cots,” I snap back. “And you’ll be surprised to learn that he didn’t even put a hand on me.” I grab Nico’s arm and pull him toward my yurt. “Forget Seamus, what the hell are you doing here?”

Shaking free of me, Nico walks into my yurt and tilting his head back, sniffs the air. “Doesn’t smell like sex in here,” he observes. “Just sweat and alcohol.” Then, making himself at home, he flops down on my cot.

I really do not need a mostly naked Nico in my room and on my bed, so I busy myself straightening my clothes back into my suitcase. Nico meanwhile grins at me with satisfaction oozing from every inch of his underdressed body. “You haven’t hooked up with anybody, have you?”

“I’m working,” I remind him. “Speaking of which, what are you doing here?” With my meager belongings orderly once more, I have nothing else to keep my hands busy. I consider using the broom to give the floor a little sweep, but Nico’s dark eyes—both of them for once—are sending a riot of emotions through me. I’m pretty sure with a single touch the broom would send me shooting off into outer space. “I thought you were too recognizable. That’s why you couldn’t come yourself.”

“I was worried about you,” Nico replies, finally turning serious. “I had to come. What happened to your toothbrush? It sounded like you were being attacked.”

“Shit thought it was a chew toy,” I say simply. Nico nods, understanding. “What happened to your eye?” I ask, taking my turn to ask a question.

“Hepa,” Nico says in a similar tone to how I said Shit—like the name is explanation enough. “There’s no way a one-eyed werewolf could be anyone but Nico Tralano, famous private investigator.”

I roll my eyes. “But now you are a completely different person? Like Superman when he takes off his glasses. Except you added an eye and went blonde?”

Nico shrugs, his muscles flexing. I swallow. I mean, he’s not wrong. Nobody is going to recognize him, but I don’t think it has anything to do with his new eye and hair color. Nico is walking around in tight cotton underwear. His face is the last thing on everyone’s mind.

But Cassie was right about one thing. I do know it’s the real Nico under there—and I’m curious.

“Is it permanent?” I wonder aloud, though I’m not sure what answer I want. Nico looks more handsome than ever with two eyes...and oddly younger too. Or maybe just lighter. More innocent. Like with his eye restored it didn’t just erase the physical wound, but the emotional ones behind it as well. Somehow, though, I prefer the darker pirate version of him. My normal Nico is—no. I quickly censor that thought. There is no my Nico, just old Nico and new Nico.

“It’s not real,” Nico says. “Just a glamour.” He leans toward me and points to the eye that’s usually covered with an eyepatch. “Go ahead. Feel.”

I don’t want to touch him. I don’t want to get any closer in this already small and way too confined space. But also I don’t want Nico to think I’m grossed out by his missing eye. Somehow I just know that would hurt his feelings—though I’m equally sure he’d hide it.

Nico closes his eyes and then lifts his chin, almost daring me to refuse.

Holding my breath, I inch closer, stretching out my hand until gently, I brush my fingers across the ridge of his eyebrow. I expect to feel the edge of his eyepatch, but instead I encounter a rough ridge of scar tissue. It’s strange to see with my eyes a perfectly smooth expanse of skin while my fingertips communicate something entirely different to my brain.

I could pull away now, but I don’t. Instead, I allow my touch to wander down, to the place where his eye would’ve been. There’s a deep hollow here, the skin sunken in with nothing behind to support it. And more scar tissue. Unthinkingly, I softly stroke it.

I’m still processing the whole Nico wanted to kill his ex thing...but at the same time, I know how it feels to be betrayed by someone you love. There were definitely times when I wanted to kill Jax. Actually, when I first found out he cheated on me, I chased him through the house with a cast iron skillet. And if he hadn’t flown out of reach, I wouldn’t have hesitated to put a dent in his thick skull.

Broken relationships leave scars on everyone. I’m still trying to get the last bit of infection to ooze out of the wounds Jax left. But Nico’s hurt is more permanent than most. Every time he looks in the mirror, he must remember how quickly love can turn to hate.

“Poor Nico,” I breath the words out in a low whisper.

He jerks away, both eyes coming open. Without a word, he shoots to his feet and begins pacing the room. “Fill me in on where you’re at with the investigation,” he says, his voice all business now.

I stare at him, torn between an odd sense of hurt and annoyance. I was actually being nice to him—for once—and he ran away like his tail was on fire. I guess my show of sympathy was more than his super macho self could take. If we were friends, I’d tell him, ‘Look dude, your girlfriend took your eye out and that sucks