by Tate James
His smile spread wider, and I already knew I wasn’t getting any straight answers from him. I also knew I wasn’t off the mark because he didn’t act confused in the least by my questions.
“You think I’m sexy, huh?” He, of course, grabbed onto the compliment and ran with it. Typical man. “Maybe that explains what happened when I touched you? You were just overcome by my raw sex appeal?”
I rolled my eyes, but the thought had crossed my mind. Maybe the stress of my day was finally catching up to me and making me space out. “Sure, keep your secrets for now,” I conceded. “I think I can get you to fess up by the time this bottle is empty.” I tapped the whiskey bottle with my glitter-painted fingernail, and Hunter barked a laugh.
“You think so, Cleo?” he purred my damn name, and I found myself focusing way too hard on his mouth. “Challenge accepted.”
Hunter shifted in his seat so that his back was to the band—and Raze—and his focus was locked entirely on me. Almost as though he was taunting me, his fingers brushed against mine as he took the glass I was offering him.
For that brief moment of contact, the same damn thing happened, and when our skin parted, I could feel my heart thundering like I’d been running. Or... some other form of vigorous exercise.
Hunter took my challenge seriously but was dragging me along with him. By the time Raze’s set finished, we only had an inch left in the bottle and were both laughing like hyenas over some ridiculous story Hunter had just told.
“Seriously?” the darkly handsome musician snapped as he rejoined us and picked up the almost empty bottle.
A lazy, drunk smile pulled at my lips, and I shrugged. “Don’t blame me; I was fine with beer until you bought that.”
Raze glared at me a moment, then shifted an exasperated look to Hunter. “This is your idea of entertaining Cleo?”
“Damn Skippy, it is,” Hunter slurred slightly as he replied with a grin. “We were just getting to know each other better, and what better way than with a little social lubrication, mate?”
Whatever reprimand Raze was about to dish out was interrupted by the arrival of a third man with equally startling good looks. He was tall, like the other two, but with naturally sun-lightened blond hair. For some reason, my drunken brain decided he must really love nature. Hiking and rock climbing and shit. He just looked like the type, all muscled and tanned and whatnot.
“Hey, Boden!” Hunter greeted the newcomer with a slap on the back. “You’re back early!”
The blond guy frowned slightly at Hunter’s inebriated state, then flickered a curious look at me. “Yeah, I had a feeling there might be something going on tonight.” His frown smoothed out, and he offered me a hand to shake. “I apologize for my friend’s manners, miss. I’m Boden. You are...?”
“Cleo,” I replied, taking his hand in mine. “Technically, that’s not my name. It’s a nickname that Meg gave me when we were kids; my real name is Margaret.”
Startled at the little pile of word vomit that had just spewed from my mouth, I clapped my free hand over my lips. The new guy hadn’t released me from his grip yet but looked seriously amused by my confession.
“It’s nice to meet you, Cleo,” he finally said and let go of my fingers.
I sighed in relief that he hadn’t decided to use my real name, but a quick glance at Raze’s smug face said I would probably be hearing it from him. Dammit.
“Sorry, I don’t know why I just told you that,” I admitted as Boden dragged a stool over to sit between Hunter and me. “All the whiskey must have loosened up my filter a bit.”
“Looks like I missed all the fun,” he commented, raising his brows at the bottle still held between Raze’s fingers, but the surly rocker just scowled back.
“Hardly,” he grunted, flicking a glare between Hunter and myself like we were naughty children. “These two have been drinking like fish and then howling with laughter over something while I was playing with the band. What was so funny, anyway?”
His question brought back the giggles, and I started shaking silently with laughter as Hunter just shook his head and tried to swallow back his own laughter.
After a few breaths, he explained. “I was telling Cleo about our trip to Cancun.”
This, of course, set the two of us off again in drunken giggles while Boden grinned and Raze’s glare darkened like a toxic storm cloud. Of course he wouldn’t have found it funny; the whole story of their trip to Cancun involved how Raze had accidently drugged himself and streaked through a crowded nightclub, evading all the security and eventually needing to be tackled by a drag queen.
With a pissy look on his face, Raze poured the remainder of the whiskey into his glass, then slammed it back in one huge gulp.
“Oh! End of the bottle!” I cried out, pointing to the empty container, then reaching past Boden to whack Hunter on the arm. Even drunk as I was, I was careful to whack him on the shirtsleeve, not his bare skin. As good as it felt when his skin touched mine, it was tripping me the hell out, and I wanted an explanation before giving in to it.
“What does that mean?” Boden asked us, raising just one brow. Such a cool trick.
“It means Hunter has to explain what the hell is going on here,” I explained, waving a hand around the table at the three of them.
Raze frowned. “Here? What do you mean, Margaret?”
My jaw clenched, and I ground my teeth in anger. I just freaking knew he was going to use my real name. Asshole.
“Cleo thinks there is something suspicious going on, that we don’t belong here in Edan and that we shouldn’t be so interested in a beautiful, charismatic, magenta-haired pocket rocket like her.” Hunter was still slurring a fraction, but I got the feeling he wasn’t quite as drunk as he was pretending to be. Just like me. Sneaky fucker. I had freakishly good tolerance for my liquor, and despite the fact that I was a little drunk, I was definitely playing it up in the hope that Hunter would let his guard down.
Boden and Raze both looked at me, then back at Hunter as though curious to see how he planned on explaining the weirdness.
“Well?” I prompted, curious myself to hear what he had to say.
Hunter sucked in a deep breath and then leveled me with a direct stare. “You’re right. It’s no coincidence that you broke down where you did or that we found you. We’ve actually been here for weeks, waiting for you.”
My smile faltered, and uneasiness clenched at my gut. “That’s... an odd thing. Why would you be waiting for me?”
Holy mother freaking Cats, they really are serial killers. All of them. They’ve targeted me!
“Because you are the descendant of Queen Hatshepsut who was chosen by Ra in 1501 BC to bear the Amulet of Light. We are your magically sworn guardians, and it was only a matter of time before fate pulled the four of us together.” Hunter delivered this with such a straight face that I almost believed him. Almost. Except for how utterly insane he sounded.
After an extended silence, within which the three of them just stared at me, I started laughing.
“Okay sure, good answer. Magic. How silly of me not to think of that.” I chuckled as I ran my fingers through my probably messed-up pink hair. “Serves me right for not specifying I wanted the real explanation for all this weirdness.”
Hunter just blinked at me a couple of times, but Boden laughed a little with me. Raze had a small frown marring his beautiful, bronzed features, though, and when he opened his mouth to say something, Boden shot him a look.
“Yep, that’s Hunter for you,” Boden agreed, giving me a warm smile. “Always quick to make up wild stories. Can I grab anyone else a drink?” He pushed off his stool and took all our orders before heading to the bar.
Left with Raze and Hunter, I eyed the two of them with resignation. “All right, fine. Keep your secrets. Just don’t turn out to be serial killers, or we will have problems, okay?”
For the first time since we’d met, Raze almost cracked a smile. The corners of his mouth lifted just a fraction, a
nd his glowing green eyes seemed to project a little less anger than they had a moment ago. “Not serial killers,” he assured me.
“Good.” I nodded, accepting the margarita that Boden returned with. “Now, I don’t suppose any of you know how to fix my van? Hunter suggested that it might be a few days before I can even get it towed into town, let alone fixed.”
Boden coughed a laugh. “Hunter didn’t tell you? He’s a mechanic.”
My jaw dropped open, and I glared at the brunette Australian liar.
Hunter just shrugged and looked totally unapologetic. “If I’d just fixed it for you then and there, we never would have had time to hang out. Besides, did you forget the whole part about us being your magical guardians? I didn’t want to have to chase your ass halfway across America when we had a chance to just straight up meet you.”
“Of course,” I deadpanned. “The magical guardian thing. How could I forget?”
Hunter laughed, picking my hand up from where it rested on the table and rubbing small circles across my skin with his thumb. “Tell you what, Cleo. I’ll fix your van tomorrow if you do something for us.”
His touch was doing that weird thing to me again—my vision was tunneling, and I was losing sense of where we were. All I could focus on was Hunter.
“Hmm?” I murmured. “And what is that?”
“Take us with you,” he replied in that sexy, purring voice.
The oddity of his request had me pulling my hand out from under his fingers, and the room rushed back into focus around me. “You want a lift to Texas?” I frowned at him in confusion and glanced at the other two for confirmation.
“Sure, why not?” Hunter shrugged, raising his brows at me in challenge. “If we promise we aren’t serial killers, can we tag along with you on your road trip?”
What happened next, I had no explanation for. Blame it on the alcohol or my crappy day or my poor, starved sex life, but for some insane reason... I didn’t want to say no.
So in a move that I was sure I would come to regret, I nodded. “Okay, deal. You fix my van, and I’ll take you to Texas.” I stuck my hand out for Hunter to shake to seal our deal, but he hesitated a moment with his hand a fraction from mine.
“Are you sure?” he pressed me with a strangely intense gaze. “If you make a deal with a magical being, you’re bound to keep your word.”
I smiled at his continued use of this magical being story. “Uh-huh, sure. I said I’ll take you to Texas, Hunt, it’s not a big thing. Just don’t turn out to be a psycho.” I closed the gap between our hands and shook his before he could fuck around any more. As our palms met, there was a shock of electricity, and I yelped at the same time as Hunter hissed.
“Weird,” I muttered, shaking the lingering tingles out of my hand.
Raze made an annoyed sort of sound, which drew my attention, and I wrinkled my nose at him. For dudes who claimed they weren’t psychopaths, they definitely acted pretty suspiciously. Like the fact that Raze was glaring at me even harder—if that was even possible—like I’d just ruined his life. Or the fact that Boden sagged in his seat and blew out a long breath, like he’d been holding it for a while.
“You guys are so strange,” I muttered, taking a long sip of my drink. “I guess we should call it a night if we’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Nonsense,” Hunter scolded. “This is cause for celebration! Dance with me?”
Without waiting for my response, he grabbed me around the waist and whirled me out into the clear piece of space near the stage. No one else was dancing, but the combination of excessive amounts of alcohol, plus the intoxicating brushes of Hunter’s hands on my skin—whenever they ventured off my clothing—had me dancing along with him in no time at all.
These guys were strange, for sure. But for some reason, my gut was telling me I’d made the right choice in trusting them. Maybe it was the magic? Hah!
Chapter Three
When I woke, I was pretty sure someone was taking a mini-jackhammer to my head. My mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, and I was so freaking hot.
What the hell had happened last night? The last thing I remembered was dancing with Hunter... and then... I squeezed my eyes closed tighter in a lame attempt to clear the headache thumping through my skull. What had happened after dancing with Hunter?
“Stop thinking so hard; you’re giving me a headache,” a deep, purring sort of voice muttered into my hair, and I froze.
“Hunter?” I croaked, turning my head slightly and cracking an eye open. “What the hell are you doing in my bed?” A fuzzy memory of doing tequila shots danced across my brain, and I groaned. “Also, I’m pretty sure it’s the tequila causing your headache, not my loud thinking.”
He mumbled something I couldn’t understand, and his arms tightened around me.
For way longer than what was socially acceptable, I just went with it. His frame totally engulfed my own petite form, and the warmth emanating from his skin made me feel like I was wrapped in a huge fur coat. A fur coat that had wandering hands and a rather long, hard length pressed against my backside.
“Hunter,” I mumbled. “Did we... ah...” I was both searching my fuzzy brain for any memory of how we’d ended up in bed together and having a hard time focusing on making words. The same sensation was back from touching Hunter’s skin, and I couldn’t seem to stop myself from arching my back and grinding my ass against his erection.
He let out a low groan, and his wandering hand closed over my breast—under my tank top. Where the hell was my bra, anyway?
“We didn’t,” he sighed. “But if you keep that up, things will change pretty damn fast.”
My breath caught, and I toyed with the idea of calling his bluff. Why shouldn’t I? We weren’t drunk anymore, and as far as I could remember, he didn’t have a girlfriend or wife stashed somewhere... What would be so wrong with taking things further?
“Hunter!” someone snapped from the driver’s seat of my van. “Tone it down!”
Two things occurred to me simultaneously. One, that was the exact same thing Raze had said last night when I was going all gooey-eyed at Hunter, and two, Boden was driving Candy Jack.
It was probably the second point that saw me shooting out of Hunter’s embrace and onto my feet. The second I did so, however, I regretted it. The movement of my van combined with the movement of my hangover saw me stumbling and winding up sprawled across a very unimpressed looking Raze’s lap.
“Uh, hi?” I peered up at the angry man as I braced myself with a hand on his rather impressive bicep. He had his shoulder-length hair tied up in a messy manbun-type situation and wore a pair of black-framed reading glasses. The effect was a little bit absurd, like they were fashion statement glasses for a “sexy-serious” photoshoot or some crap.
“Is there a reason why you’re half-naked and in my lap, Margaret?” he drawled, sounding both bored and annoyed. Fucker. Now that he pointed it out, though, I realized I was dressed in nothing but my tank top and aqua panties.
How the freaking hell did that happen?
“Actually, asshole, there is,” I snapped back, feeling my anger rising to combat the fuzziness of my hangover. “Because your lap happens to be sitting on my couch inside my van. What the hell is going on, anyway? Why is Boden driving Jack, and where the fuck are we going? Oh my cats, are you kidnapping me in my own van?”
Suddenly panicked, I scrambled off Raze’s lap and backed away from him, which was all of about two feet until my back hit the little kitchenette and my elbow smacked painfully on the edge of the counter.
“Why would we kidnap you in this piece of shit?” Raze snorted and rolled his eyes. Apparently when I’d landed in his lap, I had knocked a book from his hands, which he picked up and resumed reading like I wasn’t even there.
Feeling equal levels of panic and anger rising within me, my breath started spiking and I frantically looked for an escape route.
“Cleo, chill,” Hunter groaned from the depths of my bed. I had b
een so proud of myself when I had managed to squeeze a king size mattress into the back of Candy Jack. I’d lost a bunch of storage space to do it, but I did love to starfish in my sleep. Now, though, it had been invaded by the second coming of Ivan Milat—the infamous Australian backpacker murderer—and I was already picturing that beautiful mattress soaked in my blood.
Boden cursed something and braked sharply, pulling Candy Jack over to a stop on the gravel strip along the side of the road. Unfortunately, he had jerked the wheel so hard that I’d been sent flying again. Straight back into Raze’s lap.
Fuck!
“Cleo, you need to calm down,” the blond man advised me from the front seat as he turned to look at me. “You’re going to make me crash with how hard you’re projecting your emotions.”
“Excuse me?” I spluttered in outrage, trying to scramble out of Raze’s lap—again—and finding his huge hands locked to my waist, keeping me where I was. Scowling at him, I smacked his hands off me and stood back up to glare daggers at Boden. “You were driving my van while I was passed out half naked under a total freaking stranger! And you’re telling me to stop projecting my emotions? What crazy-ass planet are you from where this is a situation not to freak the fuck out about?”
Raze, who I was fast figuring out was an even bigger douche canoe than I’d given him credit for, snorted and rolled his eyes. “Told you she wasn’t taking this seriously.”
It took all my willpower to just grind my teeth and not start shrieking for help. Not that it was going to do me much good; a quick glance out the window showed we weren’t exactly in a densely populated area.
