by Lily Cahill
“He’s a pixie, though, right? He could have just magicked the stuff away.”
Ramona nodded begrudgingly. “I guess that’s true. Although he’d need a lot of power, to be as thorough as he was, and usually pixies aren’t that powerful. Their talents are more…alchemical, than anything else.”
“Well, he’s a half-pixie. His mom is human.”
“You seem to know the Maxwell’s pretty well.”
Blayze blinked, the picture of innocence. “That’s just what I’ve heard.”
The look on Ramona’s face clearly said that she had guessed about his little extracurricular visits to see Zeke, and the reasons he knew so much about the Maxwell pixies.
She rolled her eyes at him, and then pushed by, stepping inside. The bell above the door went off, and then a second time as he followed her in.
“I’ll be right with you!” A voice called out from the back.
“Take your time!” Blayze called back. Ramona glared at him, and he shrugged. “What?”
“Nothing, just…I should probably handle this.”
He didn’t have time to ask her why, as a short man appeared out from the back room. He was definitely pixie, and the blood of it was strong in him. His cat-eyes were a dark, dark green, his hair a shocking shade of orange.
Mr. Maxwell stopped in his tracks when he noticed his two guests.
“Mr. Dragomir,” he said, with a slight bow. “Miss…”
“Jones. We’re here because we would like to talk to your son.”
Mr. Maxwell went an alarming shade of pink which clashed horribly with his hair. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Zeke isn’t here. He went … out. With friends.” His eyes narrowed. “And why do you need to see him, anyway?”
Ramona produced a business card seemingly from nowhere and handed it over. Mr. Maxwell studied it as she continued to speak.
“I’m a private investigator hired by Felicity Valdez to determine the exact cause of her sister’s illness. Joy claims that she bought the product that made her ill from your son, so we’d like to—“
“My son does not deal drugs.” Mr. Maxwell said it so vehemently that Blayze actually believed that the man believed what he was saying. He thought that everyone was lying about his son. The conversation was less than a minute old, and already Blayze was certain they would get nothing out of Mr. Maxwell.
Instead of battling with the old man about his son’s alleged activities, Ramona changed tack. Her shoulders went softened and went round, her eyes got wider. She looked suddenly young, innocent. Watching her be so devious was…a bit of a turn on, if Blayze was honest with himself.
He hadn’t thought she had it in her. He kind of liked that he’d been wrong. Or, if his hardening cock was to be believed, he really really liked it. Ramona Jones had managed to surprise him—again!—and it wasn’t even mid-afternoon yet.
“Sir, I understand that. But I just need to get to the bottom of what happened. If I could only talk to him, even for a minute, I might be able to figure out why Joy Valdez is so determined to spread all these awful lies about him.”
Mr. Maxwell peered up at Ramona, his eyes like slits. “Well, you’ll have to come back some other time. Like I said, Zeke isn’t—“
The front door banged open again. All three of them turned to look, only to find Zeke standing in the doorway, frozen.
“What?” he asked, shifting back and forth between the three identical stares.
With a sigh, Mr. Maxwell said, “This is Ramona Jones and Blayze Dragomir. They want to talk to you about Joy Valdez, but I told them they need to leave. I won’t have them harassing you.”
Zeke went a little pale, which made his blue hair stand out even more. He shook his head. “No, it’s … it’s fine, Dad. I’ll talk to them.” Mr. Maxwell started to interrupt, but Zeke was already weaving through the aisles and back behind the counter, waving at Blayze and Ramona to follow him into the back room.
As soon as they were alone, Zeke started babbling.
“Shit, shit, shit! This is bad. This is so bad. Are you a cop?” He looked at Ramona, clearly terrified.
Blayze kind of hoped that Ramona would said yes and string him along a little, but she remained unfortunately professional.
“I’m a private investigator. I’m not here to accuse you of anything, but I do need to get some information from you. I’m hoping you might be a little bit more willing to talk to me than the police.”
Zeke shook his head. “No way, man. I can’t—I mean, if my parents find out?”
“Dude, aren’t you, like, in your twenties?”
Blayze couldn’t help it. The guy was squirming like a worm on a hook. Surely he had more balls than that.
“So what if I am? They will skin me alive if they know that I’ve been dealing under their noses.”
“Then you have been dealing,” Blayze pointed out, grinning at Ramona triumphantly. She smiled back at him, and he had that same tight feeling he’d had when she called earlier.
It was unsettling. Suddenly, he no longer felt as victorious.
If Ramona noted the shift in his mood, she didn’t let on. She was already refocused entirely on Zeke, who was now cowering in the corner of the room between bags of flower and boxes of rice.
“I’m not going to turn you in for dealing drugs so long as you can help me figure out what happened with Joy Valdez,” she said.
The words seemed to soothe Zeke, who found his breath. “Fine. Whatever. I deal, okay? But I swear to you, I swear—these were the same drugs she always bought, the same ones she’d been buying from me since she moved here. I didn’t touch them, didn’t tamper with them. I got them from the same supplier I’ve worked with for five years. He’s never done me wrong in any deal, ever. I trust him not to start now.”
“Yes, because drug dealers are notoriously men of their word,” Blayze pointed out, earning a snort from Ramona. He glanced at her, and she was fighting a grin. Not quite a laugh, though. Didn’t count.
“Bullet’s been honest with me from day one. We’ve worked together for years. I don’t care if you believe me or not, it’s the truth.”
Ramona sighed. “God, at times like this I wish I kept a witch on retainer. I’d love a truth spell right now.”
“No mojo of your own?” Blayze asked.
“Nope.” Ramona shook her head. “I’m as mortal as they come.”
“Great. Very illuminating. Can you two flirt when you’re not interrogating me?”
Zeke was bright red, and even Blayze felt a little—well, not embarrassed, he never felt embarrassed, but he had gotten a little too personal at the wrong moment. He should have waited to ask her later, while they were alone.
God, he couldn’t wait to get her alone.
Despite Zeke’s dig, Ramona remained entirely unruffled. She waved away his complaint. “So everything about Joy’s transaction was normal?”
“Everything. My own sister was going to take that stuff, it’s not like I’d hurt her! If I had known it was poisoned, I would have thrown it out.”
“What would—what was your supplier’s name again, Bullet? Well, what would Bullet have said about that?”
Zeke wrapped his arms around himself. “As long as Bullet gets his due, he doesn’t ask a lot of questions. If I’d suspected anything, I would have brought him a sample of the poisoned shit, and then I’d have paid him out of pocket for everything that was lost in hopes that he’d make it up to me later.”
“You have that kind of cash?”
“I’m the only real dealer in town. I do all right, plus Ma and Dad pay me to work the store with them, you know?” He paused, licked his lips. “My sister—Tania—called me first, before she called Felicity for help. She said they’d been hanging out for a few hours, doing PD, no big deal. Normal night. Then all of a sudden, Joy does a line and starts seizing. Tania thought it was an overdose until all that bullshit came out in the hospital. That’s everything I know.”
Blayze wanted
to keep going, to keep prodding at Zeke, but Ramona nodded once and then turned to go out of the room. She practically ran into Mr. Maxwell on her way out, as he was hovering near the door.
“Thank you for your time, sir,” she said politely as she stepped around him.
Blayze lingered a few steps behind, eyes on father and son as they conferred quietly. How much had Mr. Maxwell heard, if anything? Pixie magic was weak outside of alchemy and potions, most of the time, but it still existed. Was the door soundproofed? Surely Zeke was smart enough to do that, if he was going to deal out of that room.
Something made him stop and turn back.
“Mr. Maxwell,” Blayze said, earning a glare from the smaller man. “Sorry, I’ll be out of your hair in a minute, but—do you remember that night? Did you see Tania and Joy here?”
Mr. Maxwell shrugged. “My daughter and the Morningstar girl—sorry, she’s owned up to being a Valdez now, hasn’t she?—have been inseparable since they met. They’re always together, always hanging out around here. I think I saw them. Joy bought some ingredients, or something, for her sister, the witch.”
Nothing about that seemed to illuminate anything. Blayze shrugged. “Right. Well, thanks.”
Blayze followed Ramona back out onto the sidewalk, squinting as the sun temporarily blinded him.
Ramona was watching him, her gaze steady and direct. She crossed her arms and tapped on perfectly manicured nail against her cardigan. “So. That was interesting.”
It had been. Blayze had never been much of a fan of hard work, but he had kind of liked being in on the investigation.
He didn’t know how to put that into words, however, so instead he just nodded. “Yeah. So. What do we do now?”
A little half-smile curled the corner of Ramona’s lip. “Well. Want to have sex?”
Chapter Four
Ramona
RAMONA RELISHED THE LOOK ON Blayze’s face, the way his perfect jaw dropped open, his wide blue eyes. She couldn’t stop herself from grinning. Things between them sort of felt like a constant competition to see who could shock the other person more, and she felt like she had won.
She wasn’t sure about Blayze as a person—he was flighty and insincere, and she thought it might be impossible for him to be serious. But he’d proven himself to be at least slightly valuable during their time questioning Zeke, and that was more than she’d expected. It was…surprising, to say the least.
Plus, he was fucking hot.
God, she was tired of denying it. She’d thought he was gorgeous from the second she saw him, and she’d told herself she’d not fall for any of his charms or lines. She still hadn’t; at the very least, Ramona could say that for herself.
But seeing him in that tight shirt that clung to the definition in his abs, looking at his arm muscles nearly bulging out of the short sleeves, she wondered if she hadn’t been thinking about this the wrong way. She hadn’t been with anyone since Daniel because it felt wrong to get emotionally involved with another person. She’d always equated sex with emotional attachment, with love.
She’d ignored the physical side of things, but the more time she spent in Blayze’s presence, the more she wondered why.
She wasn’t serious about Blayze—she couldn’t imagine being serious about him. He was not the kind of man a woman pinned her dreams on.
But maybe she didn’t need to pin her dreams on anyone. Maybe she just needed to get fucking laid.
And he was certainly good for that.
Blayze recovered quickly, standing up straighter and lifting his chin. He tried to look confident, but the look in his eyes was all eagerness.
He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I didn’t realize it was keen investigative skills that did it for you.”
A laugh bubbled up inside her, and she let it spill forth. What was the point in holding back? This didn’t have to be a big deal. She could sleep with this relative stranger, figure out what happened to his sort-of family member, get paid, and move on with her life. It was all going to be fine.
“You got me. I only give it up to men who help me solve crimes.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “Your place or mine?”
“Yours. I’m staying with one of my brothers for a few days, and if he comes home to find us fucking on his couch, he might actually kill me.” Blayze laughed. “Unless you know of a way to get us to New York City?”
She nodded down the street. “Follow me, then.”
The walk back to her house was nearly silent, and not in the way that Ramona had hoped. She’d been expecting—fire, anticipation, sweaty palms, racing hearts. The whole nine yards. Instead, it felt like they weren’t talking because neither of them was sure what to say. Which was true for her, of course, but didn’t he do this all the time? She wasn’t one for casual, but she had seen the tabloids in the grocery store just like everyone else, and she knew for a fact that he did.
Was this the way no strings attached sex just…was? This awkward, silent thing, bodies rubbing together in hopes of an orgasm and nothing more? She’d always enjoyed sex in the past, but that sex had been with men she cared about.
In the course of a few blocks, Ramona felt herself go from fully confident in her decision to sleep with Blayze, to suddenly unsure.
Her house came into view at the end of the block and Ramona’s stomach turned into a rock and fell to her feet. She’d lived in this house for years; she and Daniel had bought it together. Now she wished that they had gone to wherever Blayze was staying, brother-be-damned. It couldn’t be any more awkward than this moment.
Ramona slowed to a halt in front of her porch, Blayze catching on a step later. She opened her mouth, tried to think of something to say, and then closed it. She ran up the front steps, his tread heavy behind her. He stood too close as she fiddled with her key in the lock. Instead of turning her on, it made her uncomfortable. Why was everything making her uncomfortable?
They spilled inside into the foyer, and Ramona closed the front door behind her. Leaning back against it, she took him in: this was the man she’d promised herself she’d sleep with, just for the fun of it. Now she was wondering if she’d been profoundly mistaken.
Blayze’s eyebrows were drawn together, his usually playful mouth turned down into a frown.
Whatever was going wrong here, he was definitely feeling it, too.
“Maybe this is a bad idea,” she said, biting her lip. She wanted to have a fun fling with a hot guy, but this—this tension, this awkwardness—did not bode well.
Blayze shook his head. “I’ve never ….”
“Never what?”
He huffed out a laugh. “I’ve never felt this awkward around a woman before. I mean, usually we laugh, we flirt, we bang, we go our separate ways.” He shrugged. “But this—it feels weird, doesn’t it? And I don’t know why because you’re gorgeous.”
The compliment went straight to Ramona’s head, and she smiled, even if she didn’t fully believe it. She wasn’t shy about her looks, certainly, but Blayze was the kind of guy that handed out compliments like that like candy. “Sure. That’s why we’re standing here talking instead of ripping each other’s clothes off. Because I’m gorgeous.”
Suddenly, Blayze was just before her, his body hovering an inch away from her own, nearly chest-to-chest. When she breathed in, she could feel her breasts brush against his torso. His scent was everywhere, something spicy and exotic. It was strangely heady, and it made her feel dizzy.
Everything that had felt strange came into sharper focus all of a sudden, and she could feel it again. The attraction, the good kind of tension, the heat between them. Her body was back with the program, and she felt her stomach tighten, thinking of all the things he could do to her.
His eyes burned as they dipped down and traced up the curves of her body. She felt exposed, but it wasn’t bad. It was…sexy. She liked his eyes on her.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, his voice gone hoarse. It was deeper than she’d ever heard, and it hit her str
aight in the spine, making her shiver.
It took her a moment to find her tongue. “All right.”
A tiny smile flickered over his mouth. “All right.”
And then his mouth was on hers, and it was like any awkwardness between them had never existed.
His lips were firm and soft against her own, and she opened her mouth to him. HIs tongue ventured forward and touched her own, and she felt the echoes of that touch down to her toes. It awakened something inside her; it had been years since she kissed a man, any man, and now here she was, kissing one of the hottest men she’d ever seen—who was also, kind of, sort of, a prince.
His hands traced down her sides, one lingering over her hip and the other disappeared behind her. He grabbed a handful of her ass and brought her against him, and Ramona felt his hard cock against her own softness. She let out a high-pitched squeak before she could control herself.
It’d been so long—too long, she was now thinking—since she’d had a body against her own. It felt like she was starving, dying for his hands on her, everywhere and constantly.
She swiveled her hips against his cock, and Blayze shivered. He spurred forward, his hand tightening on her hip, his mouth still insistent. She clung to his back, wanting no space between them. Even the fabric of his shirt was too much.
Actually, that was an idea.
She smoothed a hand down his back and to the edge of his t-shirt, grabbing it at the hem and pulling it up. A few inches of smooth, pale skin appeared. He was hot to the touch like he was radiating heat. Tugging at the shirt again, she pulled out of the kiss.
“Off,” she told him, trying and failing to disentangle herself from his arms. “Now.”
Blayze smirked. “Bossy.”
But he took a step back and grabbed his t-shirt at the collar, yanking it up and over and revealing his body.
And what a body it was.
Ramona had been with a few men in her life, and Daniel had always known exactly how to ring her bell, but none of them had ever looked quite like Blayze. It wasn’t a betrayal to feel like that, was it? After all, it was objectively true.
