"Jesus fucking Christ on a steam train!" I yelled, whirling around and almost decking my future father-in-law. "What the fuck are you doing in here?!"
"Uh, well." Brad shrugged one tan, hair-free shoulder. "I was taking a poo, but then you came in real sad-like and started crying, so I figured I better just finish up and see if you were okay. Are you? Okay?"
He held out the paper to me again, and seeing as my mascara was running into my eyes and stinging the ever loving shit out of them, I took it. I'd blotted both eyes and blown my nose before registering what he'd just said.
"Oh, you were …" I nodded to the open toilet, then looked at the paper in my hand and cringed.
"Uh, yeah. You cool if I flush now? I didn't want to interrupt before." He gave me a dopey grin, like a golden retriever, and I nodded frantically.
"Maybe wash your hands, too?" I suggested. "I'll just …" Not waiting to make anymore small talk with Daddy Dearest, I frantically flipped the lock and rushed out into the corridor and slammed the door again behind me.
Ugh, no wonder it had smelled bad in there. I'd just assumed it was my mum's organic septic crap that she used. That reminded me, I should have the boys check out her plumbing while we were staying.
I meant that in absolutely the most non-dirty way. Damn, fucking plumbers had really corrupted any mention of pipework.
Not wanting to go back into the guest room to discuss my feelings, I headed instead for the kitchen. Mum was bound to have wine in there somewhere. She was a white drinker, but the way I was feeling I'd happily take anything fermented.
"Lucky Charms." Dustin's rough accent sent a shiver through me as I leaned over to hunt in the fridge. Dirty bastard that he was, he took advantage of my protruding rear-end and grabbed a hold of my ass, grinding his dick against me.
"Seriously?" I exclaimed, jolting out of the fridge and clutching the first bottle my hand had landed on as I whirled to face my Irish husband. "How the hell are you permanently hard? It can't be comfortable!"
He grinned at me broadly. "I'm not, but wit' you around it seems to be getting more frequent."
Shaking my head in dismay, I twisted the cap off the bottle of wine. "Unbelievable."
My eyes locked on his, I didn't bother checking the label on the wine before taking a long, healthy swig from it. That is, until the taste registered and I spluttered.
"What is it, are you okay, love?" Dustin transformed from this … egotistical, arrogant, cocky piece of shit, to a panicked and concerned lover in the space of a split-second. It was actually amusing to watch until I coughed enough to clear my throat and then glared at the bottle.
"Ugh," I spat. "What the hell, Mum?! Are you trying to poison me?" I screamed this last part, not totally sure if she could hear me or not. In a house this small, it was probable though.
"What is it, wee one? Are you allergic to something?" Dustin was still looking crazy concerned—which was seriously endearing—so I turned the label to face him.
"Yeah, I'm allergic to shit taste in wine! Sav Blanc? Is she serious? This shit tastes like cut grass and cat piss—mixed. So gross." I shuddered then took another sip from the bottle, grimacing as it went down.
"It tastes like cut grass and cat piss, but you’re still gonna drink it then?" Dusty raised his red brows at me in … respect? Or disgust … hard to tell. I'd go with respect.
"Uh, yeah. Joan and Gemma fucking Darling are here. Gemma is my goddamn twin, oh and she has a Philosopher's Stone that can unbind you all from me and bind you to her. Trust me, sweetie. You do not want me sober right now." I gave him a wary look and he grinned.
"Well, when you put it like that," he chuckled, taking the wine from my tight grip and wrapping his sexy fucking lips around the neck of it.
As he drank, his throat moving, I couldn't help slipping into a daydream of those same lips wrapped around one of my other husband's cocks … or French kissing my hoo-ha.
Damn it. Warden and his stupid words were poisoning my brain.
"See something you like, little gobshite?" Dusty purred as he handed the bottle back to me, and I could swear my clit piercing started buzzing like a little vibrator all on its own.
True to my current run of luck though, loud voices reached us moments before the front door slammed open and Shane stormed in with Warden, Joan tight behind them with a red face and a finger wagging like she was scolding a pair of six-year-olds.
Boy, had she misjudged this one.
My guys were no mere boys to be kowtowed and scolded by their mommy. Especially when said mommy was the one in the wrong. Just how long had she known about Gemma's true identity anyway? Or mine?
"Joan," I snapped, coming out from the kitchen and parking myself directly in her way as she continued on at my guys about some crap. I don't know what she was saying, and I didn't much care. All I could hear from her these days was blah blah blah. "Back the fuck off. You're not welcome here."
Her face boiled red, and her eyes bulged with outrage. "I beg your pardon, Arizona, I'll have you blah blah blah blah blah."
I am not even joking, that was all I heard before my hand just whipped out and cracked her across the face in the most spectacular bitch slap I'd ever landed in my life. Come to think of it, it kind of stung my palm.
"You little—" Joan got no more out, as Reg popped out of nowhere and grabbed her wrist that was prepping a slap in return.
"Mother. You heard our spirit. Get the hell out, and take that little Judas with you, too." Reg sneered in Gemma's direction as she hovered in the doorway, watching with gleeful eyes.
"We'll leave, Reg," Gemma assured him, turning up the sweet innocent act to sickening levels, "because we don't want to cause any drama. But don't forget, I'll be back tomorrow to claim you all. You're rightfully mine, and I won't let her take you from me."
My lip curled in a snarl, but I didn't bother engaging her in further arguments seeing as she—and Joan—were already skulking back to their rental car. Fucking snakes.
"Why tomorrow?" I demanded, placing my hands on my hips and glaring at Shane, Reg and Warden. "What's special about tomorrow? Is it the full moon or something?"
They all frowned at me like I was a bit dense, and then must have remembered I didn't grow up around this magical crap; I had no idea what was going on.
"No, Honey Doll," Shane drawled, "it's a Tuesday."
"All real strong magic has to be done on Tuesdays," Warden elaborated. "It's like … a rule."
Not the total dumbest thing I'd ever heard, but it was totally up there on the list. All magic needed to be done on a Tuesday? What a crock of shit. Ugh, speaking of …
"Hey, where's my mum? She's human, you know?"
"Oh." Dustin was the one who responded this time. "I took care of that. Knocked her clean out when you went all spirit whammy on your sist— um, I mean, on that Gemma slut."
"You." I gaped at him in shock. "You knocked my mum out? What about her boytoy? I just saw him in the bathroom!"
"Yeah, but Sugar," Shane replied, "he's as dumb as two planks of wood nailed together. When all this went down, he was chasing a butterfly out in the backyard. I don't think he's much of a concern."
I nodded my agreement. He had a point, Brad did not seem like the sharpest tool in the shed, that was for sure. Hopefully Dustin hadn't been too forceful with knocking my mum out though. She was just a human, after all.
Oh wow, when did I start thinking like that? Just a human?
"Look, your mam is fine," Dustin continued, "but we ought to think about how to deal with those two nutters." He waved my wine bottle in the direction Gemma and Joan had just left. "They seem awful confident in this Sorcerer's Stone—"
"Philosopher's Stone," I corrected, and George—having just joined us with Billy—rolled his eyes.
"It's a spirit stone. This isn't Harry Potter for goodness sake."
"Yeah, that." Dusty waved his hand dismissively. "Now, I don't believe a damn t'ing they're saying about soulmates, because it’s
all a pot of crap. But they seem pretty damn confident so it makes me wanna take them serious, understand?"
He handed the bottle of wine back to me and I took a long drink, draining it dry and then cringing at the sour taste on my tongue. What the hell possessed my mum, or anyone, to buy Sauvignon Blanc … totally beyond me. It was like one of those cool things to do that just everyone jumped onboard with regardless of the fact that it tasted downright horrid.
You might be excused for thinking I was being overly dramatic because I was a red wine drinker, but that simply wasn't the case. Heck, I was a huge fan of a nice oaked Chardonnay, all buttery and rich. Or even a crisp, fruity Pinot Gris. But the inherent problem with white wine was that it needed to be cold. Therefore, it needed to be planned in advance, moved to the fridge yada, yada, you see my issue. With reds, I could just grab and go!
"Right. Sure," I muttered, waving my hand and retreating back into the kitchen to find more wine. "Totally understood."
Bending over, I rifled around in my mum's fridge, moving bunches of kale and tubs of Greek yogurt until I spotted another bottle of wine. Success!
Aw, crap. Sav again. Gross!
Curling my lip in distaste, I twisted the cap off and took a long gulp.
"Okay, so who wants to go to the beach tomorrow?" I asked, taking a deep breath to tamp down my growing nausea as to what Tuesday might bring. Call me an ostrich, whatever, but I'd really rather stick my head in the sand on this one.
Maybe if I crossed my fingers hard enough, the whole thing would just … go away?
Yeah. With my luck? Fat chance.
Waves crashed against the shore, shattering into foamy bubbles and then fizzling into nothingness … much like my marriage was about to do.
Ugh, pull it together Ari. Gemma fucking Darling is full of crap. Ain't nobody breaking these bonds.
"You gettin’ wet, darlin'?" Shane asked, coming up beside me and stroking a warm hand down my back. We were standing on the wet sand, waves rushing around our feet while I stared into the water and contemplated the meaning of life.
His words sent a shiver of arousal through me and I batted my eyelashes at my Southern lover. "What are you suggesting, Shane?"
"Uh … I was suggesting heading in for a swim." He indicated to the bobbing heads of my other husbands already a ways out from shore. "Why? What were you thinking?"
"Oh, err …" Wet. Swimming. Fucking hell, you horny bitch, Ari! "Yeah, that's what I thought you meant."
Shane smirked and ran his fingers through his dark hair, his blue eyes taking in the teeny little bikini I'd purchased specifically for this trip. I figured if my love handles or the cellulite on my thighs was showing, no big deal because my husbands had already seen it … many, many, many times. There was something freeing about not being single anymore. It wasn't that I was planning on ‘letting myself go’ (totally sexist phrase by the way), but just that I didn't feel the need to try and hide who I was.
"I'm lovin' that bikini, sug," he purred in that sweet Southern accent of his. Several women whipped their heads around to look at him as they walked by. There was nothing sexy about my weird combo accent, but Shane's … le sigh. Hey, if the plumbing thing didn't work out, he could always get into recording audiobooks! I know I'd sure as shit listen to 'em.
"Good, because I paid like a hundred and twenty bucks for it," I said, popping out a sassy hip and planting my fist atop it. With Dustin's credit card was the secret addendum to that phrase, but I wasn't about to admit that aloud.
"A hundred and twenty?!" Shane asked, whistling as he made a slow circle around me, dressed in … red, white, and blue American flag swim trunks. Eh, kind of tacky, but since he'd grown up in Texas, I'd give him a break. "There's barely enough fabric there to cover one of those pretty pink nipples of yours."
He paused in front of me, a roguish smirk tracing his features as he looked me up and down and whistled under his breath.
"Yeah, well," I said, feeling a flush tint my cheeks as I glanced down at the tiny pink triangles sitting on the round, white curves of my breasts. True, this was essentially a string bikini and not something I'd normally wear, but it was my honeymoon and even weird revelations about long-lost twins and soul mate usurpers was not going to change that. "That's sort of the point."
"Oh, is it now?" Shane asked, stepping close and running his finger along the bottom of one of the pink triangles. My breath hissed out as his fingertip slipped under the fabric and slid tantalizingly across the hardened peak. I moved to slap his hand away but ended up curling my fingers around his wrist on accident.
The look of smug male satisfaction on his face was equal parts annoying and sexy. Dear God, what sort of human man has a chiseled jaw like that? Oh. That's right—Shane O'Hara wasn't human. I guessed that was why he had tapered cheekbones that came down to a nice square jaw that was masculine without being Neanderthal. Uh, totally drool worthy.
"Stop that," I murmured, but the way I said it made it translate to please keep going, sir. Eww. I slapped his hand away for real, totally satisfied and comfortable in my hot pink string bikini that climbed all the way up my ass crack … until I turned and saw Gemma Darling in a pretty yellow bikini that was way more tasteful than mine but somehow still sexy. It had big pink hibiscus flowers artfully draped over the modest-but-still-showin'-some-cheek bottom and across the bigger-than-triangles-but-still-got-side-boob top.
"Fuck." I stood there gaping as Shane, in all his inked glory, glanced over and found the target of my open-mouthed shock. "This isn't happening right now," I murmured as I raked my fingers through my artfully tousled hair. I'd made sure to have Britt pack me some of that sea salt spray she liked, so I could give myself the casual beach sexy look before we even arrived at the beach.
But now … Gemma's brunette waves sparkled in the sun like melted chocolate, hanging to her shoulders in these glorious waves that made me seriously wonder if she was wearing a wig or not. Guess I'd be finding out because I was marching my ass over there and ripping her hair—real or fake—off her fucking skull.
"Honeycomb, c'mere," Shane said, pulling me against his bare chest, my cheek pressed against a tattooed pistol and my gaze focused on the big swollen curve of his bicep. There was a sea turtle tattoo hiding in there that I'd somehow missed. I got the sudden urge to inch over and lick it … "Ignore 'em. They're tryin' their damnedest to get a rise outta you, sug."
"And it's working," I snarled, leaning over and licking the sea turtle anyway. Shane shuddered but didn't let go, squeezing me tighter and exhaling warm breath against my hair.
"George told me you thought we had doubts," Shane said, pushing me back at arm's length but holding me in a firm but gentle grip. When I tried to glance over my shoulder, he touched two fingers to my chin and forced me to face him again. "That ain't it at all."
"That's what it feels like," I said, wiggling my fingers and using my thumb to rub against the metal bands of my wedding rings. "Like you guys are only with me because you feel like you have to be."
"That's not it," Shane repeated, looking into my green eyes with his blue ones, the ocean waves lapping gently against the beach on one side while hotels soared sky-high on the other. "If we didn't like you, we wouldn't stick around, not even for some supposed fated connection."
"I don't believe you," I said and then tried not to be hurt that he said the word like instead of love. Not that I'd officially said ‘I love you; to all the guys either, but … "Charlie sent you to my house because he sensed I had elemental blood, right? I mean, that was the only reason, because women are so rare … And then you guys purposefully exposed yourselves so I'd become a shimmer and have to marry you."
"When you put it like that …" Shane started, looking properly disturbed. I mean, if you really thought about it, it was kind of fucked-up. But knowing the guys now, I knew that they weren't the types to force a woman into doing something she didn't like. No, if I'd wanted to leave or have nothing to do with them, they'd have found a way.<
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"And then Warden fucked Dustin which dragged him into all this shit in the first place. But now that we're connected, I feel something," I said, touching my hand to my chest and closing my eyes for a moment. I could sense those silver threads connecting me to each of the guys. They burned bright enough to hurt my magical gaze. And yet … that wasn't the only or the most important part. There was something else in my chest, some deep longing that hurt like hell when I thought of Gemma taking the guys away from me.
"Oh, baby doll," Shane said, "I love you, too."
"Love?!” I squeaked, jerking my head up so suddenly that I didn't notice Shane leaning in for a kiss, and ended up slamming my skull into his chin and making us both curse.
"What are you doing here?" Gemma demanded, appearing on my right side and glaring with eyes the color of baby puke. No, seriously, they looked just like that splash of gross that poor woman at the airport got when her kid upchucked on her.
"What are we doing here?!" I asked, completely and utterly shocked at this woman's level of audacity. "You followed me to my country, to my mother's house, and then stalked me and my husbands to the beach."
"We are staying at that hotel," Gemma gasped, pointing over at one of the towering buildings. "And you were up in some suburb, so the fact that you just happened to pick this stretch of beach seems a tad coincidental to me."
I just stood there gaping as Shane stepped up close beside me.
"Listen here," he started, and then Gemma whipped him this weepy sad girl look that was straight out of a movie. Tears glistened at the edges of her big, round eyes, and her full lower lip quivered just enough to be believable.
"I'm just trying to make things right," Gemma whispered, reaching out a hand toward my husband's tattooed chest. I seriously karate chopped her wrist and she squealed. Looking at her now, out in the bright sunshine, I was surprised to see that she actually did kind of look like me. Just, you know, prettier? Damn it! "You were fated to be mine—my soul mates." Gemma touched a hand to her chest in an eerie imitation of the way I'd just done. "I can feel you all inside of me, but when I trace my connection to you … I run into her."
Elements of Desire Page 8
