“Ugh, my friend, you really need a breath mint,” I told him, sending a pulse of glamour into the brambly monster above me. “Let’s see what we can do about that doggie breath.”

“We humans can never claim to do nothing, we breath, we pulse, we regenerate.”

“I caught his hand. “What do you want me to do?”Leaning down, he kissed the pulse beating on my neck just above the damaged skin. “Tomorrow, I need you to die.”

“I drove 30 miles to buy some breath mints before I realized I had some already in my pocket. Then it took me another 30 minutes to figure out they weren’t breath mints at all—they were aspirins.”

“Chloe, wake up. I really, really, really need to pee.”I moan and sink deeper into Jorge’s arms, pulling my hand back.“Chloe, wake up. I’m dying here. I have to pee.”Ugh, why won’t that voice go away? I crack my eyes open and see Ringo by the bed prancing around doing the doggy version of a potty dance.Ringo starts prancing toward the bedroom door. “Thank goodness. I’ve got to go.”

“He grabbed the count's hand to check his pulse, and I held my breath. The count wouldn't have a pulse. Or a heartbeat. Or a breath.”