FANGED

Chapter Fifty

Before I had a chance to process what was happening, Fang lurched for the Abba twin, and hoisted him up in the air by his throat. His little feet dangling helplessly, losing one of his penny loafers in the process. Which, to be honest, wasn't a tragic loss. Who still wore those?

"How dare you come unannounced into the King's private chambers!" Fang growled loud enough everything in the room trembled from the reverberation. Including yours truly.

"I vas...(gurgle)...sent by Sin...glaaaaargh." The poor minion tried frantically to speak, granted, not very well. But, hey, I gave him points for the effort. It couldn't have been easy with Fang's meaty paw latched around his throat ready to pop his head off like a dandelion.

I hadn't ever witnessed Fang in such a rage before. It was both intriguing and terrifying. The guy had gone off like a suicide bomber in a nitroglycerin factory. Usually, he was always in control, an annoyingly cool cucumber under any circumstance, but right now, anger was radiating out of him in hot, rolling blasts I could feel from where I sat dumbfounded with my mouth hanging open on the bed. It was...sexy as hell.

I gulped hard, my heart thrashed wildly in my chest at the sight of him. His icy eyes glowed with a cold, brutal fury, and his full lips were peeled back in a vicious snarl revealing his long, lethal pointy teeth. His broad naked chest glistened with sweat as it heaved up and down with the ferocity of his growls rumbling through the room. The muscles in his back rippled and twitched as he held Sven...or um...Olaf suspended as high and dry as the last chicken nugget on a kid's all-you-can-eat buffet.

He was a magnificent sight to see, and my beating ovaries totally agreed. But, as much as I was enjoying the spectacle of Fang in full wrath, it seemed a bit in bad taste to be sexually captivated from him choking an immortal the size of a Cabbage Patch doll to death.

Reeling in my runaway hormones, I quickly scrambled off the bed and lunged at his arm. In my haste to save one of the keepers of the vaffles...shit...I mean waffles, I completely spaced the fact I wasn't wearing anything but my delicates. So, there I was, dangling from his bicep like a stripper on a pole. Not exactly my finest moment. Digging in with my heels, I jerked with all my Mighty Mouse might to get him to release the poor immortal, but I was about as effective as a mosquito, and he didn't budge an inch.

"Fang, put him down!" I huffed, throwing all my weight into my effort. Fat lot of good it did me though, his arm remained unmoving.

Narrowed eyes, cold as Frosty's ass, took me in then widen ever so slightly. He seemed baffled, his big body frozen in a Statue of Liberty pose holding the minion aloft like a torch. The only movement was the deep, huffing breaths he took, and the slight flare of his nostrils. I never considered nostril flaring as sexy before, but, right now, you could have drowned a toddler in my panties. It was that hot, and I momentarily forgot what I was doing until the little Swedish guy gurgled.

Oh, yeah...save the waffles. "Put him down! Now!" I said sternly, giving his arm another worthless tug.

He didn't move a muscle. The big oaf simply turned his steely focus back to the minion's face which was turning lovely shades of bright fuschia tinged with blue.

"Why are you not wearing the towel?" he rumbled.

"I...uh...what towel?" His voice was so low, it hummed through me causing me to accidently on purpose rub myself against his hard thigh. It was like humping a telephone pole. I stared up at him, my mind in a fog as I marveled at the beautiful, masculine sight he made. I don't know what the heck had gotten into me, but right now, I freaking wished it was him.

"The towel you need to be wearing to cover yourself, Red," he growled from deep within his chest.

"Oh...my. I mean...oh...that towel." I looked over my shoulder at the discarded terry cloth and shrugged. "I was in a hurry to save you from killing Olaf," I explained, giving his arm another heave as a reminder.