Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

My face falls. “He left this morning.”
She says drily, “Not without marking his territory first, I
see.”
Reaching up to touch the tender spot on my neck she’s
looking at, I blush. “He, um, sometimes gets a little carried
away.”
She beams at me. “Of course he does. You’re delish. Now
crack open the wine, because we’ve got a lot of catching up to
do.”
“Great minds think alike. I’ve already got the bottle open.”
We go inside. When we get to the kitchen, I grab another
glass and the bottle from the counter, and we sit at the table.
Mojo wanders in from the living room and throws himself at
Sloane’s feet. Within seconds, he’s snoring.
Smiling down at him, she gently nudges him with her boot.
“Still a ball of fire, I see.”
Pouring her wine, I chuckle. “I’ve been screaming to wake
the dead for over a week straight, and it hasn’t budged him.
You’d think he was brought up in a haunted house. No matter
how much groaning and wall shaking goes on, this dog sleeps
like a baby.”
Sloane lifts her glass to me. “Here’s to getting stuffed with
premium sausage.”
“You’re such a hopeless romantic.”
We smile at each other and drink.
When we set our glasses down, Sloane says, “So. You’re
in love.”
“Don’t make it sound like I’ve got cancer. And how do
you know, anyway?”
“It’s written all over your face, Juliet. Mafia Romeo has
sexed you on every horizontal surface in the house, and now
you’re glowing with happiness.”
My face flushes with pleasure, remembering exactly how
well I’ve been “sexed.” And not only on the horizontal