Bite Me

CHAPTER 27

About, a felony assault, and a good fuck in the Sports Center bathroom while she had her skates on, and Livy was ready to go home. But no one had asked her what she wanted. Instead, her team, the Babes, had preyed on poor, defenseless Vic. He’d worked the feline out of him by fucking her. Once the cat was gone, all that was left was a weak-willed grizzly who couldn’t stand up to a few perky broads.

So, where was she now? A bar. Something else she wouldn’t mind. A good felony was always nicely topped off with a stiff drink. But this wasn’t just a bar . . . it was a karaoke bar in the Village. A group of the wild dogs who lived across the street from the brownstone were in attendance. Not all of them, though. The wild dogs split up their activities so there was always a group with the pups. It seemed nice, but Livy wasn’t sure she could deal with that many people in her life, all day, every day. She barely tolerated having to deal with herself, much less a crowd.

“I don’t believe it,” Vic muttered with a snarl.

Livy looked up from her untouched shot of vodka, her nose twitching as it continued to heal. “What?”

“It’s your cousins.”

Uh-oh.

“I’ll make sure they don’t start anything with—”

“That’s not what’s bothering me. Jake is with them. I told him to stay and protect the Jean-Louis Parkers.”

Livy waved that off. “Coop, Cherise, and Kyle are with the wild dogs across the street. Coop wants Kyle to be around other children. Normal children. Or as normal as wild dogs can be . . . which, when you think about it, is a hell of a lot more normal than any of the Jean-Louis Parkers. Coop texted me, and I made him promise to stay with the Packs until we get back tonight.”

“The Packs?”

“Some of the Smiths are there. They never leave the wild dogs on their own now that Jess Ward’s hillbilly spouse has a spawn.”

Vic smiled. “That was so romantic.”

“I’m all about true love.”

Then she laughed. Although even Livy had to admit it sounded a bit sinister.

“Hey, cousin,” Jake said as he sat down in their booth. “And her giant boy toy.”

Jake took Livy’s vodka and swallowed it in one gulp. He stuck his tongue out, disgusted. “You call that vodka?”

“I tried to tell her,” Vic complained.

“What are you two . . . friends now?”

They didn’t answer. Vic just pushed his vodka over to Jake. Her cousin took it, drank it, and grinned.

“You really should listen to this man.”

“I am Russian,” Vic said in a thick accent. “Vodka I know.”

“I hate you,” Livy admitted, “because you sound really hot when you do that accent.”

Vic leaned in and murmured in that damn accent, “I can do it more . . . just for you.”

“Stop it. We’re stuck here ’cause of you.”

“Who can turn Blayne down? There were tears.”

“With Blayne there’s always tears! And it works on every one of you pathetic males.”

“You’re the one doing her wedding,” Vic reminded her.

“For a fuck-load of money, hybrid.”

Jake smiled. “You two make a cute couple.”

“Shut up,” Livy shot back.

Having been told to shut up lots of times by Livy, Jake was more interested in what was happening on the stage.

“What the hell am I listening to?”

“Someone’s really bad version of ‘The Safety Dance.’ ” She stared at Jake and said it again. ” ‘The Safety Dance.’ ”

Jake patted Livy’s shoulder and stood. “Now, now. No need to get homicidal. Jake is here to handle everything.”

Vic watched Jake make his way to the stage. “What did he mean? What’s he going to handle?”

Feeling surprisingly playful, Livy stared at Vic and said with deep meaning, “You don’t want to know, baby. You don’t want to know.”

Jess giggled and pressed her face into Bobby Ray Smith’s neck.

“That ain’t right, y’all,” he said, laughing. “Callin’ that sort of thing ‘skates-up’ is just wrong.”

“If your skates are resting on his shoulders . . . that’s skates-up,” Gwen explained, her hand wrapped around a bottle of Guinness, her butt on Lock’s lap. “Although the height difference is so huge between the two, they were really resting on his arms.”

Blayne smiled, very happy to be here with her friends and her mate.

“Hey, Gwen.” Jess took a bottle of ice-cold Coke from the waitress. “I heard your dad’s coming in for the wedding.”

“He is.”

Jess’s face dropped. “I thought you’d be happy about that.”

“I am. But he’s bringing his sisters. That means my mother and her sisters against my dad’s sisters. She-lions versus She-tigers. That I do not look forward to.”

“My uncles will attempt to keep them busy,” Lock reminded her. “I believe they are looking forward to it.”

“My father’s sisters will chew them up and spit them out. But I’m relatively certain your uncles will enjoy that while it lasts.”

Mitch came over to the table. Brendon had gone to be with Ronnie Lee and his baby, which Blayne was starting to secretly worry was possessed with a demon of some kind. Or maybe that was just what happened when one combined feline and canine DNA.

Mitch tried to sit in the booth, but that would mean Bo would have to get out of his way. With Blayne on his lap, Bo didn’t seem inclined to bother.

“Could you move?” Mitch asked.

“I could . . . but I won’t.”

Rolling his eyes, Mitch grabbed a chair from one of the other tables and slammed it down in front of them. “There are honey badgers here,” he announced.

“I thought you liked Livy,” Blayne said, sipping her sugar-free Mountain Dew.

“Not just Livy. There’s a bunch of them now.”

Gwen lifted her head a bit. Nodded. “And one of them is heading for the stage.”

“But I was enjoying the wild dog version of ‘The Safety Dance.’ ”

Bo shook his head at Blayne. “No, you weren’t. Please don’t lie.”

“I was trying to enjoy it. Okay? Happy now?” She crinkled up her nose a bit. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood for a song that a honey badger would sing, though.”

“Why not?”

“One time at the Sports Center I saw Livy sitting on the floor, wearing earbuds. I asked her what she was listening to. Turns out it was the Lords of Acid. Tech music with a lot of singing about fucking, which I’m fine with. But what freaked me out was that she was just sitting there. Like she was meditating. Who listens to dance music that talks about fucking and doesn’t move?”

“A honey badger who coldly and brutally crushed the kneecap of a She-lion who pissed her off?” Lock asked.

The male honey badger got on stage. He’d already chosen a song, and it began to play. But when he started to sing without even looking at the words on the screen, Blayne didn’t know if she should be charmed or completely and utterly freaked the fuck out.

“‘The Piña Colada Song?’ ” Mitch asked them, flabbergasted. “Honey badgers like ‘The Piña Colada Song’?”

“No,” Gwen observed, her gaze moving over the crowd. “They love it.”

Obviously, since they’d all moved to the stage to sing along, some raising lighters in the air, others just their arms. They waved and they sang.

But when Livy got up on the stage with that badger, put her arm around his shoulders, and sang along with him, Blayne was sure about one thing . . .

“The world’s about to end!” she announced cheerfully, certain that if the Rapture was coming, she’d done enough good in her life to ensure her passage to Paradise. “Because I’m sure this is a sign of the End of Days.”

Mitch stared at Blayne for a good minute before he agreed, “It’s ‘The Piña Colada Song.’ And honey badgers. It just doesn’t seem right, does it?”

Livy sat back down beside Vic. “ ‘The Piña Colada Song’?” he asked.

“It’s a family favorite. Played at all Kowalski weddings, along with every polka song you can think of.”

Vic scratched his head, stared at Livy, until he finally asked, “Polka?”

It was enough of a shock that the karaoke machine actually had polka music on it. But it was even more startling to see Livy up on the stage with Jake and Jocelyn, singing along . . . in Polish.

Vic had thought he knew Livy . . . but he didn’t know her at all. She was, however, fascinating.

Freaky, yes. But fascinating.

“You need to make this stop.”

Vic looked up to see Novikov standing over him.

“Come on,” Vic said. “I know the Novikov name. You’re Russian like I am, and we have polka, too.”

“I’m half-Russian and half-Mongolian, but that’s not the point. Blayne likes the polka music. She now wants it at our wedding. So we can dance to it. Dance to polka. Me.”

“I’m sure your Cossack ancestors would happily dance to polka music at their weddings. You should feel honored. It’s probably a family tradition.”

“It is not a family tradition.”

Vic snorted. “It is now.”

The pair sized each other up until Novikov asked, “Why don’t I want to kill you right now?”

“Remember that song the wild dog sang a few minutes ago?”

“ ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight’?”

“That’s the one. Your lion’s asleep.”

“Pardon?”

“You had a couple of drinks, right?”

“Yeah.”

“The feline part of you is out cold, numbed by the alcohol and lack of danger. I had a couple of vodka shots, so my tiger is out for the night. My grizzly, however, is up and ready to party.” Vic grinned. “Wanna dance?”

“Not with a dude.”

“See? The polar gives a rational response to my question. If the male lion in you had been awake when I asked that, we’d be tearing each other apart and destroying this quaint bar right now to sadly prove how manly we both are.”

Novikov thought on that, shrugged, and replied, “Yeah. Whatever. Is that vodka you were drinking good?”

Vic grinned. “The best. Let’s get some.”

Livy and Jake helped Vic up the stairs to the Jean-Louis Parker rental home. Blayne, who was sober, ended up driving Vic’s SUV back to the house. She and Novikov would then spend the night at the wild dog house across the street.

“He weighs a ton, Livy,” Jake complained.

“Put your back into it. We’re almost there.”

“Move,” Novikov said, pushing Livy and Jake away.

“Hello, my hybrid brother!” Vic crowed.

“Christ, Novikov,” Jake demanded. “How much vodka did you give him?”

“I don’t know. A bottle. Or two.” He then picked Vic up in a fireman carry, and Livy rushed up the stairs to unlock the door.

Novikov carried him to their room, dropping Vic onto the bed.

“Can you make it back to the wild dog house?” Livy asked.

“Of course,” Bo snapped. “I’m not weak like him. I’m strong. Cossack strong.”

Then Novikov walked into a wall, stumbled back, and passed out on the floor by the bed.

Livy stared down at the two snoring, drunk males. “Well . . . I’ll go tell Blayne that Novikov is staying here for the night.”

“Hey, cousin.”

“What?”

“Think we can get some signed jerseys from Novikov?”

Livy faced Jake. “Are you asking because you’ve suddenly become a hockey fan, or do you just want to sell them for some outrageous sum to very rich European shifters?”

Jake shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Sighing, Livy walked away from her cousin and went to track down Blayne.