The vampire was pacing an invisible line between the piano and Tristan. They’d been arguing. But if Ash had said anything important in the past few minutes Tristan hadn’t heard a single word of it. He was too busy being distracted by the not so subtle outfit she had chosen for herself this evening. She was wrapped neck to ankle in a skin tight black leather jumpsuit, hugging every curve she had. And she had plenty of those. A custom gun holster with two guns was strung through a wide leather belt that sat low on her narrow hips and over her small shoulders. Her beautifully decorated katana was tied on too. Tristan thought she was like a ninja Catwoman. Crazy sexy. Before the pair even got this point in their evening—him with the unhappy glare, Ash with the pacing—Ash had Haruka steal Tristan’s suitcase. He emerged from the shower to find only a pair of leather pants in his room. Yeah, he didn’t own leather pants. And the worst part, she didn’t even bother to leave him any boxers.
