“Mm, sweet.” He grinned.
She was tempted to punch the brake button and have at it with him all over again. Hands clasped together as they walked out, passing curious people who pointed to the once stalled machine.
They must’ve be a sight. And she hadn’t even checked the probable hornet’s nest of hair yet.
Nothing to see here, folks. Well, not anymore.
Yes, we’re the cause of the delay and we’d damn sure do it again!
Oh, that would be amazing.
The nosey freaks can ask the lucky elevator to monitor for a play-by-play. Or purchase the tape the camera recorded. Not once did she give a fuck about being watched, and still didn’t. It made what happened that much hotter.
Shaky legs carried her out of the building. Keeland possessed her waist, his arm wound tight around it. The night greeted them with cool breaths of wind. Quiet moments were spent approaching Adela in all her blue glowing obsidian glory. Without its magic, this island wouldn’t be here and Keeland wouldn’t have flipped, rotated, and shaken Veronica’s life senseless. Her new life.
Salty water permeated the air from the tree’s small moat.
The stars and moon predominated more than she’d ever seen in centuries, awakening the creatures in Grimstone. Laughter mingled with conversations, footfalls and beats of wings flapping. She looked up just as a herd of dragons soared through the rich, dark blue sky. There were four of the giants. One red, the rest green, their bellies creased in scales, orange light peeking in between the cracks. Fire. They had to be twenty feet long muzzle to tail.
“Incredible.” Veronica stood rooted to the sidewalk, staring at them in wonder, like a child.
“The Galzras,” Keeland said beside her “Adrian is among them.”
The dragon family were the lawmakers. Fair and firm, they weren’t dictators and they didn’t act as if the island was theirs, or its people their peasants. The Island of Grimstone is exactly what she had heard it to be. An opened arms community to everyone.
Why the hell hadn’t I moved here sooner?
Keeland insisted to direct him to her car. She was parked at the edge of the lot. Long distances mean shit to a vampire. Veronica got the keys out, blinking it unlocked.
Suddenly, the tree above her vehicle deposited something hefty and all the more horrifying on her hood. Veronica jolted at the sight. It was prehistoric in part and strangely mismatched bird. It squawked before regaining its bearings then flew off, almost drunkenly. Thankfully, it didn’t do much damage besides freaking her out and causing Keeland to double over laughing.
"What the hell was that?" Her red eyes pointed upward, darting in every direction for the fiend.
Keeland recovered and gave the answer.
“An Abomination Bird.”
“A what?” Yes, it certainly was in the looks department, but he said it as if it were an official name.
“You’re new here.” Keelend remembered. “There’s a story behind that... thing.”
“Oh, this should be good.” Veronica settled against her car. Keeland stood close. “Lay it on me.”
“It goes: one day, a thousand years ago, an elderly lady witch who lived in a little shack in the woods had many pet birds. Of all types. She loved her pet birds so much, until she realized they lacked the superior abnormal differences that resided among Grimstone and the island’s culture, she decided to change the birds she owned.”
“Change, as in...?”
“Experimentation, yes, but not by magic—which would have be a lot cleaner. Once regular species were mutilated and put back mix-matched together, but also with added uglier and deadlier features. Colorful parakeets now had the wings of crows, talons of eagles, and the beaks of a toucan, and fangs and eyes of deceased supernatural beings. This got her locked up.”
Veronica chuckled. “Of course it did. Frankenstein copycats are frowned upon. What happened to her?”
“She eventually died, soon after getting an infection. Somehow, undetected, she replaced her ears with her feet.”
“Jeez.” Veronica grimaced.
“Something about not wanting to hear people chirping around her anymore.” Keeland shrugged. “Before getting arrested, upon having heard about the warrant, she let each bird loose. Their new abilities made them hard to catch but were eventually deemed harmless if not bothered. For centuries now, they’ve procreated, adapted and fly about normally.”
“Why haven’t I seen any around the island?" Veronica flung her hand at the car’s hood where a few feathers lay. “Before that one dropped its ass on my car.”
“They’re mostly seen near Banshee Peak, further north. That one may have just wandered.”
“Okay, wait, what about the birds that had the eyes and teeth from actual supernatural people? Weren’t their families upset?”
“Surprisingly, no. I do believe, as the story tells it, since I wasn’t actually there–”
“Really? But you are old as hell.” She smirked. Keeland bit the air close to her nose.
“The families weren’t too put out. They got around to accepting this was Fate’s doing and their loved ones can live on... sort of.”
“By Vampire Uncle Joe being a freak bird and making little freak babies with other wacked-out flyers while splattin’ craps on people’s cars? They’ve accepted that?”
“Well, aren’t we all freaks?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Hmm, not until recently,” she purred. “I guess we had a very productive work day.” she suppressed nudging his side and winking. Although his eyes had returned to normal, traces of desire resided.
“Yes.” He stepped closer, peering down from under dark lashes. The moonlight ignited his hair, creating a green aura around his head, emphasizing his pointed ears.
“You’re very pretty,” she said without thinking.
Keeland tilted his head, laughing outright. “No, baby.” He encircled her waist again, smiling big. “I’m handsome.”
“And cocky,”
“Dashing. You,” he kissed her nose, “are very pretty. Extremely beautiful. Incredibly sexy.” Leaning, he touched his forehead to hers, his gaze full of so much meaning that it spoke volumes, as well as left much unspoken. “You are... unreal.”
Veronica hid in the crook of his neck. She was beginning to get overloaded. “Is this wrong? Us? What we’re doing?” she whispered, eyes squeezed shut, dreading his answer.
“No.” He pulled back, brushing kisses on her eyelids, coaxing them open. “No one has a say in what I do. Nor do I care what my employees choose do either with their personal time and with whom.” Relieved, more than anything before, she sagged into him, becoming small. Which was once a previous prohibition. In the past, she unfailingly remained in the mold of indestructible strength, standing on a pedestal so far out of reach no one could claw her down.
She’d been taught to live on the principle that being vulnerable was the equivalent of having a fatal disease, undeniably weak. That she shouldn’t expect anyone to help, that it was her own fault she’d let herself be dragged into that state.
And forever be doomed.
Father dearest, you marvelous gem. Your fucked-up lectures were diseases themselves. Respect other’s opinions, my ass. If his warped brain had actually affected her, then she would’ve missed out letting vulnerability carry her off the pedestal and into the arms of Keeland.
Affection and gratitude surged and... what is that? A hot pink flame, lighting a dusty torch in dark trenches inside, whatever it was glowed, humming her limbs. She held Keeland’s face and kissed him. For a long time, they stayed like that, oblivious to their surroundings.
“I’m sunk, Veronica,” he whispered against her lips. “Utterly buried because of you.”
She smiled, nuzzling his neck. “That makes two of us.”
* * *
In bed Veronica rolled to stare across her cozy room and at the square window displaying a chunk of Grimstone’s enchanting night.
Prese
ntly lying comfortably in her own domain, basked in a new cotton cloud of happiness. Lightly, she touched her lips.
I can still taste him.
Without her knowledge, a connection had begun to weave upon becoming his right hand, working alongside him, those two weeks feeling like a decade, loaded with never ending hours of being by his side. Linking silk strings, inevitably knitting us together. Should she chide herself for not seeing what was growing in the background, coming closer and closer? She previously deflected, sipping the denial juice and chalking it up as simple attraction. Nothing more.
The elevator would beg to differ.
Views of others would scoff that it’s impossible for a person to fall in love in that ridiculously short amount of time, especially after one sexual encounter and when, at first, been on the verge of loathing that person.
Well, Veronica wasn’t like other people, and quite frankly, no one can deduce what exactly the heart wants. Beating or not. Or gauge the impact recent events can have on a person.
I am what I am. And I’m falling for Keeland Elwood.
In the dark bedroom, she grinned. Boss Man, douchebag, giant A-hole—he’s all mine.
Chapter Eleven
Dawn’s peach light spilled on the sheets, spreading to an elf’s restless limbs. He watched it cover a blanket-less naked body, then over the edge of the bed.
Keeland willed the color to change to crimson—the same shade as Veronica’s stunning irises.
A small groan brought upon when remembering how they glittered as an orgasm crippled her to fall limp in his arms. I caused that. Her soft curves in his grasp; prior fantasies didn’t live up to the actual thing.
Gods, he wanted more. More of his wicked woman. More of her sounds of pleasure being pushed to release. More of her creamy, porcelain flesh, filling his large hands, and hungry mouth. My she-beast, who clawed his chest, and down his abs. Who kissed as if he were the coveted magic to finally breathe air into her oxygen-deprived body.
And who verbally bit off the head of the intercom person.
“Wow,” Keeland chuckled. That had been funny as hell. He thought for sure she’d want to stop after that, but nope, Veronica Ardelean continued to amaze him.
I could still taste her.
Wallowing deeper in these flashbacks had harden him. Hand gripping the base, Keeland shut his eyes. She—
The shrill ringing of a phone ripped away savory images. Is this fucking real? You’ve got to be kidding me. After snatching the blasted disturbance off the nightstand, on screen displayed a number he’d come to dread seeing, and drooped his dick like a wilted flower. “Elwood.”
“Hello, Mr. Elwood. I hope I am not interrupting.”
The lawyer for George Matthews was indeed interrupting. Something super damn great. And for that he almost growled in the man’s ear. “What is it?” Keeland’s tone suggested he seriously get right to the point.
The conversation continued way on after he’d dressed and through the drive to The Tower and into his office. Keeland continued to listen, while trying unsuccessfully to keep a monstrous storm of anger in check. The rectangular device still glued to his pointed ear spewed utter bullshit until he wanted to hurl it through a fucking wall. But this sorry excuse of a man on the other line went on and on.
When he was done, Keeland was seething. Mona and other employees ventured in, wondering what had just happened.
He couldn’t explain, not a chance yet, because then the damn phone rang again.
This time it was The Missing Goblin: Remington.
Once that call was over, Keeland was ready to murder every single moving thing in sight.
Chapter Twelve
The morning greeted Veronica splendidly, an affect that smoothed into her mood like silky, creamy cockatoo blood-puddy. The island’s forecast was pleasantly balmy, her pussy satisfied by the magical fingers of her boss, and currently on her way to see him.
At a red light around the corner from The Tower, was when Veronica’s phone continuously buzzed, signaling an incoming call. On the car’s dash display screen connected to the device and showed the caller.
SERAPHINA
“SERAAAA!” Veronica squealed.
“VERONICAAAA!” The angel laughed. “The bubble hearts are shooting through the phone, what has happened to you?” She asked.
Veronica spilled.
“Oh, wow.” Sera sighed, wistfully once Veronica had finished what went down last night.
My thoughts exactly.
“Keeland... wow...damn, girl!” they laughed.
“He’s stepped up.” Sera said.
Veronica nodded to that.
“It takes a certain person to change one’s behavior, one’s outlook,” Sera said, referring to both Keeland and her vampy pal. “And you guys are proof that it doesn’t take years to know who that special person is The one.”
Veronica dropped her gaze to the steering wheel. She was relieved Seraphina hadn’t judged the ounce of time to some since meeting Keeland. Not that Sera would be crass, but her opinion meant a lot.
“When you say the one?” Veronica hedged.
“I mean him possibly being your Blood Mate.”
That’s serious shit right there and oddly, a nice odd, Veronica wasn’t panicked over the notion. Blood Mating is the whole shebang for those who’ve finally met the “The One,” needing to be with them for all eternity. The ritual takes place during sex as each other’s blood is exchanged for three nights in a row and after the third night, the bond is complete.
Keeland, her eternal Blood Mate?
You’re not scared?
No.
Then you believe it could happen?
Someday? But... am I his?
“We haven’t talked about what’s happening,” she admitted.
“I’m positive you will soon. You and Keeland have lived long enough to know what you want.”
Preach. Getting the hell out of Europe was an example.
But she was also old enough to know to be cautious of certain things.
“I want him,” she began, piecing it together aloud. “I’ve let go of how I used to feel about him. I mean he’ll still be a boss nut... but I like that. It’s turned out to be...hot.” Now every time he’ll demand anything of anyone it will be like lighting a white-hot fire straight to her panties. ...’wanting to slam your body on my desk and fuck you ’til every being in The Tower hears you scream my name’... she suppressed a baby moan and continued. “As for emotionally, he’s taken a direct hit on me. I’m happy like I’ve never been. I’m looking forward to seeing him. Be near him again.” Losing herself in his scent. “At the same time, I’m a little worried. Should I calm my feelings for him a bit? We’ve just begun.”
“That’s natural, V,” Sera said softly. “But, please remember, you’re a grown woman—an alpha. Don’t be afraid to take a leap. Although, from what occurred last night, sounds like you both already have. Be the demanding badass I know resides under that frilly blouse and tell him how you feel. Screw second guessing.”
Yeah, since when had I allowed that? It just puts a damper on things. “Wait, frilly? How do you know I’m wearing one?” she fingered the cream button-up. Its white twin had been mutilated by Keeland’s hungry hands.
“I just know.”
She rolled her eyes while the angel laughed and refrained from pointing out her love advice would make her father proud—a slight comeback that would’ve cut off the chuckling.
Vzzzt. Vzzzt. Vzzzt. Vzzzt.
Multiple texts came across the screen.
“The hell?” Four new texts from Mona. Each one soured Veronica’s happy mood.
>Code FANG.
>This is worse than a bomb threat.
>Keeland is pissing knives.
>Get your ass here now!!
“What’s wrong?” Sera asked.
“Not sure. I’m about to find out. I’ll call you later.” then she sped through the light.
***
> The street cameras were getting good shots of Veronica’s bumper.
She anticipated a mailbox soon filled of speeding violation tickets because nothing was going to stop her from getting to the office. Once she did, the elevator bypassed—boo—her blurry figure zipped up fifty flights of stairs in under three seconds flat. Wild hair escaped her clip. Screw, it she needed to know what the hell was going on.
The office floor was deathly silent.
Her guard raised further up as she passed the vacant front desk. No one was nearby until she turned down the hall that led to additional offices, including hers, Mona’s, and, at the very end, Keeland’s.
Staff clogged the path, huddled in small groups, whispering. And looking terrified.
Uh oh.
Mona saw her and rushed over. Veronica craned around people to find Keeland. On the way to The Tower tried calls failed. His voicemail picked up each time. She quickly unlocked her office door to toss her purse inside and then addressed Mona.
“Explain.”
“It’s Matthews. His lawyer called saying he wants to officially detach from Resurrect.” She frowned, a wrinkle appearing between her thin eyebrows. “That son of bitch. He’ll be here tomorrow to sign the release forms, to shut down his account. Everything—done.”
Veronica blanched. “And so that’s it?” fists clenched. “We’ve lost him? What about Remington?”
“The other son of bitch? The one who kept dangling carrots in our fucking faces? The chain-yanker? He can go to hell too. You know what he did? He must’ve found out Matthews was pulling out because then he called, expressing his deepest sympathies and regret that this didn’t work out, and right when he was about to ‘finally settle on selling.’” Mona air-quoted, vibrating with suppressed anger. “That sick fuck never wanted to sell, so how dare he act like it’s a little too late on our part? Like we’re the screwy ones.”
Veronica hissed a curse, feeling her fangs extend.
Blood, Cupcakes and Wicked Business (Grimstone Island) Page 7
