He couldn’t decide whose emotions belonged to whom. Was he annoyed, or was it his human host—who should be dead—feeling conflicted? In any case, he took a pull from his beer and tried to not slam his hand into the wall. His fraternity brothers were paying all kinds of attention to Alexandra just as he’d asked them to do. She giggled at something one of them said and flipped her hair over her shoulder. He’d taught her how to flirt the night before and had been hard as a rock ever since. His balls ached so badly he thought they might fall off. This was a special kind of torture inflicted on the human male. It must have been sent up from hell as some kind of joke. With another long pull of his drink, he turned his attention to Mellee. She stared at Alexandra with so much hate in her eyes she might explode from it. He knew hate, knew it well. It had been his bread and butter growing up. A wave of sadness surged through him, and he almost dropped his drink.
