Prim and Proper Fate (Twisted Fate Series Book 2)

by Tami Lund

  Prim waved, rendering him momentarily speechless. “Stop being deliberately crude,” she said primly. “That isn’t at all what I’m saying. It was nice, Brandon. It was more than nice. It was . . . What are you doing?”

  He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his arms. Brushing his hand across her breast, he was both turned on and relieved when her breath hitched. He shoved his thigh against her legs, nudging them apart, and then he slipped his hand around to her lower back, pressing, so the juncture of her thighs rubbed along the front of his hard, muscled thigh.

  “Oh my.” Prim’s voice was breathy. He watched her eyes glaze over. With desire. For him. He hadn’t been wrong, after all. He suspected his own eyes were glowing as he bent his head and nibbled at her neck.

  “Oh yeah,” he responded, slipping his hand under the hem of her skirt. She hadn’t yet replaced her panties. “Hell yeah,” he said, right before he claimed her mouth.

  “Bedroom,” she gasped a moment later, and she grabbed his hand and all but dragged him the remaining few feet to the door. But when she flung open the door, they found the room was already occupied. At least this time, Gaya was only having sex with one man.

  Prim closed the door and stepped over to the one next to it. When she opened that door, a strong odor of sweaty socks slapped them in the face. Mounds of clothing were strewn over the floor, dirty dishes piled on the nightstand. There weren’t even sheets on the bed, which was no more than two mattresses on the floor, the top one covered with questionable stains.

  “I can’t do that,” she said, her voice appalled.

  “Come on.” Brandon tugged her down the hall. He pushed open the next door and discovered a relatively clean bathroom. He turned, winked at Prim, and then pulled her into the room after him.

  He turned again and pushed her up against the door, lifting her by the thighs so her feet left the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he reached underneath them and fumbled with the snap on his jeans. As he worked to free himself from the constraints of his pants, Prim pulled his head down to hers and kissed him, biting his lower lip and then running her tongue along the same place.

  “Fu— Damn— Dang it,” Brandon stuttered as he continued to struggle with his zipper with one hand while the other mauled Prim’s breast. “I can’t even fucking think right now.”

  He gave up trying not to swear. His brain couldn’t work that hard when Prim’s mile-long legs were wrapped around his waist, her sweet spot wide open and inviting him in. He could smell the scent of her arousal, feel her own desperation. She needed this as much as he did. It was a heady and fucking hot as hell realization.

  He groaned when he finally freed himself from his jeans and boxers. “I need this. I need you. I need . . . ah-h-h.” He thrust once, impaling her. He wrapped his arms around her back and buried his face into the crook of her neck as she arched and keened her pleasure at the invasion.

  She wiggled impatiently and Brandon’s hips automatically began to piston into her. “I can’t–I can’t–Fates, I can’t—” He desperately tried to hold off his orgasm. When had he become such a pitiful youngling, with no self-control? He hadn’t had this problem in centuries.

  “Yes,” Prim blurted. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Don’t stop!” She lifted her hips, taking him deeper, and harder, and deeper still, and then her orgasm welled and exploded. She shrieked and Brandon lost all semblance of control as he pounded into her two more times before chasing her over the edge.

  “One of these times, I’d like to get you out of your clothes before we do this,” he mumbled a short time later, when a semblance of coherent thought finally returned to his head. He felt so damn good at the moment, his entire body tingled with pleasure. He wondered if it was the result of having sex with a Fate, and then he quickly dismissed that thought.

  It was Prim. Didn’t matter what she was. They fit together. They were perfect together. Another thought slammed into him and left him suddenly chilled.

  “Shit. We haven’t used any protection.”

  Sadness sliced through his mind as Prim shook her head. “No need to worry,” she reassured him in a dull voice. “My reproductive organs died when I did. Fates cannot get with child.”

  “Oh.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He’d never really thought much about carrying on his bloodline, but Prim’s sadness was so palpable, he found himself wishing they could have a baby together.

  There was a knock on the door and Brandon called out, “Somebody’s in here.”

  “Hurry up,” a feminine voice called through the door. “I have to go!”

  Prim’s body stiffened for a moment, and then she pushed at Brandon’s chest. He reluctantly let her go and tucked himself back into his pants. Prim turned away from him and cleaned herself up before straightening her skirt and pushing her hair out of her face. She looked thoroughly fucked, which turned Brandon on all over again. He wisely did not point it out, knowing her well enough already to know she would not appreciate what he considered a compliment.

  “I’m a mess,” she said, staring into the mirror.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  He felt the shimmer of magic and watched as her face transformed from radiantly glowing to subdued beauty. “We cannot let Lily know what we were doing in here.”

  Brandon arched his brows. “Why not? Not that I’m into broadcasting my relationships, but what’s the big deal?”

  “This is not a relationship.”

  His own anger pushed against the strange sensation of regret flitting through his head. “What the hell do you call it?”

  “I just don’t want her to know we’ve had sex.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Embarrassed? Because you’re fucking a shifter?”

  “I am not fucking a shifter,” Prim said tartly.

  “I like the way you say fucking,” Brandon taunted, thoroughly pissed off now. “Makes me hot.”

  “Shut up, Brandon, or I’ll do it for you. And if you tell her what we just did . . .”

  He gave her a disgusted look and then jerked the door open. Lily stood on the other side, dancing like a three-year-old. Her eyes widened when she saw both Prim and Brandon standing in the bathroom.

  “I cut myself,” Brandon said shortly, as he stormed past her. “She was healing me.”

  “In the bathroom?” Lily wanted to know.

  He heard Prim respond, “Remember, Lily. These are humans. We cannot do anything in front of them to lead them to believe we are not also human.”

  Fucking prim and proper Fate.

  Prim spent the rest of the evening and most of the night trying to push Brandon and Lily together, to absolutely no avail. While Lily and Sydney had the time of their lives hanging over the side of the balcony railing, trying to coax revelers and the float attendants to toss beads their way, Brandon showed no interest in the display, other than to keep his protective gaze on the two Chala at all times. Prim was reasonably certain that if she asked him Lily’s eye color, he would have no idea. He paid her only as much attention as one would pay to someone they felt compelled to protect, and no more. There appeared to be no spark between the two of them.

  Unlike the flame that had roared to life in her own body. Even when she had been human and had fallen in love, Prim hadn’t felt this–this insatiable desire to be with the man. It was almost alarming how desperately she craved Brandon. Actually, it wasn’t almost alarming at all. It was downright frightening.

  Yet she persisted in trying to push him together with her Chala. Prim’s Fate training was too ingrained for her to ignore completely. Her job, her goal, her purpose was to find a match for Lily. To ensure she mated to a Light One who would both protect her and provide her with a plethora of baby Chala and Light Ones. Together, she and
Brandon would repopulate the species, as once Gavin had hoped to do with Sydney. Prim spared a moment to wish Rakshasa and Chala could reproduce. That would certainly make everyone’s lives easier.

  Eventually, the parades were over and the revelers were pushed into their collective habitats by the street sweepers, and still the party continued in the overly decorated apartment on Bourbon Street. William stood before the blender, providing a steady stream of hurricanes, and one of the humans disappeared at one point, returning lugging a pot full of steaming boiled crawfish. Even Brandon dug in with relish.

  By the time everyone crashed for the night, no one seemed to mind that the sleeping arrangements were haphazard at best. Gaya disappeared into a bedroom with Freddie, the human she’d glommed herself to for the evening. Zack and William disappeared into a bedroom at the end of the hall, and a sloppy human named Tommy disappeared into the messy bedroom that Prim had refused to enter earlier in the evening. A fourth human, whose name was Butch, fell asleep in an easy chair, and Brandon, Sydney, Prim, and Lily were left to their own devices. They discovered one of the couches opened out into a bed, and while the cleanliness of the sheets was questionable, at that point, not even Prim cared. Brandon situated himself on a much-too-small loveseat, and all three women collapsed onto the lumpy mattress together. It was after four a.m. by the time Prim finally closed her eyes and allowed her mind to shut down for the night.

  Gavin stalked down a deserted Bourbon Street and paused under a wrought iron balcony. He’d been up all night, wandering the streets, searching, trying to find that damn Chala. She was here, somewhere. He could feel her. Which was, frankly, fucking annoying. He didn’t want to feel anybody—or anything. Anything but the thrill of the kill. He needed to kill her for no other reason than to get these damn feelings out of his head.

  Tired and irritated, he was about to give up and find a place to crash when something caused him to lift his face and sniff the air. An intriguing scent mingled with the various other smells of alcohol, sugar sweeteners, and leftover crawfish shells. Curiosity piqued, he studied the brick building for a moment, then stepped onto a nearby fire hydrant, grabbed the metal column supporting the balcony, and climbed up until he could reach the railing. He pulled himself up and over the bars surrounding the balcony, and then stood there, breathing deeply.

  Chala. His Chala. Irritated at himself, he shook the thought from his head. She wasn’t his. She was a Chala, and Chala were meant to be killed. Destroy the Chala, destroy the Light Ones. Leave the humans unprotected, lambs to the wolves known as Rakshasa. Never mind he’d somehow lost the taste for human flesh. His fellow Rakshasa still craved them, still hunted them, were still thwarted by those bastard Light Ones. He’d trained them too damn well while he’d been under that bloody curse.

  Reaching for the French door, he discovered someone had forgotten to lock it. Lucky him. He slipped through the open door and into a cluttered living area. His own apartment up in Detroit had become as messy and sloppy as this place, and it was another irritant. Which frustrated him all over again because before he’d been cursed, he hadn’t given two shits what his living space looked or felt like. That fucking Fate had completely and utterly screwed with his mind when she’d cursed him all those years ago. As soon as he killed the Chala, he’d go find that damn Fate and kill her, too. It wouldn’t do any good, of course, but he’d get pleasure out of the act, if nothing else.

  He would, wouldn’t he? The memory of running into Harmony, the human who had been his fuck buddy before he’d taken up with the Chala, invaded his mind and made him uneasy. Rakshasa weren’t supposed to feel uneasy about the death of a human, yet Gavin did. She hadn’t even died at his hands, but he’d been there, and he hadn’t stopped it, and goddamn it if he didn’t feel a sliver of guilt. It wasn’t possible the curse still lingered, was it?

  No. There was no magic coursing through his body save his own. All his own. The desire to save, to help, to make a positive difference in the world, that was all gone. Only his Rakshasa urges remained.

  A human lay in a reclined easy chair, snoring loudly. A shifter sprawled on a love seat that was too, too small for his overlarge form. Brandon. The one who had tried to kill him, and then the Chala saved him, and then she saved this one, too. She was the opposite of Gavin, always trying to save the whole damn world. Stupid Chala.

  Satisfied the Light One was deeply asleep and as yet unaware of his presence, Gavin focused on his prey. By the time Brandon woke, she would be dead, or close to it. Gavin was tired of this game. He needed to kill her so he would stop feeling all the other shit bouncing around in his head. Urges to couple with her instead of kill her made no sense, not to a Rakshasa. Never once in his long, long life had he given consideration to fucking a Chala, not until the Fate put that damn curse on him.

  Speaking of the Fate . . .

  There she was, lying together with his Chala and some other dark-haired woman. All three were sound asleep on a pullout sofa sleeper. Gavin studied the unknown woman, trying to figure out what she was. She wasn’t human. A female Light One, he supposed. Why had they brought her to New Orleans with them? The rest were in Arkansas, waiting for this charade to end, so they could head on to Michigan and settle there, for the long term. Or at least until Gavin gathered a pack of Rakshasa and headed up to destroy them.

  Dismissing the rest, he focused on his prize. His Chala.

  “Goddamn it,” he muttered out loud. “Not mine.” He hated these thoughts, the push and pull, this strange urge not to kill her. It didn’t make sense, and it pissed him off.

  He reached out and memories of his time with her swamped his head and stilled his hand. The curse was gone, so it was bloody annoying that he was not entirely able to control the impulse to want to fuck her. But then he chuckled to himself.

  Of course he wasn’t able to control those impulses. He was a Rakshasa. They were conscience-less, ruthless, and determined to do whatever the hell they wanted, anytime, anywhere. Looking at it from that perspective, he could see why he would still want to fuck the fresh-faced blond Chala. She had been damn good in the sack.

  Unfortunately, he was also a smart shifter, and he knew better than to waste precious time with a Light One lightly snoring nearby. He wouldn’t even have it in before the blond bastard would have his paws wrapped around Gavin’s neck. No. Best to just kill her and move on. Besides, once she was gone, he was certain all these screwed up, almost positive urges would leave his system, and he could fully focus on being, once again, a Rakshasa. He lifted his arm and it shimmered into a long, black-fur-covered animal leg, complete with razor sharp, black claws.

  Prim’s eyes fluttered open and she screamed as she launched herself at Gavin’s furry arm, knocking his aim askew. He missed Sydney completely, but he grazed Lily’s forehead. Blood welled from the wound along her hairline, and she opened her eyes and cried out in pain. Brandon’s eyes popped open and both he and Gavin sniffed the air.

  “Two Chala,” Gavin said, his voice full of delightful malice. His gaze locked onto Lily, who cowered away from him. “The Fate has been holding out on me. So kind of you to bring them together now, though. This kill is going to be even more delicious than I expected.” He stuck his claw into his mouth and sucked the blood coating it.

  “M-mm,” he said as his eyes glowed brightly.

  Brandon launched himself at Gavin. On impact, both men shifted into animal form and slammed onto the floor in a snarling heap of fur and claws and teeth. They rolled around, banging into furniture and making enough noise to wake the dead, although the human continued to snore away in a nearby chair.

  Brandon managed to get the upper hand for a moment and flung Gavin away from him. He shifted back into human form long enough to shout, “Curse him, Prim!” And then he shifted back into the form of a giant mastiff-like dog and dove. He and Gavin met in midair, colliding with a painful sounding
thud before crashing to the floor and wrestling again.

  Prim positioned herself in front of Sydney and Lily and held up her hand, waiting for the right opportunity to curse Gavin. She did not want to miss and hit Brandon instead. Whatever the curse did to him, it would most certainly throw him off guard enough for Gavin to get the upper hand and kill him. And Prim refused to let that happen.

  The two animals rolled around the living room and slammed into the wall near the closest bedroom. Brandon managed to climb onto Gavin’s back and roll him over, exposing his stomach to Prim. Now or never. She summoned the magic, whispered the words to create the curse, and then flung it.

  The human named Freddie chose that moment to walk out of his bedroom, stirred, no doubt, by the sounds of fighting in his living room. “What the hell is going—” He didn’t get to finish the sentence as the curse hit him square in the chest.

  His eyes widened and even Gavin and Brandon stopped fighting long enough to watch the transformation, as the curse soaked into his blood stream and poured through his system. There was a moment of utter silence, and then a heartbeat later, Freddie screamed and clutched his head. He screamed again and then stumbled around the room, clawing at his head, his face, his chest, and begging, “Make it stop, please make it stop, oh God, make it stop!”

  Gavin shifted into human form and with a snarl said, “No way in hell I’m letting you do that to me again.” He twisted around and grabbed Brandon’s head with both hands.

  “No,” Prim screamed as she reached out for the two shifters.

  But Sydney was faster. “Gavin, no,” she shouted as she leaped from the couch and landed on his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed.