“The fact that I can see your pulse poundin’ in your throat, love,” he purred, and leaned down to give me a kiss. At the last moment, he jerked his head back and licked my nose instead before hopping backwards out of arm’s reach.
The sober-ish one was screaming, trying to reload his gun, dropping bullets in his fear, and the pungent scent of his terror was thick on the air. He managed to get one shot off, which was a mistake. The bullet didn’t even slow Seamus down – but it did piss the rest of them off. […]