Green Flame Assassin (Demon Lord series, book 2) by Morgan Blayde Page B

across the room, her eyes glinting with wrath.  “Don’t talk down about the fey.”
William tried to take a pull of his beer.  He failed since it had inexplicably turned to ice, his mug and hand both frosted over.
Vivian stomped over to the werekitties.  She yelled at them, “Don’t you have any self-respect?  What is your problem?  Get down off of there and put some clothes on.”
Angie glared at the girls.  “I know them.  Werecats!  That explains everything.”
Cleo, the middle werecat, blinked behind gold, wire-framed glasses.  The base of her spine had sprouted a two-foot, brindle-colored tail that swished as she swayed drunkenly.  Her human ears had fuzzed over and migrated to the top of her head.  Her smile showed a bit of fang as well.  She waved her glass at me.  “Hey, weregirls just wanna have fun.”
Angie swung toward me.  “Do something.  This is your house.”
I shuffled through my wallet, looking for single ones.  “What kind of host would I be if I didn’t let my female guests dance naked on my bar?  It’s a party, right?  Hey, someone get me a drink.”
Osamu arrived with silver trays laden with finger foods.
The wolves swung his way, hurrying over to stuff their faces.  Their hands jerked back, fingers empty.  William bellowed, “Why the hell are you serving stuff on silver trays?  Has it escaped your notice we’re werewolves?”
Dani stage-whispered to Terri, “I thought they smelled funny.”
Osamu looked stricken.  “I’m terribly sorry.  I’ll just leave these for the others, and bring you more.”
“Quickly,” William snarled.
Osamu hurried away.
I went and grabbed a seat at the bar, staring up at female splendor.  “You girls might not want to stay up all night.  We’re hitting the road in the morning.”
Cleo blinked at me, pausing, forgetting to dance.  “We are?”
“Road trip to Sacramento,” I said.  “We leave at dawn—or when my eyes open.”
Izumi pressed herself against my back.  “You’ve done your duty to the fallen warrior.  How about giving me some attention?”
Cleo was dancing once more, swinging her butt in time to the music, her tail swaying hypnotically.  Watching, I spoke to Izumi over my shoulder, “But the girls are performing.  It would be rude to leave before they’re done.”  Sure I wanted to drag Izumi off for wild, crazy monkey sex, but playing a little hard to get would keep me in charge while making me more desirable.
Izumi reached past me and touched the top of the bar.  It iced over. 
The werekitties fell, sprawling ingloriously.  
Izumi licked my ear and whispered, “They’re done.”
Dani passed out, head hanging over the bar.  Cleo groaned, rubbing her fine ass.  Terri slid off the bar, and drunkenly cursed from the floor in a language entirely her invention.
I nodded, getting off my stool.  “They certainly are.”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
NINE
 
And things were going so well…
 
                                                — Caine Deathwalker
 
Next morning, we took the limo.  Osamu drove with Vivian riding shotgun beside him.  They split a six-pack of diet cherry Pepsi.
The weregirls and I hid out in the back, behind tinted windows.  Speakers drenched us in pulsing rock.  The bar dispensed Coke and Captain Morgan single barrel rum, which I mixed half and half and passed around.  The girls kept a nice buzz going, but their high werecat metabolism burnt off enough of the alcohol to keep them from getting completely bombed. 
With their scanty inhibitions evaporated, their ears migrated to the top of their heads, going pointy and fuzzy.  They removed excess clothing—meaning everything—so their whipping tails were unhindered.  Manfully, I endured their sexual attentions, and allowed all three to have their way with me in various combinations.  I didn’t want to hurt their feelings after