Honkytonk Hell: A Dark and Twisted Urban Fantasy (The Broken Bard Chronicles Book 1) eden Hudson (best book club books txt) đ
- Author: eden Hudson
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Right? Tough thought. One time she told me sheâd had sex with lots of black guys because I didnât like her hair dyed red and she wanted me to be insecure about my dick.
Then I heard water running through the pipes.
What are you doing? I asked.
Taking another shower, he said.
Praise be.
Donât say that, okay?
Itâll get easier, I said.
Well, itâs not right now, so donât say it, he snapped.
Not having Him anymore is part of the reason it feels so cold, I said. Once your body cools off, itâs going to be twice as bad.
Great, Tough said. Something to look forward to.
I took a deep breath through my nose. About twenty seconds left on those scones. Then a grainy video-clip of Toughâs girlfriend sucking him off flickered through my head.
Can you wait until you learn how to close the connection before you masturbate? I asked.
But itâs cool for you to think about nailing my mom?
I wasnâtâ
You think I donât know what happened? You canât keep a lid on shit in this town. Especially not a preacherâs wife nailing a vampire.
Keep talking, kid.
Whatâre you going to do, stake me?
I shook my head and pulled the scones before they started drying out. Changed the oven temperature for the bread knots. Things could get out of hand between vamps fast and I wasnât going to end Tough because of something a dumbass kid like him couldnât even understand.
If you donât want to know what Iâm thinking, I repeated, Learn to shut the damn connection.
Canât you shut it off? he asked.
You opened it, you have to close it.
Damn it.
I started knotting bread.
Have I been, uh, dead for very long? Tough asked.
Overnight.
What time is it?
Four fifty-one. I slid the knots in the oven and started plating the scones. Running late?
By about seven hours, he said. Hey, cool.
If I hadnât had the vamp senses, Tough wouldâve scared the hell out of me, going from my upstairs bathroom to standing beside me and pulling his ratty John Deere ball cap on his still-damp hair in almost no time. The post-death skin-tightening had given him a shadow of stubble along his jaw and grown his hair enough that it flipped out a little at the ends. He had inherited Shannonâs curls.
What you watching? he asked, leaning over my tablet.
Telling him to mind his own damn business would just fuel the fire, so I ignored the question.
âGoing out?â I asked. âYou know the sun comes up in about twenty-nine minutes.â
Iâm just headed to the house.
âI canât babysit today,â I said. âIâve got a business to run.â
Iâll be fine.
He probably would. Heâd eaten the equivalent of a person and a half when he woke up. Most vamps can run on a whole lot less than that.
Tough leaned over the scones and took a deep breath. His stomach growled with phantom hunger pains.
âDonât touch,â I said.
They smell good.
âDoes the term âviolent rejectionâ mean anything to you?â
He shook his head.
âIt will if you swallow anything but human blood or vamp venom from here on out,â I said. I started putting the plated scones in the display case. âItâs like food poisoning for vampires, except it happens immediately and the âviolentâ part is really an understatement. They donât make a detergent that washes out stomach lining.â
I canât believe youâre going to let those cool down before someone eats them. Itâs like sacrilege or something.
âBig word.â
Smart girlfriend. He stared down another scone as it went into the display. How often do you slip up and eat one?
âI donât anymore.â
But you own a bakery because you like torture?
âWerenât you going somewhere?â
Yeah, he said, glancing up at the clock. He left the kitchen and I could hear his footsteps headed for the door. And the Trackerâs probably looking for me, so thatâs a thing.
I dropped the plate I was holding and had to kick in the vamp speed to catch it and the scone before they hit the floor.
âThe Tracker? Tough!â The bell over the door jingled, closing his scent off. Why is the Tracker after you? Heâs going to be able to smell you all over my place.
I missed a meeting with my probation officer, he said. How did I make the speed work before?
Shove it up yourâ
Oh, there it goes.
I slammed the display case shut. The Tracker in my bakery. Iâd have to scrub the place down with lye. Maybe I could meet him outside, tell him Tough had already left. Zombies almost never deviate from their commands, but it was worth a try.
You damn well better hope he doesnât insist on coming into my bakery to follow your scent, I said.
Will you quit your bitching? Youâre getting whatever you want out of this deal.
I looked down at the scones and tried not to think about what I wanted more than anything. On my tablet, Krycek started banging on the missile silo door and screaming for someone to let him out. I reached over the counter and shut the sound off.
Tough
For a second on Main Cross I thought I saw the Trackerâs big blue Dodge Ram, but it had an Iowa plate, so I let
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