36. Tess
TESS
“Here?” I held tip-toed on the step stool, trying to even out the banner over the kitchen island.
“A little higher?” Nash held up the opposite end, leaning back easily to squint at mine.
Not my fault she’s the height of a fucking giraffe.
But despite the scowl on my face, I did as Nash asked, reaching to the very end of my wingspan before taping the sign in place.
Prepping the apartment for Cyrus’ birthday was the literal last thing I wanted to be doing. In my opinion, her bad attitude didn’t warrant celebration. She was rude and standoffish and judgmental, and if she wanted to do something for her birthday, she could plan it herself.
But Nash was a sweetheart who cared about everyone to a fault — including the grumbly hermit that lived down the hall.
While Blade was out keeping Cyrus busy, Nash had baked a fresh strawberry shortcake, arranged an array of streamers, and inflated a small army of balloons that Butch was batting around the living room floor.
And call me a sucker, but I couldn’t just sit by and watch her toil on her own. Even if Cyrus didn’t deserve the celebration, Nash certainly deserved the help.
Especially after what she and Blade had pulled in the Velvet Paradise parking lot. At first, I was annoyed to get shoved back into the car. I was more than capable of handling that sycophant by myself.
But as we drove away from the scene, I realized that it was nice to not have to. I still didn’t trust them with much, but at least I knew that I could rely on them to protect me from utter creeps.
It’s more than I’ve been able to rely on anyone else for.
Besides, the solo time in the apartment might give me a chance to get to know Nash a bit better. Anything I thought I’d understood about her flew out the window the moment she’d captured me last Fright Night and made a replica of my pussy.
Did that really happen? I’d been so utterly delirious by the time that she captured me, that everything that followed felt like a weird dream.
But the sore throat I’d sported in the days following was a stark reminder of exactly how real it was.
Still, I had no idea what she had planned for her little arts and crafts project. I thought she’d have brought it up by now, but she acted like it never happened.
I watched her pull the last of the streamers out of Butch’s reach. As she twisted the delicate crepe paper into a perfect spiral, I bit my lip.
Maybe I should ask?
The idea alone was enough to flush my cheeks. I rarely found myself at a loss for words, but the thought of asking this handsome psychopath exactly what she wanted to do with my pussy was beyond even my limits.
Instead, I aimed for safer territory. Maybe the pussy art would come up naturally.
“So, how long have you and Cyrus known each other?”
“Our whole lives, pretty much.” She busied her hands with the decorations, not sparing me a glance as she worked.
I rocked on my heels, waving a loose streamer for Butch to bat at. “How’d you meet?”
“Uh, we did a program together… as kids.” With that, she turned away from the decorations, crossing the counter and heading into the kitchen.
My brow wrinkled as I watched her go. She wasn’t just working – she was retreating, trying to keep as much distance from me and my questions as possible.
Drumming my fingers against the counter, Butch and I followed after her. “And what type of program was it?”
“Oh, like a general youth program.” Her shoulders tensed slightly as she lifted the strawberry shortcake from the fridge and placed it between us on the counter.
Its icing was perfectly set — all that was left to do was place the dollops of whipped cream and little strawberry florets, and then light the candles. Nash moved with expert precision, her strong hands steady with each delicate motion.
From the concrete, Butch watched closely, desperately hoping for a stray glob of whipped cream. But given Nash’s deft hands, I doubted he would be so lucky.
“Damn,” I murmured, distracted despite myself. “You really are an artist, huh?”
“I try,” Nash shrugged. “We’ve got a lot of time and space for hobbies here. Have you ever seen Blade’s?”
This was something she did a lot — try to lure me off the scent of her path with juicy morsels of the present. And I almost fell for it.
But before I could push for more information on her past, the door swung open and the lights fell.
Blade’s voice rang out from the doorway. “Birthday boy is in the building! I repeat, birthday boy is in the building.”
Even in the dark, I could hear the scowl in Cyrus’ voice. “‘Birthday boy’ is not as discreet a code name as you think it is, Blade.”
“Nonsense.” Blade murmured, covering Cyrus’ eyes as they stumbled clumsily through the door. “You’ve got no idea what’s about to hit you.”
Nash made quick work of lighting the candles and placing the cake in my hands. Just when I thought Cyrus’ frown couldn’t grow any deeper, Blade lifted her hands from over her eyes, unveiling me with the cake.
Fucking asshole.
But before she could wedge in some nasty comment, Blade and Nash shouted out in unison. “Happy Birthday!”
Cyrus glowered. “I’ve told you a million times not to celebrate my birthday.”
I wanted to smash the cake right in her face — how dare she be so rude when Nash had put in so much work? But Nash just smiled, completely unbothered by the birthday brat.
Blade was practically vibrating with excitement. “Come on and make your wish, or else I’m gonna start singing.”
Clearly, Cyrus was over Blade’s taunting. But as she caught my gaze, a glint of something wicked flashed behind her midnight eyes. Cyrus blew out the candles, sending a small gust of smoke straight into my face before growling, “Let’s get this over with. I’m ready for Fright Night.”