Content Warning
non-consent via mind control
Vin did not like Big Boss’s house.
Ranches never appealed to him, as he believed rather strongly that houses should have an upstairs, and ranches seemed unfinished without one. He also had a rather violent dislike for the late seventies wood wall paneling on most of the walls and the equally dull, yellow-stained wallpaper on the rest. Big Boss and his wife had quit smoking decades ago, but the house still smelled a bit like the inside of a dilapidated Howard Johnson’s from the ghosts of cigarettes past.
Thankfully on Super Bowl Sunday, the smell was mostly covered by various kinds of food in the kitchen. Vin counted three slow cookers going with stew, vegetarian chili, and some sort of chowder. Biscuits and cornbread were warming in the oven, and Marian, Big Boss’s wife, was busy unloading tater tots from an air fryer. In addition to that, Vin could see a large aluminum pan on the stove containing boneless chicken pieces slathered in a wild array of sauces. This was not even getting into the dining room table groaning under its load of charcuterie, dosa, naan, chips, dip, pie, and cookies.
In the living room, visible from the kitchen from the open space over the counter and stove, the pre-game roared out from an unseen soundbar somewhere beneath the 85-inch television, an assault on both the ears and eyes.
“You were saying something about being able to hear at the party?” Tzella remarked as Vin gingerly made room on the counter for his own crock pot and attempted to find a free outlet on the counter power strip.
“I know, I know,” he sighed. “Silly notion in retrospect.”
Marian chuckled from behind them. “Brett!” she hollered. “Turn that godforsaken thing down, the game hasn’t even started yet. No one wants to hear the sportscaster circle jerk, especially not everyone in the next town over.”
“It’s not that loud!” her husband’s disembodied voice shouted from down the hallway.
“The Ludlow town line is practically in our backyard! Trust me, they can probably hear it!”
A moment later Big Boss bounded into the kitchen, which immediately felt smaller with his presence filling half of it. “Becker, my man!” he bellowed good-naturedly. “Brought that pulled pork of yours I requested?”
“Just trying to plug it in,” Vin answered.
“And who is this lovely creature with you?”
Tzella smiled coquettishly, suddenly all charm.
“A friend. Tzella, this is my boss, Brett Menard, but we just call him Big Boss.”
“Because I’m big and I’m the boss,” Big Boss put in, before laughing at his own explanation. “Do we shake, hug or none of the above?”
Both of Big Boss’ hands were easily twice the size of Tzella’s, however upon looking back up, she decided that receiving a hug would result in having to hastily repair a cracked rib or three. She promptly winced after extending her hand, as he had a shoulder-jarringly enthusiastic handshake. “Hope you came hungry. There’s enough food to keep both those football teams up there in fighting trim.”
“Yes yes yes,” Marian fussed. “Get out of my kitchen and go turn down the idiot box like I asked.”
Big Boss exited, grumbling. Marian chuckled exasperatedly as she handed both Tzella and Vin plates. “Best load ’em up. I do not have room in my fridge for all of this.”
When they stepped into the living room with their heavily laden plates a moment later, Tzella was introduced to three more of Vin’s co-workers, (Jordan) Jameson, (PJ) Pelletier and (Ravi) Subramaniam. Of the three, Subramanium was the only one that had a plus one: his wife Indira, who lit up upon meeting Tzella and much to Vin’s amusement, immediately convinced her to sit and have her cascade of curls twisted into a long braid.
“It looks good,” Vin noted when they both returned to the kitchen for second helpings. Indira had somehow found a long red and gold ribbon to weave through the braid, and the pop of color underscored the deep midnight black of Tzella’s hair. “I don’t think I’ve seen your ears before now.”
Tzella didn’t quite smile, but the dimples in her cheeks briefly appeared. “I was not aware ears were such a critical focus point.”
“I was mostly just kinda surprised they weren’t pointed,” he replied, lowering his voice.
“Why would they be? That is not common to humans.”
“Which you aren’t.”
She gave him one of her lopsided smiles. “True, but I figured you did not want the rest of the party aware of that.” She glanced over the kitchen island to make sure no one was looking before the air on both sides of her head briefly rippled. When it cleared, the tips of her ears were tapered into delicate, elfin points. “Better?”
Vin snorted. “Cut that out before someone sees you.”
She shook her head with a giggle, her braid whipping over her shoulder. “Too Vulcan?” she asked, reaching up to rub the restored curve of one ear.
“You know about Star Trek?” he asked, startled.
An odd expression crossed Tzella’s face. “It is my understanding that it was popular enough to make several concurrent serials about it after the antecedent original story. If I recall correctly, there was the Next Generation, one about a place called Babylon Nine, and… there was one about a lost vessel, yes?”
“Mostly correct,” Vin chuckled. “You managed to combine Deep Space Nine with Babylon Five though.”
“Fascinating,” Tzella deadpanned, quirking an eyebrow in an alarmingly good impression of Leonard Nimoy.
“We talking about Star Trek?” Easton staggered into the kitchen from the side door, arms laden with two large foil casserole pans and an occupied cake saver balanced precariously on top, which Vin immediately snatched down and placed on the counter before it could slide off. “Thanks. TOS, TNG, Kelvin or Nu-Trek? Also hi, don’t think we’ve met but i’m horrible at remembering people, so if we have, my apologies.”
“We have not.”
Easton relaxed visibly, before setting down the casserole dishes on the stove next to the chicken. “Esmé. The guys call me Easton.”
“Tzella, Vin’s… friend.”
Esmé’s eyebrow went up a fraction at the hesitation. “Pretty name.”
Tzella looked delighted by the compliment.
“So, where’s your lucky lady?” Vin teased.
Easton turned pink. “Parking while trying to get off the phone with her mother. Seems to be more difficult than usual. Someone has mother-of-the-brides fever.” She rolled her eyes, punctuating her statement with a long-suffering sigh.
“Oof. Should we go rescue her?”
“Maybe, if she isn’t done in five minutes. Think the oven is free? These chicken noodle casseroles should probably reheat.”
“Awyisss,” Vin grinned. “That was great last year.”
“Kinda surprised by how much everyone liked it, it’s basically just fancy mac and cheese with chicken thrown in. Though this time I made one pan spicy.”
“Sometimes simple is awesome.” Vin grabbed oven mitts, shoved open the oven and set himself to moving the cornbread to the top rack or out of the oven entirely to make room for the casseroles.
Relieved of her burden, Easton grabbed a plate, quickly building a pyramid of chicken on it. “So. Friends?”
Vin yelped, the question startling him enough to brush a hot rack with the unprotected back of his arm.
Tzella smiled vaguely. “It is a long story. We are not sleeping together, if that is what you are wondering.”
Vin spluttered, turning scarlet.
“What? We are not.”
“Not my business,” Easton acknowledged, with a sheepish shake of her head. “Forgive me for prying?”
Before Tzella could answer, the kitchen door banged open and a roundish dark-skinned woman in a well worn Patriots jersey bounced into the kitchen, hugging yet another large container in both arms. “Uggggh,” she groaned dramatically, turning an exasperated look up to Easton. “Explain to me like I’m five why we’re not just eloping.”
“Cake and cupcakes? Jesus, Rose.” Vin relieved her of the container without being asked, peering at the alarming number of cupcakes inside. “What did we do to deserve this bounty?”
“I’ve been stress-baking.” Rose grinned. “The party was an excellent excuse to do a lot of it.”
“We’re not worthy,” Vin chuckled. “This is my friend, Tzella, by the way.”
“Hello, Friend Tzella,” Rose waved before looking back up at her fiancée. “Well?”
Easton fondly tossed an arm around her, kissing the top of her head. “Your mother will never let us hear the end of it and you know it.”
“I hate that you’re right,” Rose groaned before turning her attention back to Tzella. “So what bet did you lose in order to get dragged out to the middle of nowhere to watch football with a bunch of trout nerds?”
Tzella shrugged, careful to do so with both shoulders. “Vin asked if I would like to come with him. I said I would.”
Rose made a mock-pitying face. “At least the food’s always top tier. The guys clearly haven’t had their beers yet, otherwise they’d be a lot rowdier. Also I notice Carl hasn’t made his entrance yet.” She shuddered. “Here’s hoping he doesn’t come draped in an entire dead animal this time. You really shouldn’t wear a fresh deer carcass as a scarf.”
“Carl?” Tzella asked, turning to Vin. “Is that—”
“Yep,” he answered quickly before she could finish her question, earning himself an exasperated glare. “At least he didn’t wear the entire pig roast he brought last year.”
He had moved his hand up absently to scratch at his shoulder as he spoke, before realizing there was no reason why it should be itching. Looking up at Tzella he guessed she knew something was off, as she was frowning slightly, as if trying to hear something under the roar of the TV. “Something is wrong,” she murmured, softly enough so only Vin could hear her.
Oblivious to their exchange, Easton grabbed another helping of chicken and tater tots, glancing at the TV. “Looks like they’re about to do the anthem. Speaking of the devil, doesn’t he usually makes his entrance right about—”
The front door of the house banged open, admitting the last and most obnoxious of the hatchery crew directly into the living room. “TREMBLE MERE MORTALS! THE FUN HAS ARRIVED,” Carl’s voice bellowed, loud enough to drown out the television.
“—now?” Easton finished.
Rather than a deer carcass, Carl, wearing an oversized Chiefs jersey and what looked like a Spirit Halloween war bonnet, was instead draped with three tall, busty, blonde women wearing extremely skimpy Chiefs cheerleader outfits. He looked, per usual, extremely pleased with himself to the point of being mostly unfazed by the collective groan of everyone upon his entrance.
Rose snorted softly. “Well, at least it’s not an entire dead animal, scarf or otherwise.”
“Jesus Christ, Carl,” Pelletier frowned. “Do you always have to be the center of attention?”
“Everyone, this is Kanika, Shinn, and Gellia,” Carl blustered, ignoring Pelletier. “Do be nice to them, they came a long way to hang with us.”
There was a silence (aside from the blaring TV) as everyone in the room recovered from Carl’s entrance. “Fuck’s sake,” Miriam finally snapped. “Close the damn door behind you before we all freeze. Also take that disrespectful shit off your head in my house, especially during the anthem.”
Carl sighed dramatically but dragged the bonnet off of his head, handing it to the girl behind him. “Be a doll and stick this back in the truck for me, sweet cheeks. And shut the door.”
The girl took the discarded headdress and turned towards the door before stopping with a frown, looking over to where Vin was standing behind the kitchen island. Pain flared from Vin’s shoulder and he clapped a hand on top of it, wincing.
Carl glanced at Vin, his eyes narrowing. “Now, Kanika. You can goggle at Pecker when you come back.”
Kanika tilted her head, and Vin realized she wasn’t quite looking at him, but rather at a point behind him. He resisted the temptation to look backwards, waiting until she finally exited the house before he swiftly glanced back, catching Tzella closing wholly black eyes.
Oh, shit.
Miriam turned a slightly less irritated smile to the two remaining women on either side of Carl. “Welcome, ladies. Do help yourself to whatever snacks you can find, there are a lot of them.”
“Don’t mind if we do,” one of the blondes giggled, shooting an appraising look at Jameson, who blushed, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. The girl on the other side of Carl meanwhile took a long, appraising look at Big Boss, her eyes dragging from the floor to his face and back down, settling right about crotch level.
Miriam’s smile froze, no longer reaching her eyes.
Carl smirked, tsk-ing. “Don’t tease your hosts like that, girls.” He moved to sit in the empty armchair in the corner of the room farthest from the TV, one blonde immediately wriggling into his lap while the other leaned over the back of the chair, breasts threatening to escape her cropped cheerleader top.
Vin noted with some exasperation most of the guys in the room shifting to cross their legs, and Rose, Easton and Indira pretending that they weren’t covertly staring. Meanwhile his shoulder felt like his tattoo was trying to burn its way out of his shoulder and through his clothing, especially when the third returned a moment later and beelined for the charcuterie board, loading up a plate before taking it and her place on the other arm of Carl’s chair.
“Vin. A word. Now.“
“Huh? Why?” he asked as Tzella grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the kitchen door.
She didn’t answer, slapping a hand on the doorframe and quietly hissing two syllables before hip-checking the door open and dragging him through.
Vin blinked. Instead of standing on Big Boss’s deck, outside the kitchen, he found himself in the same corridor of red doors from his dream. “Wait, how—”
Tzella slumped against the doorframe they just came through, her eyes still solid black. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” The air behind her and above her head blurred briefly and Vin caught a glimpse through the warping air of her wings, tail and horns.
“What’s wrong?”
She clenched her teeth and the blurring around her gradually began to subside. Her eyes also slowly shifted back to brown. “I assume your friend bringing three of us to the party was not expected by you either,” she explained without releasing her jaw.
Vin winced; suddenly a lot of things about the last few minutes made sense. “He’s not my friend.”
“Would ‘grossly irresponsible associate’ be better?”
“More true, anyway.” He watched as she began pacing the corridor, which obligingly stabilized in both directions to accommodate her. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”
“Normally no,” she replied. “There are rules governing an… accidental overlap of hunting grounds. Claim belongs to whoever found it first. Even if I am not actively feeding, the three of them should have immediately left on sensing my presence. That they did not is normally an egregious breach of protocol or a direct challenge. I do not think either is the case at the moment.”
“Even if it’s three of them to one of you?”
“It is considered rude if another helps themselves to food from your plate without invitation, correct? Even more so if three other people do?”
Vin chuckled, a childhood memory of an uncle getting stabbed in the hand with a fork at Thanksgiving for doing exactly that coming to mind. “Point taken.”
She continued pacing, frowning irritably. “Something is wrong about all of this, and it has to do with your associate.”
“Unsurprising. Easton did try to warn me he was into shady shit.”
She swore vehemently enough that Vin’s ears tingled despite his enchantment. “They are… not fully sated. Not starving, but still hungry. What I do not understand is how they have not just consumed your fr— associate. Between the three of them, he should be barely conscious, if not expired. He definitely should not be up, walking around and boisterously disrupting parties.”
“So regarding my previous question, the rest of the party is kinda fucked, isn’t it.”
“That might be underselling the situation.” She chuckled humorlessly. “I am going to assume ‘halftime orgy’ is not usually a component of these parties?”
“Ew, no.” He made a face, then shuddered. “Oh God. No no no. I have to work with these people. They have to work with each other. Can we get back there from here?”
“We can, but I am not sure what good that will do.”
“Can you do something similar to what you did here?” Vin put a hand over his tattoo, which was still pulsing unhappily but at least not burning.
She shoved a hand into her hair, clearly forgetting the braid. Snarling, she yanked the ribbon free and shook her head violently. Vin could see tiny sparks of lightning flashing deep within the now loose curls. “How many are up there? Aside from Carl and his… escorts?”
“Five from the hatchery and three plus-ones.”
Her pacing sped up noticeably. “I have a minor advantage due to getting there first, but I cannot shield all of them from three peckish succubi if they are determined enough.”
“Can you protect any of them?”
“Yes.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, exposing a fang. “On my current reserve, I can maybe block four. Five if I overextend myself.”
“Okay.” Vin grimaced. “I’m pretty sure whatever’s going on Carl’s not gonna let his ladyfriends outright kill anybody, ’cause then he’d have to actually work and it takes a long damn time to replace anyone at the hatchery. If a couple of the guys end up having more fun that they bargained for tonight, it probably won’t be the worst. So with that in mind I’d say take the four women out of the equation first. Subramaniam if you can manage it, he’s a good guy and Indira doesn’t deserve this shit. Pell and Jameson don’t have partners, and Big Boss… well. Not fair to Miriam, but he’s cheated on her before.”
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “This will not be pretty. You were easier, because you were already bound to me. And I had time to do things right.”
“Tzella, I’m trying to head an orgy between all my co-workers so I can look the ones I still respect in the eyes tomorrow. Are you seriously freaking out about aesthetics right now?”
“I take your point. Another problem, then; I may have to drain your tattoo of whatever power I gave it to get this done. Which will leave you vulnerable to seduction, but likely untouched. My claim is still on you, regardless.”
He nodded grimly. “Better me than them, I know what I’m in for.”
“I will also be ravenous after,” she added softly.
Vin could feel the blood draining out of his face. Tzella must have also noticed because she put her index finger against his mouth before he could protest. “I won’t ask that of you. But I will need something.“
“More blood, then?”
“it will only deepen the predicament we’re already in, but yes.”
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Okay, yeah. Do what you gotta do.”
“Are you certain?”
Vin clenched his jaw, glaring up at her. “I said what I said,” he forced out, through gritted teeth and a tongue not designed for demonic syllables.
Tzella shook her head, a ghost of a dimple appearing in her cheek. “You are not a wise man.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Vin half-smiled back. “We’ve been over this.”
“Indeed.” Tzella closed her eyes, a stubborn set to her jaw. “Let us do this wildly unwise thing.”
They stepped back into the kitchen as if they truly had just gone outside for a few minutes. The game was well underway at that point and everyone had found a seat in the living room around the TV to watch it and eat. Or at least pretend to. Vin noted some uncomfortable squirming from the guys present besides himself and Carl, Easton sitting unnaturally still, Indira and Miriam watching the TV with unusually intense focus, and Rose not even surreptitiously staring at the blonde in Carl’s lap. Carl, clearly aware of the area of effect his three guests were having on the gathered company, was sitting in the back corner with an absolutely shit-eating grin on his face. He also openly had his hand on the blonde’s barely clothed breast, thumb tracing a slow circle around a rigid nipple through the thin fabric.
“Seriously?” Vin muttered, well under the TV volume.
Tzella shrugged. “She is enjoying the attention.”
“Yeah, but come on, no one here consented to that.”
“True.”
Vin peered out the kitchen doorway, noting blonde number 2 swiping the last handful of cheese and salami off of the charcuterie board, which had somehow been decimated in the few minutes he and Tzella had been gone. She’d also helped herself to a small pile of carrot sticks, playfully licking ranch dressing off of them for the benefit of everyone trying very hard not to obviously stare.
The third was nowhere to be seen. More concerningly, Jameson, formerly in the prime spot in the center of the big living room sectional, was also missing.
Tzella briefly closed her eyes when Vin pointed out the absences, a wry smile twisting her mouth. “He is all right. A bit better than that, even.”
“Are they… no, you know what, I don’t need to know.” Vin grimaced.
“I thought you were allowed to see the Restricted movies?”
“You’re teasing me now of all times?”
“When better?” She glanced out the window at the darkness beyond the deck, made a thoughtful noise, then quietly flipped the switches next to the door down, killing the exterior lights. “Are you ready for this?” she said, unwittingly echoing back Vin’s earlier question.
“Again, nope.” Vin sighed. “Do your thing.”
For something with such grave stakes, actually getting the magic done was kind of anticlimactic. Easton and Rose were first and easiest, Tzella resting her hands on both their shoulders as she asked them something that made Rose giggle and Easton let out a loud bark of laughter. Miriam was also quick, a hand on her back as Tzella eased around her. “Three done,” she said as she circled back to the kitchen doorway.
Vin watched Easton and Rose unconsciously rubbing at the spots where Tzella’s hands had rested. After a moment Miriam joined them, scratching at the equivalent spot on her back. “How are you doing?” he asked.
Tzella’s mouth twisted, and she laid her hand on Vin’s shoulder. “I apologize.”
“It’s fine,” he whispered back, managing a strained smile as he felt his shoulder go silent for the first time since she gave him the tattoo. After a few weeks of hums and throbs and stings, having it feel like an ordinary shoulder again felt wrong, as did the cold dull ache left behind. He was also overwhelmingly aware of Tzella’s proximity and her fingers on his skin, as well as the other three. “Fuck. Be quick?”
She nodded, then made her way to the loveseat where Indira and Subramaniam sat together. “The braid came out,” she said, holding out the ribbon to Indira. When the older woman reached up to take it, she took her hand between both of her own, gently squeezing before releasing both it and the ribbon.
Four, Vin silently counted.
Glad for the distraction, Indira busied herself with fussing the ribbon back into Tzella’s hair, deftly rebraiding it. “You are very patient,” Subramaniam commented when his wife was almost done..
“I am not. But I do not have patience for my hair, so I am glad when someone else wants to make it behave.”
“And there you are.” Indira fashioned a bow at the tail end of the braid before letting it drop heavily against Tzella’s back.
Tzella smiled her thanks as she stood up. She turned to head back to Vin, but either through serendipitous accident or an impressive bit of theater, tripped. Subramaniam caught her immediately, a feat that earned him a round of appreciative applause from the room and no doubt a sigh of relief from Miriam, as Tzella would probably have at least upset, if not broken the glass topped coffee table had she fallen.
Tzella blushed on cue as she righted herself, gripping both of Subramaniam’s hands until her balance was restored. “I am so sorry.”
Subramaniam smiled. “It is nothing. Usually the only pretty girl I get to rescue is my wife.”
Tzella turned a sheepish face to Indira, who laughed. “You’ve given him something to boast about for the next week, so well done. I don’t need rescuing very often anymore.”
“Except when there is a mouse in the kitchen,” Subramaniam teased her.
“Stop it,” Indira retorted, turning pink.
Leaving them to their affectionate fussing, Tzella carefully made her way back toward Vin in the kitchen. “You all right?” he whispered, frowning a little at the visible strain in her face.
Tzella shook her head, sliding one arm over his shoulders and leaning heavily against him, closing her eyes. “Drained. What are they doing?”
It took him a moment to drag his attention away from the feeling of her pressed against him in order to look over at Carl’s armchair, and the languorous blondes draped over it and him. Carl was facing away from Vin and still touching the wriggling succubus in his lap — Gellia? — so Vin couldn’t tell if what had just been done had been noticed. The other one was staring back at him and Tzella with an appraising expression in her otherwise soft face. She smiled when she noticed Vin’s eyes on her, raised her hand in what might have been a subtle salute, then blew him a kiss.
“What happened?” Tzella asked, feeling Vin shiver against her.
“Y’all don’t fuck around when you blow kisses, huh?”
She looked up at that, looking over at the last succubus and narrowing her eyes. “We do not,” she said, her face warring between exhaustion, irritation and amusement. “Outside now?”
On the dark deck out of sight and away from everyone, Tzella dropped into a patio chair, making a small noise of what could have been pain or frustration, Vin couldn’t tell which. “Hey,” Vin whispered, crouching down to her level. “Talk to me.”
“I’m fine.” She chuckled, tiredly. “Just hungry.”
“Yeah, nice trick with the fall in there, by the way. I couldn’t tell if that was on purpose or not.”
Another soft laugh, with neither a confirmation or a denial. Her hand settled on his arm, slowly stroking its way up and leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake, freezing just above his shoulder when she noticed. “Sorry.”
Vin swallowed hard. “It’s fine. Take what you need.”
She cupped the side of his face in her hand for a long moment before snaking her fingers back and up into his hair, pulling him in for a kiss.
Vin whimpered a little when their lips connected, Tzella’s essence rolling through his awareness, strong enough to immediately kill any perception aside from her mouth gently resting against his. The whimper sharpened into a squeak when he felt her tongue teasingly dart between his lips and retreat.
“Oh, fuck this,” he moaned into her mouth, intensely conscious of how badly he wanted to be thoroughly kissed by her. It wasn’t quite the same as the time she’d kissed him before; she’d been quietly in control then. This time she let him take the lead, playfully eluding his tongue as it chased hers. “What is even happening right now?” he murmured, pulling back just enough to breathe, foreheads still pressed together.
“There are four succubi in your immediate vicinity,” she pointed out with a breathless giggle. “One of whom is actively touching you. I am shocked you have not orgasmed from that alone.”
“Honestly, so am I.” Vin closed his eyes, mostly to block out what he could see of the deck and the house as both were swimming a bit, painfully aware of his cock trapped inside his jeans. “Do we need to sneak down to the truck?”
Tzella snarled softly. “Do not tease me right now.”
“I’m serious,” Vin whispered.
There was a silence between them as both weighed the possibility before Tzella sighed, breaking it. “Not now. Not here. Not like this.” She kissed him again before he could protest, this time tearing his lower lip with a quick slash of a canine.
Vin yelped, jerking back as blood flowed down his chin. The noise turned into a moan as Tzella’s tongue delicately traced the blood trailing from the tear down to pool in the hollow at the base of his throat. “God, yes, please.”
He heard her chuckle before she kissed him again, blood and ginger on her tongue, feeling her hand slide up his arm until it covered his shoulder, feeding power back into the tattoo until it began humming again. Gradually his head cleared enough for him to place his hands on her face, gently pushing her back. “You good?”
“Enough,” she answered. “You?”
His hand drifted up to his mouth, knowing he would find it unhurt, but tracing it anyway to make sure. His shoulder didn’t ache anymore either, the lines of his tattoo once again feeling warm and happy as he traced them questioningly. “I think so.”
“Good.” She pulled him back down, this time for a fierce hug. “You are an absolute fool.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Vin retorted, hugging her back, quietly savoring how she felt in his arms. “How much trouble do you think we’re in?”
Tzella chuckled. “An unfathomable amount. This will have repercussions.” She looked up and over his shoulder into the window of the house, checking the TV for the game progress. “I am going to guess the other two aren’t going to make an actual move until halftime, and with the target pool reduced from 10 to 3…”
Vin winced. “Do we go back in and face the music, or do we bounce while we still can?”
“The safer option would be, as you say, to bounce, however I confess I want to see how this plays out. And, given that I probably will not get to feed properly for a bit, I would like to devour my own weight in fried chicken instead. Maybe also try your much vaunted pulled pork.”
Vin laughed as he stood back up, offering her a hand out of her chair. “Feasting on meat and drama it is.”
“Delicious, either way.”
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