Panties, Calamities and Hungry Creatures (Grimstone Island)

by Rochelle Pearson

  PANTIES,

  CALAMITIES

  AND

  HUNGRY

  CREATURES

  The Grimstone Island Series

  Book Three

  ROCHELLE PEARSON

  Copyright © 2018 by Rochelle Pearson. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Due to sexual content and explicit language and dialogue, this book is recommended for readers 18+.

  ***

  WELCOME MORTALS TO GRIMSTONE!

  Are you being held against your will?

  I, Kokoa Lovell don't do dates. So what drove me to actually agree on going on one with a kinky dragon who may or may not be carrying around polaroids of my butt?

  Well...

  Nerves rattling and palms sweating, as the time approaches for me to leave for our dinner date, I realize it may not be so bad once I’m alone with the hunky dragon. And yet odd things begin to occur at the restaurant that causes me to rethink the entire night to be a colossal joke.

  There’s a suspicious substitute waiter, a costume clad couple with a staring problem, and not to mention the disorderly satyr creep who doesn't understand that the she-wolf gets ANGRY when her food gets stolen!

  Will the night end in a major bust and make me lose the last ounce of sanity or—-nah, there isn't a positive option.

  Cheers to a chaotic evening!

  Table of Contents

  Disclaimer

  Panties, Calamities and Hungry Creatures (Grimstone Island, #3)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  GRIMSTONE GLOSSARY

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  Also By Rochelle Pearson

  Adela

  /Ad·dell·uh/

  Noun

  A magic enriched tree made entirely of obsidian rock, rooted in a moat of salt water; located near the east side edge on a supernaturally inhabited island called Grimstone. Created by six supernatural beings known as The Hallow Six, the tree’s power hides the island’s identity from mortals, and allows the walking dead to bask in sunlight without fear of turning into dust or in need of sunblock. Merfolk can shed their fins for adequate limbs to properly ride tandem bicycles. The tree is mainly known to represent the freedom of magic, the overabundance of preternatural life, and unity of any and all creatures, living or undead, among the Island of Grimstone.

  ...Although Adela’s alliance with the very place unites and encourages free lifestyles for the things that go bump in the night—chaos is always near to disrupt the order of peace. After all, it is the land of the monsters.

  Chapter One

  There are occasions after particularly doing something, you realize that you’re not good at it, so you file it away upon the next time it may arise again. One trial and error. Got it, never doing that again–especially in public. For instance, I can’t walk and drink simultaneously without finding the littlest thing to trip on, my arms flailing windmill style before going down like a drunken ice skater.

  Or one hand squirt mustard on a weenie while maneuvering through stop ’n’ go traffic during after-holiday sales.

  Nor could I pop my private areas in fast rhythm in front of a room full of other crotch jerking people at ten o’clock in the morning.

  “Thrust it! Thrust it! Nice job, everyone. Move it, move it!” yells an ostrich-faced woman.

  “My type of workout,” Lucas states near my ear. I cringe and tried to focus on our thin, long necked instructor.

  “Pump it faster, everyone!” she squawks.

  “Aw, man. She’s making eyes at me,” Lucas murmurs.

  “Zip it,” Piper seethes from his other side.

  I would back her up but I was seething myself towards the fairy. It was her stupid ass idea to horridly leave the cabin’s comfortable confines to go to a dance class at ParaFitness. It was her posed destination for us, the three fuck-a-teers, to exploit our over decade long friendship.

  Again, stupid.

  You know what strengthens friendships? Hint, it sure as hell ain’t exercise.

  It’s food.

  Wake me up for a full breakfast buffet and I’ll break out my uncle’s banjo and sing how much you’re the best over a stack of flapjacks.

  Because now, for one, I’m sweaty and pissy. And second, you’ve got Lucas turning the situation icky. He wore a bright blue spandex shirt and–oh, my poor eyes–matching tights. Lacking the so-called “John Travolta moves” he earlier stated, Lucas needed to realize that was his not so good at in public moment and needed to file it away.

  At least for others’ sakes.

  Ostrich chick still encouraged the class–although, I don’t disagree with the type of moves. Booty poppin’ is fun and everything–it’s just all about location, location, location. Put me in the club and I’ll thrust it till the world ends.

  ParaFitness, our current spot, accommodated many of these type of classes. Each in wide, wood floor open spaces. Your typical dance room; large windows, a wall containing a ceiling to floor mirror–reflecting awkward bodies lined up in rows, and a sound system that blasted heavy bass. Back to the damned reflector, me and my friends were dead center. Piper to left, Elven tall, lithe, her dark green hair in a braid, making her pointed ears stand out and sparkling wings emphasized against an all black stretchy getup. Lucas, the shaggy blond merman, in the middle. Smiling creepily and winking at himself. And then there’s me... the short, platnim blonde she-wolf, donning visual disorientating neon pink and an expression that read “someone get me a damn breakfast burrito.

  The bird-shifter lady clapped her hands.

  “Ooookaaay, everyone! Hands on your hips. You’re gonna rotate them, still thrusting–clockwise, like this! Jut them out at each point, like so, in cadence to the beat–five, six, seven, eight–begin!”

  We did as told, simple enough. I didn’t put much into it. I acclimated those below average tendencies from grade school. Just get by, don’t think about the snail crawling time. I sent Piper a look in the mirror–you owe me.

  She blew a kiss.

  The instructor wandered through the rows, critiquing and praising. She got to Lucas, standing in front. His face took on “I’m so sexy, check me out,” as he moved provocatively.

  “Very good, Lucas!” she says.

  “Why, thank you,” he replies, lustily, dazzling with a smile. Which she promptly refused and walked on.

  “You’re such a creep,” I tell him. Did he not hear she’d been telling everyone “very good” as well? The lady’s man wore blinders to some regard.

  “Gods, Kokoa your jealousy is ripe this morning,” he says.

  “What jealousy?” I didn’t want the bird lady.

  “Of my moves.” Lucas jumps in mid turn against me as he continues thrusting. “Follow my lead a
nd you wouldn’t feel the need to hide insecurity behind poorly executed insults.”

  “It was subpar and get your spandex suffocating dinky away from me.” I glare ahead, giving him five seconds. Already food deprived and suffering from chaffing, fishboy was gonna get it.

  “Can’t handle all this?” he whispers. From the mirror, I saw he focused on my temple, narrowing his gaze. What did he think he’d achieve? Lasering his weirdness into my skull?

  “Lucas,” I say.

  “Both of you knock it off.” Piper leans over to whisper-yell.

  “He started it!”

  “Tell her to participate better.” Lucas didn’t let up.

  “Tell him to take the sock out of his pants!”

  A short “HA!” burst from Lucas right in my face. “Nice one–if it were true! Why don’t you focus on not being a slacker and act like you’ve got more ass to shake.”

  I gasp. “You take that back!”

  “After all the trouble Piper went through to get us these spots in class–”

  “What trouble?!” My face scrunches. Dancers close by, glance at us, nervously. A few, back away. Ostrich teacher blinks, not sure whether to engage. “It took Piper two minutes to sign up online!”

  “Hey!” she snaps. “I was dealing with a bad wifi connection and was in risk of getting bumped back to the home screen. It was like defusing a time bomb.”

  “Oh, excuuuuse me.” I straighten and toss my arms up, accidently–or not–smacking Lucas in the chin.

  “Asshole!” he cries.

  “I JUST WANT A DAMN PANCAKE!” I shout back.

  “Is there a Kokoa Lovell, in here?” someone calls.

  I swivel to the new voice. It belongs to a male zombie at the open doorway. He’s buff, pale green skinned in a ParaFitness employee shirt that shows off a bulging ripped flesh-muscle tissue exposed-physique.

  “I’m Kokoa!” I raise my hand.

  “He meant Bitch Lovell.” Lucas snorts. I flick his right cornea.

  “OW! MY EYE!”

  The zombie guy waves me over. “You’re needed outside.”

  Piper and I exchange a glance. She shrugs. I follow the man into the large gym lobby, bustling with people coming and going grasping energy drinks and duffel bags.

  “Guy’s out there.” He nods a stitched laced jaw towards the glass double doors. Guy? I knew many. One of my brothers? Was it Gavin? Not Jonathan. He was still absent. Whomever, would receive an enthusiastic hug, their disruption a reprieve from the choke hold I was about to unleash on Lucas.

  But then again, why didn’t they come inside?

  I push through the thick doors, and into Monday’s hustle. The weekday brought sunshine, a pleasant warmth and a not so overpowering cool breeze. The sidewalk in front of the large gym building absorbed the many creatures beating the cement, some hurried, others lazily trudging by like the few nine foot ogres with massive ground shaking feet. Behind them, a centaur and unicorn chatted animatedly. Above, spellcasters traveled on broomsticks; purple and gold smoke left in their trail. My gaze drifted downward to the road.

  At the curb was parked a sleek limo.

  Time slowed. Rapid chatter, steps, honking horns–muted. Flying demon wings stilled in mid-arc.

  Well, at least in my mind the surrounding blurred.

  All that mattered was the man leaning against the luxurious vehicle.

  Damn.

  Embodiment wealth. Oozing with sex. Dangerous from shiny leather shoes to smooth auburn hair.

  Adrian Galzra.

  And here I am, an opposite in every way, closing the gap.

  “Darling.” His greeting, curling a wispy blonde hair strand behind my ear. Hot fingertips tingle the skin. As I stood before the dragon–who successfully ignited every fiber–the beast smiled and it occurred then that we do have something in common...

  “Adrian.” I smooth a hand down his broad torso. His eyes blaze orange.

  We like to drive each other wild.

  “Good morning.” He said it huskily. Deliciously.

  “Good morning to you too.” In reply, hopefully I accomplish a formal tone. His mouth quirked. Nice, he found me amusing. “This is a nice surprise.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” Then he opened the limo’s backseat door. “Let’s take a quick ride.”

  “Oh?” Brows touch my hairline.

  “I’ll have you back shortly.”

  Never one to deprive curiosity–though, my stomach still whined–I hoped in. Grimstone’s practical prince followed, occupying the row across me. A button was pressed, and the tinted port window rolled. Adrian told the driver to head down the main strip then make a U-turn. No rush, though. Decent time... for what exactly? The driver nods before the port closed and the limo pulls into the automobile river.

  “Snazzy.” I appraised the midnight interior.

  “Thank you.” Adrian chuckles, relaxing into a pose that stretched every yummy inch of him. Sorry, I wasn’t looking at the mini bar anymore. I match his position. His gaze drops to my midriff.

  “How’s class?” he asks.

  “Unbearable. There aren’t any snacks and–um, how’d you know...?”

  He merely arches an eyebrow. Really?

  “Never mind.” The dragon had many sources. Duh, Kokoa. “I have work afterwards, so there’s that to balk at.” I shrug. “What about you?” Continuing this light opening conversation. “Surely you’re needed somewhere...” I let hang. He cracks his neck.

  “Always,” he says, notably without feeling. “I’m required in thirty for a meeting at the estate.”

  “Estate...?”

  “The clan’s estate.” He referred to his fire breathing linage, all of whom smoothly govern the island.

  “So, your family home?” I cock my head. A wrinkle appears in between his dark eyebrows. I hid mild astonishment as he recovers from confusion.

  “Ah, yes.” He nods. Alrighty.

  “Well, I’m flattered you’d used the time before to hang out with me. Actually, it’s a win-win all around. You got me out of possibly committing homicide on my friend.”

  “You’re welcome and I wonder what you’d do to someone who isn’t your friend.”

  “Depends.” I shrug, smile then bite my lip. “Are they cute?” Eyeing him head to toe. The she-wolf wagged her tail.

  Adrian grins, crookedly. Not poster or toothpaste commercial worthy perfection. But flawed and not rehearsed for the many faces I’m sure he comes across every day. Almost bashful. Off guard.

  Yeah, I caused that.

  “It’s been awhile.” I hedge. A short while. Two weeks since we last talked. It was the night of my birthday, when he showed me his dragon, left me with a cryptic message about owning something no other man does of me and a miniature amethyst wolf figure that I now keep on my dresser. It’s next to the handmade bracelet done by Jonathan, my hunky lion bestie who’s still in Botswana.

  I’m not sure where Adrian and I stood, or if there were even enough legs to support our whatever status. We started differently than most people would meet.

  Like the fact that he saw my ass before my face.

  Hey, I do strange things. And sneaking Polaroid pics of my tan bum into the car of a dragon is one of them. Especially those I find very attractive.

  “Mhmm, yes. I’ve been meaning to have you... alone again.” He rubs his jaw. In a flash, hunger slits his pupils and goldish-green scales flutter up his neck. As quickly as they appeared, they were gone.

  “Considering what happened the last time we were alone, I’m curious why this time?” I comment. The tension spikes then. I shift in my seat, squeaking the material. Cue sudden appearance insecurities. Gods, please no butt sweat. Oh, damn, did I smell like it? Too late to do a pit check. Shit, my hair!

  And of course, Adrian leans forwards and crooks a finger, signaling I do the same.

  Inches apart, he captures my hands. Hesitation rises as I catch vulnerability residing within his orange gaze.

&
nbsp; “Adrian...” As if the she-wolf harnessed calming magic–news to me since I thought I only wielded chaos–Adrian’s shoulders ease some.

  “Is it so wrong to want to be near you again?”

  I, Queen of the Bold and Blunt actually stumble on his admission.

  “Uh, n-no, no. Not at all.” Heat pools in my cheeks. A big fat no. I’d wondered ever since when we’d meet again. Craved it, actually.

  “Good.” He smiles, boyishly. “Cinnamon roll?”

  The treat materializes amidst a yellow flame in my palms. The harmless flame left the roll perfectly warm. Gooey cinnamon, brown sugar and frosting layered on top of thick golden brown goodness. I inhale its hot dough fragrant smoky wisps. My eyes go into the back of my skull.

  “Holy shit that smells amazing.” I didn’t linger further and dove right in, tasting sugar and magic. Mmmm.

  “Kokoa...” Adrian watches with open intrigue. Then leans to quickly swipe a glob of frosting near my mouth with his tongue. Too quick, I didn’t get a chance to relish the action. He smirks.

  “Sneaky bastard.”

  He laughs and sits back. Arm draped along the seat tops. A visible change occurred. One that wasn’t my favorite. Serious Adrian slipped into place.

  “There is a point to this ride. Earlier, you did not specify whether you had any engagements this evening.”

  “Well, I pictured myself in the hot tub around nine, eating spaghetti. And maybe skeet shootin’ pine cones around midnight.” I shove in the remaining cinnamon roll chunk, making my belly smile. How long did it take? Two minutes? Less than one to eat the whole thing? Still doesn’t beat past records.

  To my response on possible evening activities, Adrian didn’t seem impressed.

  “Unless, that’s not considered as real plans at all, then never mind, I’ve got nothing going,” I say after swallowing.

  Adrian considers me for a beat then says, “I’d like to take you to dinner tonight.”

  The cinnamon roll chunk jumped north. I cough, erratically.

  “Are you alright?” an alarmed Adrian asks. He made a move to help. I waved him off, but accepted the water bottle he produced from a mini fridge.

  Once my raw throat settled and allowed speech, I gasp out, “Really? Y-you, you’re asking me out? On... a d-date?”