It would sometimes put me to sleep, that easy, swaying motion. I’d watch the sunlight reflect off the glass and cast prisms over my skin. Twenty years later and he’s still using the same packaging. Clearly, Rumpel hasn’t heard that both millennials and Gen Z’ers like their products to be catered to them specifically. So old-fashioned.
“Instead, we have this lovely mix of Rumpel’s raw magic and blood. Hold out your hand.” I do as Sorrow asks and present my palm, shivering as he takes it in one careful hand and rubs his thumb over my knuckles. “You won’t even need a spinning wheel. How incredible is that? Magic’s progressed just as far and fast as technology. He uses his teeth to uncork the little bottle, the stopper and the brush attached to it reminiscent of nail polish. Oddly enough, it smells like it, too, this burning chemical stink mixed with the coppery sweetness of blood.
Sorrow sets the bottle on the desk and then removes the stopper from his teeth, never letting go of my hand in the process. He paints my skin with the gold liquid, leaves it shimmering like gold leaf across the flesh. I use every ounce of me that is vampire to stay perfectly still, refusing to let my fingers switch in the slightest, or my hand to tremble.
Those blue eyes of Sorrow’s bore into me as he paints with an agonizing slowness that makes my teeth hurt and my cunt clench in anticipation. I was planning to hit the castle up after this, but maybe there’s a little extra time for a romp in the hay. Get it. Because straw and hay are basically the same shit, right?
Sorrow paints my entire left hand gold, from my fingertips to my wrist, each stroke of the brush a sensual kiss against my heated flesh. When he’s finished, we switch hands and start all over again. By the time Sorrow’s finished, the room is thick with desire; it lands in a dark haze over everything.
“Done,” he says, letting go of me and stepping back. His grin as he replaces the stopper in the bottle is priceless, smug asshole male all the way. “Keep this with you for when the magic runs low.” Sorrow hands the bottle to me and I slip it inside my purse. “As long as the contract is valid—which will be forever as long as you hold true on your end—this bottle will fill with magic. Just paint your hands the way I’ve done, and you’ll be able to touch straw...and turn it into gold.”
“Well, that was easy,” I quip as Sorrow steps even closer to me and puts one of his hands on either of my upper arms. Heat races through me, invading every inch of my body from my painted fingertips down to the toes I stuffed in some ridiculous four-inch black heels so my ass would look even better in these pants.
“That wasn’t the hard part,” he jokes as he takes one of my golden hands and places it over the bulge in his crotch. Gold flakes peel from my flesh and drift in the air like autumn leaves.
“Wow, what a line,” I scoff, giving the bulge a slight squeeze before stepping back and rubbing my hands together to rid them of the rest of the gold paint. “But I’ve decided I’m going to give this new power a test run before I participate in any of the, uh, other requirements.”
“No need to leave for that,” Wolfe barks out, grabbing a small paper bag from inside the desk drawer and handing it over to me. I take it as he rolls up the contract and sticks it into a metal tube. I have no idea where it goes or what he does with it, but I don’t really care. I’m as bound to that piece of paper as I am to any other that I’ve signed in the past. Only a sense of obligation and duty keeps me from reneging on those. And to be quite frank, it doesn’t keep me from doing it often.
I yank a handful of the straw from the bag and stare at it as it warms and melts in my fingers, dripping in big molten drops to the carpet. Each drop...has the same shiny shimmer of metal.
“Sorry about the floor,” I whisper as the liquid oozes between my fingertips. “Not positive that there’s any surefire way to get gold stains out of carpet.”
“I’m sure the worth of the actual gold on the carpet itself will cover the cost of the repair,” Vyce purrs as I wait for the metal to cool, and peel the strange shape off my fingers. I drop the lump of metal on the desk, three tall, dark, and handsome vampires standing in a half-circle around me.
Three vampires that I’ll be sharing a bed with...at least until I’m officially crowned queen. And then, well, then we’ll see what happens after that. Eventually, they’ll figure out they aren’t getting a baby from me.
Rumpel might come.
Deep down, I realize I might have ulterior motives.
Rumpel will come. The Rumpel that charged my mother her only child in exchange for saving her life, sent her on the run, and then had her killed years later. Because it could’ve only been him. Who else would’ve had the motive to order my mother ripped limb from limb in her own home?
There’s even a chance the three guys in front of me were the ones that did it.
I exhale sharply and roll the top of the paper bag down.
“I’m off to see the king,” I say and then pause. “Well, really I’m off to see my friend Harry for a celebratory drink and then I’m off to see the king. Wish me luck.”
I get to the bottom of the stairs before I glance back and find all three of them following me.
“Somebody said drinks,” Vyce says, his eyes heavy and half-lidded. The way he’s looking at me, I can tell he’s eager to move beyond drinks and onto the next stage of this deal. To be honest, I feel the same way.
But I want to see them hold up their end of the bargain before I go through with mine.
“Shall we walk together?” Vyce asks, sliding his arm around one of mine. Sorrow takes up the other side, and I narrow my eyes. But it’s all for show. I’m just enjoying having two sexy men on either side of me. One smells like sour candy, and the other like smoke and ash. “So. What are your plans after you become queen of House Verenim?”
“Plans?” I ask with a snort. Because it’s always easier to play the snarky little shit than it is to admit to any real hopes and dreams. Would I like to live in a world where dhampir are treated better? Sure. Would I like to rid the world of a piece of shit like Rumpel Stiltz? Fuck yeah. But one step at a time, and I learned a long time ago to look after number one first. Me. I need to take care of me. “Who says I have plans? I explained my motivation to you already.”
“Sounds like a load of shit to me,” Wolfe growls from behind me. I pause and unhook my arms from the other two vamps, so I can turn and face the a-hole. His gray eyes meet mine with challenge, and there’s an animosity in his expression that I just can’t reconcile.
“You know what sounds like a load of shit to me?” I snarl back, reaching out and poking a finger into his chest. Wolfe snatches my wrist in mid-air, locking his fingers around my wrist. Holy hell. Heat surges through me, causing my nipples to pucker, my thighs to clench. When we finally do fuck, it’s going to be intense. “You, a fucking turned vamp treating me like dirt on the bottom of your shoes. You should know better than that.”
“He treats everyone like shit,” Sorrow explains, but I don’t pull my gaze from Wolfe’s. Maybe the fucker with the short, dark hair and the stormy eyes and the mad revolver skills treats everyone else like shit. But that’s not going to fly with me.
“You have to sleep with me. Don’t you think you oughta be nicer?”
“It wasn’t my idea,” Wolfe snaps back. “And I’m only required to do it three times, so thankfully it’ll be over quick.” The last word whips off his tongue and hits me right in the face. It feels like a physical blow as he storms around me, his long brown trench billowing out behind him as he runs up and grabs onto the edge of a building to haul himself up.
Easiest way for vamps to travel—over rooftops.
“Three times?” I ask as both Sorrow and Vyce exchange looks. I catch the tail end of it as I turn around. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Why don’t we discuss it over drinks?” Vyce says, voice low and dark, his fingers teasing through his multi-colored hair. His blood-red eyes make it obvious that he isn’t human, but with the amount of sway vamps have over hum
ans, it doesn’t matter. He can convince anyone he speaks to that his eyes are blue or green or brown without even trying. Vampires roll people even when they don’t mean to.
Fuck, Harry’s going to have a field day with this, I think as I storm past the boys and follow along behind Wolfe, leaping rooftops with smooth, easy bunches of my muscles. It’s as simple for me as a human on a morning jog.
By the time I smash down in front of The Dragonfly, I’m not even winded, the other two men landing softly behind me, as light as air. They’re a hell of a lot more graceful than I am, that’s for sure.
We head inside, and Harry catches my eye right away. He’s got that mm-hmm look on his face that says he wishes he could vault over this bar and strangle me for being an idiot. Instead of taking my usual stool, I follow Wolfe the Fuck-Head to the back corner and sit in the seat right next to him.
“What’s your poison, Wolfe Stiltz?” I growl out, refusing to back down. I wanted to have a quick drink with my bestie and then sweep into the castle wearing a fucking ribbed tank and leather pants, and take the crown that Vesnic never thought he’d have to give away. But now I have a point to prove.
I’m not afraid of this crotchety motherfucker.
“Gin and tonic,” he says and I snort. “You have a problem with that?” he snarls, leaning down close to me. I bet he thinks he’s intimidating, and maybe to a lot of people, he is. But not to me. Not even close.
“That’s an old people drink.” I turn to Miri as she approaches the table. “Give us four Heartbeats,” I say and the ogre waitress raises her dark green brows at me, her emerald green hair braided and hanging over one shoulder.
“You sure about that?” she asks, and I narrow my eyes. “Okay, okay, it’s your funeral.” She tucks the silver tray against her chest and turns away, heading for the bar as I lean back in my chair. Vyce sits right next to me, so close that our arms brush together. A touch as simple as that shouldn’t have my mind in the gutter and yet all I can think about is him driving his cock inside of me, piercing me with his teeth.
“What’s a Heartbeat?” Sorrow asks as Wolfe sits back and crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at the wall next to the bar. He’s one of those anal retentive assholes that’s wound so tight he needs a fucking muscle relaxer to take a shit. What a prick. And yet...I’m strangely intrigued.
Yeah, I have a problem.
And Harry knows it, his dark eyes locking onto mine from across the bar. He looks like he’s this close to drugging my drink and then locking me in the wine cellar downstairs until I come to my senses.
“Six different kinds of blood, six different kinds of liquor. Costs like five hundred bucks a piece. I hope one of you has money to spend because I sure don’t.”
Wolfe snorts at me and shakes his head, like I’m too fucking ridiculous to even deal with right now.
“What sort of blood?” Vyce purrs as I flick my attention his way. He’s sex incarnate, this guy, and he knows it. He’s dangerous as hell, too, a bundle of barely restrained violence under a smooth, unnervingly handsome exterior.
“Angel, fae, demon, human, siren, and dragon.”
“Whoa,” Sorrow whistles, leaning back and running his fingers through his hair. “No wonder they cost so damn much. I bet the rush is sick though.”
“Makes you feel like you can take over the world,” I reply, crossing my arms behind my head and watching as the late night crowd trickles in, an interesting mix of species that wouldn’t normally co-exist in the same place. But we all have one thing in common: we hate humans. Well, I don’t. But most everyone that isn’t human, does. “Now tell me about this three time’s a charm rule?” I ask, and Vyce and Sorrow both turn to Wolfe.
“She was going to find out eventually,” he growls as I raise an eyebrow. He meets my stare, not even bothering to sugarcoat the news he’s about to deliver. And fuck if he doesn’t smell like pine trees. Reminds me of those corny green candles Mom used to burn around Christmas. God, I miss her. “Three days of spinning for the king gets you the crown. Well, Rumpel doesn’t like to take chances, and he believes in the magic of numbers. Three days, three men, three fucks. He’s blessed us all with fertility magic. If we couple with you three times, you’re guaranteed to get pregnant by one of us.”
My mouth drops open, and if I weren’t infertile, I’d be sweating buckets right now.
“That’s bullshit! That’s not in the contract!”
At least Sorrow has the decency to cringe and look chagrined.
“We were bound not to say anything before you signed. But what does it matter? At least it limits the number of times you have to have us in your bed.” He winks at me and I scowl, noticing that Harry’s bringing our drinks over, not Miri.
“These are pricey drinks. I want payment before I hand them over.” He stands there with his tray on one big palm and gives me a look that clearly says you’re fucking insane and I’m here to give you one last chance at an out.
“I signed the contract today,” I tell him, and all three vamps look like they’re about to shit their pants. “What? Harry’s my BFF, aren’t ya, Harry?”
“Two grand or no drinks,” he snarls as I sigh. Once I waltz back in here with the crown and an entourage, he’ll forgive me. He just has to.
“Here,” Vyce says, passing over a shiny gold credit card. The Three Wishes card. It’s the most common form of currency with supernaturals nowadays, but you’ll never hear of a human that knows a damn thing about it. There’s an entire economy running beneath the surface of the world that humanity knows nothing about. Mostly, supes trade in blood, sex, and favors, but occasionally a charge card’ll do.
Harry tucks the card in his apron and passes out the drinks from his tray.
“You are playing a dangerous fucking game,” he growls in my ear, one of his tusks brushing my lobe slightly. Vyce sees and goes completely stiff, waiting until Harry moves away to make eye contact with me. Personally, I’m more interested in the fact that the guy’s bitching about dangerous games and yet he pauses to hit on an ogre girl with a pure-blooded ogre boyfriend.
“For fuck’s sake,” I growl, and Vyce turns to see what I’m looking at. When he turns back to me, I can see that he’s tense as fuck. “Sip your drink,” I tell him, just before I do the same and feel that sharp whiplash in my brain that says holy fuck, what are you drinking?! The alcohol fuzzes my thoughts right away, and the blood surges through me, making my limbs burn and ache. And that’s from one sip. Imagine how good I’ll feel after the whole damn pint.
“That’s your boyfriend?” Vyce asks quietly, and it takes almost a whole moment for his question to sink in. When it does, I throw my head back and laugh, drawing the attention of most everyone in the bar.
“Harry? Fuck no. We couldn’t be less attracted to each other. He’s my bestie. Don’t you have a friend like that? One that worries too much about you while you do the same about them and yet never take each other’s advice? That’s a true BFF right there.”
“My job doesn’t exactly allow for friends,” Vyce says, his eyelids drooping, blood-red irises shimmering with sex. I turn away from him and put my straw in my mouth. Harry serves everything with straws—beer, wine, Scotch. He’s just weird like that. I’ve come to appreciate it though. It’s easier to suck shit down with a straw, and it takes a boatload of alcohol to get me drink, soooo straw. Yup. I’m a serious straw fan now.
“Shame,” I choke after another wave of Heartbeat euphoria sweeps over me. As soon as I drink down that second sip, my skin gets this tight, achy feeling. Like, I just need to be touched. If I had a jacket on, I’d shed it, kind of like Sorrow and Wolfe are doing now. Wolfe makes a face and glances away sharply, like the thought of friends and loneliness and all that shit is really getting to him. “Oh, so you do have some humanity left in you?” I tease as I spin to face him, my knee bumping against his.
As soon as that happens, I see the bare skin on his arms prickle with goose bumps, and I smile.
“I was turned when I was three years old. I was never really human.”
“Pathetic excuse,” I say as I pull my drink close and Wolfe does the same. I notice he doesn’t use the straw, downing almost half of it one go and shivering as he licks shiny red blood from his lips. Fuck, that’s hot. I have the strongest urge to kiss this uptight asshole, just so I can see what he does. And even if this drink also tastes just like gin and tequila, I bet Wolfe will somehow taste amazing. The mean ones always do. I think they have to taste sweet or they’d never get laid. “I’m a dhampir, you’re a turned vamp, we’re natural allies.”
“Not really,” he growls out, his gray eyes dropping to my cleavage. He turns away almost as soon as he does it, but when I see that, I know. He wants me. He fucking wants me. Wow. Some cold, cruel asshole this guy he is. I thought he’d be a tougher nut to crack. “This is all business for me. And frankly, Vyce deserves to be king of House Stiltz. I’m not even sure why I’m here.”
“Aw, low blow,” Sorrow growls out, but he’s grinning. “You’re probably right. Vyce would make the perfect king. And come on, we’ve been a team for almost ten years now. All for one and one for all, right?”
“Rumpel must have big plans if being a king isn’t at the top of his list,” I say, but none of the guys answer me on that one. Fine. I didn’t really expect them to. Instead, I drop a hand on Wolfe’s knee, just for fun.
His eyes flick up to mine and his nostrils flare.
“I have to pee,” I say, standing up suddenly and swaying my leather-covered ass down the long dark hall to the bathroom.
I barely make it in the door when a huge body is pressing me forward and slamming it closed behind us. Wolfe locks the door as I glance over my shoulder, noticing that his hands are already at the button of his jeans, freeing the thick, hard length of his cock.
Stiltz (Once Upon a Harem Book 3) Page 9
