Elements of Mischief (Hijinks Harem Book 1)

by C. M. Stunich

  “Lightning’s pretty standard for a spirit elemental, right?” I asked, but nobody looked convinced and I was already flummoxed enough as it was. Best to just let sleeping dogs lie … “Can we go now?” I asked, glancing over at George in his leather pants and collar. Now if there was only … oh my god, there was! There was a leash.

  I wondered if I got to hold it …

  My eyes wandered over and found Reg in an unzipped leather jacket, a set of black straps in an X over his muscular chest and some … like, leather dude panty things. Sorry, but I was a barista, not Anastasia Steele. I didn’t know what all this shit was called.

  “We better get out of here,” I said, swallowing back my hormones and sneaking out the front door. Of course, I thought the cool crisp air outside would calm the aching heat I felt creeping over my skin. But then I saw Alberta O'Sullivan, my bitchy Irish neighbor, and the heat in my skin just turned to anger instead.

  “I dinna think I would ever say this to a complete stranger,” she began, but I was already about two hundred percent sure that however she was about to insult me, she’d said it many, many times in her long, long, long, long, long life. Bitch was ancient. “But you look like a common floozy.”

  I paused there on the steps in a miniskirt and vinyl top, my skin painted in runes, and thought up some quick lie about body paint or …

  “Elemental slut,” she continued, digging through my garbage.

  Wait. What?

  “Brownie,” Reg whispered, licking the curve of my ear as he passed by.

  “Brownie?” I asked stupidly, still staring down at Mrs. O'Sullivan in surprise. “You just ate.”

  “Brownies are a type of fae, sug,” Shane said, pausing next to me in all his ass-less glory. I was just glad Mrs. O'Sullivan was the only neighbor on the block. We were at the end of a cul-de-sac in an underdeveloped area, the old houses still clinging to part of the vast estates that had once been theirs.

  “You better not be thinking of selling this house,” Grams whispered from behind me, sending a bright shiver of ice down my spine. I glanced over my shoulder and found her standing there with a cup of tea in one hand. I’d almost forgotten about her in all the, uh, excitement. George and Billy waltzed right through her, making Gram frown. “Arizona Smoke,” she started, but I just reached out and pulled the door shut behind me.

  One thing at a time.

  One bloody cocksucking thing.

  “Mrs. O'Sullivan … is a faerie?” I asked, heading down the steps with George and wondering if Grams was going to make me pay for my rudeness later. “Why is everyone in my life suddenly an obscure supernatural being I’ve never heard of before? I thought you said you people were rare—where are all the humans?”

  “Like to like,” Shane said, opening the sliding door of his plumbing van for me. It would’ve been, like, chivalrous or something if it didn’t have a toilet emblazoned on the side. “Those of us in the know tend to stick together. Now hop in.”

  “I canna even imagine what yer poor dead grandmother would say if she saw ya now,” Alberta continued, clucking her tongue at me. I can, I thought, glancing over my shoulder and watching as the woman, er, brownie, extracted several pieces of broken pipe from the trash can.

  “You’re judging me?” I asked, crooking a brow. “While you dig through the rubbish bin?”

  “Rubbish bin,” Britt giggled as she leaned against the side of the van and fucked around with her phone. “You’re so cute and British.”

  I gritted my teeth and climbed inside the car, noticing as I did that there was absolutely zero equipment in here, just a bunch of seats. Actually, it was a lot nicer than I’d expected.

  “You guys don’t have any equipment?” I asked as Reg climbed in the front seat and flashed a grin over his shoulder.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he purred, cupping his junk and winking at me.

  I frowned and then did a double take as I looked and saw wings protruding from the back of Mrs. O'Sullivan’s baggy shawl. They looked like they were made of bark.

  “What … the … are you taking the piss with me?!”

  “British,” Britt chuckled again as she climbed in next to me and took a glance out the window. “Oh, that? Those have always been there. She’s just glamoured against humans. Now that you’re an English elemental instead of a human—”

  “I’m still human,” I inserted, but it sounded like a feeble attempt at self-denial, even to me.

  “Now that you’re an English elemental,” Britt repeated, just to piss me off, “you can see what’s really there. Brownies are house spirits.”

  “That’s … nice,” I said as I put two fingers up to my temple and rubbed therapeutically. “No, really. More supernatural stuff. I love it. Keep it comin’.”

  “Mmm,” Britt murmured as she reapplied her glossy pink lipstick. “Did I mention I have a date with the local alpha male?”

  “You … what?!” I asked, giving her a look. “Can’t you read sarcasm? I was being sarcastic. Don’t tell me anything else. I feel like my head’s about to explode.”

  “I’d sure like my head to explode,” Reg murmured from up front as Shane took the driver’s seat. Behind me, Billy lounged like he was on his way to the club, and George studied Alberta with a curious expression.

  “Come on, girl. You’re all worldly and shit, right? You’ve seen exotic places I’ve never even dreamed of visiting,” Britt continued, doing nothing to ease the headache building between my eyes.

  “We’ve been over this before—Sydney does not count as an exotic locale.”

  “No, but Cleveland does,” Britt said, flashing me a grin and then laughing when I raised a skeptical brow. “Come on, cheer up! Your world’s just tripled in size, sweetie.”

  “Quadrupled, actually,” Billy corrected from behind me.

  I ignored him.

  “Right,” I said, leaning back in my seat and trying not to notice the smells in the van. Like, I was seriously in heat or something because I swear, I could taste each one of the guys’ scents on the back of my tongue, this heady, masculine display that had me dripping … sweat. Okay, and other things. “First, I fucked you guys because you said I’d die. And now that I’ve fucked you guys, you think I might die. Do you see where maybe I’m having just the teensiest little issue here?”

  “Maybe you should fuck us again and see if things balance out?” Billy suggested, dragging his tongue across his lower lip suggestively.

  Fuck. Me.

  I wanted so badly to be furious, but my thighs were clenching with a life of their own and my nipples were so hard they actually hurt in this death trap of a 'top'.

  “What Billy means, honey doll, is that we'll get some answers from the COCS Head when we get there. Until then, you have the four of us”—Britt's fake cough interrupted Shane—“five of us, to keep you safe.”

  “You're in good hands, Blossom,” George assured me with a gentle smile.

  “And if you really need reassurance, I am more than happy to show you just how good these hands can be,” Reg suggested and I rolled my eyes. How the hell did I get into this mess? Oh yeah, that's right. Fucking dragons in my drains.

  “Hey, you guys don't think that there was a supernatural influence over those tree roots that ruined my plumbing, do you? It kind of seems coincidental …” It was another idea that had been gnawing at me since discovering their exposure was less accidental than they made it out to be. The awkward silence in the car told me everything I needed to know.

  Mother. Fuckers.

  “Seriously?” I hissed, anger flaring hot once more, “You fucked up my pipes, causing thousands of dollars of damage, for what?! A supernatural fuck-fest?”

  “It wasn't us, sug,” Shane drawled, sighing heavily, “but we suspect Charlie's sext had a hand in it.”

  “That particular species of tree doesn't have mischievous roots like that,” George explained. “I knew there had to have been elemental involvement the second we saw them.”r />
  “Well then Charlie can fucking well reimburse me the seventeen thousand he quoted me to fix them!” I was a raging inferno of anger now, which was thankfully putting my lust on hold for a few seconds. Probably a good thing—I was halfway ready to rip off my panties and let Billy and Reg fuck me fast and dirty right there in the van while we drove.

  “Uh, I don't think that's quite how it works, Sugar Tits,” Reg told me with a small, amused smile. “But I would fucking love to see you tell him that.”

  “Good,” I muttered, “I fucking will.”

  “And make him pay you in Australian pounds,” Britt piped up from beside me, “'cause, ya know, the exchange rate means you get more money that way.”

  “Jesus, wolf-girl. Other way around,” Billy snickered from behind us, reaching out and tugging on Britt's hair playfully, “she'd get less money if he paid in Australian dollars.”

  “Is that right, babe?” she asked me, blinking her big doe eyes at me and cocking her head like a confused puppy.

  “I don't know,” I said tiredly back, “I'm a barista, not a fucking accountant.”

  “Not anymore, you're not,” Shane said firmly, his eyes on the road as he drove, but his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

  “Oh, yeah I know right?” Britt agreed. “Sucks about you getting the sack. People are fucking assholes. That's why I prefer animals.”

  Shane's knuckles eased up in his death grip and I knew he thought he'd won this round.

  Asshole.

  “Let's just get to COCS without anymore arguments, okay?” George suggested, running a finger underneath his collar uncomfortably. “The sooner we can get changed, the better. I still don't understand why I always have to wear the collar and leash.”

  “Because you also don't mind sucking a bit of dick, hon,” Shane drawled and met my eyes in the rearview mirror. Damn if I wasn't suddenly turned on again. How did they fucking do that?

  Britt made an over-sexualized groan from beside me, so she clearly seconded that opinion. Apparently the idea of my husband sucking my other husband's dick really did it for her. I gave her a look and she shrugged innocently back at me.

  “Yours are so hot, I might have to get four of my own,” she whispered as I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms underneath my breasts.

  “Hey, Firebug,” Billy's smoky voice whispered in my ear as his hand slid over the back of my neck, “no need to feel jealous. Our plumbing tools are reserved for one job only, now.”

  “Lucky you've got more than one pipe to work on, though,” Reg added, turning in his seat to wink at me.

  “Alright. No one speak for the rest of the drive.” It was the only way we were all going to make it there in one piece.

  No one spoke again until we pulled up at the literal sprawling mansion that must be Charlie's house, but Billy kept his hand on my throat, gently stroking the skin every now and then.

  One thing was for fucking sure—plumbing must pay well. An actual, honest to god butler answered the door. A butler. Silly penguin suit, British accent, and all.

  “Seriously?” I muttered under my breath to Reg as I sashayed into the marble floored foyer of his father's house. In six inch stiletto lace-up boots, there was only one way to walk—sashay.

  “The master is waiting for you in the great room,” the butler told us with his nose upturned, “can I take your coats?”

  Sort of a stupid question, given we were barely in clothing, let alone coats. Reg just flipped a hand at the elderly man dismissively and led us deeper into the house.

  “There was really no need to be rude,” I whispered, scolding the water elemental's appalling manners, but he just gave me a crooked grin and a quick ass grab.

  “He's not a person, Sugar Tits, he's a golem.” He managed to retract his hand just before I smacked it. Bad enough knowing Grams witnessed my group, ah, plunging, without Reg's parents catching us playing grab ass in the hallway.

  “Sorry,” I told him, giving Reg a lippy little smile, “but I'm not taking the bait. I don't know what a golem is and I don't care.”

  “Sure you don't,” Reg said, folding his hands together behind his head, “and I'm not interested in fucking you in my childhood bedroom. We all tell lies every now and again.”

  I bumped him with my shoulder, knocking him off course a little. It was a familiar sort of move, like we'd known each other forever. I didn't like that; it scared the shit out of me. I mean, I was all for insta-lust, but insta-love or even insta-friendship? Gross.

  “So, do you like, have a mom or something?” I asked, and Reg laughed. “Billy already tried to explain your totally fucked-up birds and the bees …” I paused, reconsidered. “And the bees and the bees and the bees situation, so … do you really have four dads and a mom?”

  “No,” Reg said, and I felt a slight rush of relief. Maybe Reg'd been dicking around with me ... “I have five dads and a mom.”

  “You have five fucking dads?” I asked as he flashed me a sharp grin and pushed open a pair of doors into a room that looked like it was sucked right out of the he-man lodge on The Stepford Wives. Yep. Yep. Looking at all this, uh, masculine décor (and I say that ironically since, you know, gender is a social construct and all that), it was pretty obvious there was only one woman in this house. “Where did the fifth come from?”

  “This is my mom's hunting lodge,” Reg said, ignoring my question with a loose shrug of his left shoulder. “She programmed the butler to call it the 'great room',” he made little quotes with his fingers, “because she thinks it sounds all formal and shit.”

  Well.

  His mom's hunting lodge.

  That would teach me to make gender-based assumptions.

  I only had a few seconds to think on that because as soon as I stepped over the threshold and into the room proper, I felt it. Power. Magic.

  My lips went dry and my throat constricted with nerves.

  As soon as I saw her, I knew that this mother-in-law would be a real son of a bitch.

  “Oh god.” I almost turned around and started running. Would have, too, if I hadn't taken a few steps backward and slammed into Shane's sweet, soapy smelling man chest. Grr. “Please tell me I don't have to meet three more women like this,” I whispered as Shane put his big hands on my shoulders and kept me facing forward.

  “No, sweet pea. Reg's family raised us all; remember?”

  That was comforting…ish. But then, the fact that my very first time seeing Reg's mom's face was when she turned around and cocked a shotgun in my direction did not bode well for future engagements.

  “Reginald,” she said with a tight smile, her face as youthful as, well, mine.

  Like, basically we looked like we were exactly the same age.

  “Do elementals not … get old and kick the bucket?” I whispered to Shane.

  “Later, baby cakes,” he drawled in my ear, making me nice and hot and bothered … in front of a woman who looked like she wanted to blow my head off.

  “Mom,” he said and then hooked an evil sideways grin, “or Mum as the new Mrs. Copthorne might say.”

  I whipped my head over to gape at Reg, unsure as to whether I was more concerned by the fact that I'd just now learned his last name—or because he called me Mrs.

  Gross.

  “This is her then,” Reg's mom said, and I noticed that she was wearing khaki pants and a white button-up. Here I was, basically naked in bondage wear and wet panties. Fan-frigging-tastic.

  The woman—Mother Reginald let's call her—flipped some long blonde hair over one shoulder and moved across the massive room toward me, her brown leather boots slapping a stern rhythm across the marble floors. She was smiling, but I noticed she didn't put the shotgun down.

  “You are so fucked,” Britt said from behind me, doing little to boost my confidence.

  “She's so …” Reg's mom looked up and down and gestured randomly. “She's a spirit elemental, that's for sure.”

  Hmm. That didn't exactly sound like a compli
ment, now did it?

  “Boys.” Mother Reginald kissed Reg on the cheek, then Billy, George, carefully craned around me for Shane. “I'm so proud of you.”

  My new mother-in-law beamed at the guys … and then just sort of dropped a soggy gaze onto my face.

  I guess you'll have to do, that's what that face said.

  “You really are … one in a million,” she told me, looking me up and down again. Her blue gaze traced the runes on my skin carefully. “I'm Joan, by the way,” she continued, holding out a hand for me to shake. “I wish we were meeting on better terms, but honestly, this issue with C.O.C.S.,” she said, saying each letter in the acronym individually. Hmm. Yet another issue where I had to wonder if I were being duped … “Is something we need to take seriously.”

  Joan stepped back, still resting the barrel of the shotgun on her shoulder.

  “Really, though, waiting so long to mark a shimmer? That was asking for trouble.” Joan turned around and moved over to a rack on the wall, resting the shotgun against the green velvet backdrop. There was nothing unusual about displaying guns, but fully loaded ones? Hmm. This was a woman I was going to have to watch out for. “Now get upstairs and make nice. We have more important things to worry about.”

  “That's it?” Reg asked, stepping into the room in his … leather banana hammock, boots, and jacket. “That's all you have to say? We found our soul mate, Mom, for fuck's sake. Show a little good cheer.”

  My cheeks flamed all the way out at the words soul mate.

  “Wow, you really move fast. One day, they're plumbers. The next, soul mates,” Britt whispered in my left ear.

  “We are not soul mates,” I hissed out, but Joan was already talking again

  “Soul mates?” she said, one blonde brow quirked in mock surprise. “Well, I don't know about that.”

  I gritted my teeth. Hey, it was totally cool for me to be doubtful about a bunch of strange plumber dragon weirdos, but for her to question it? Now that just pissed me off.