Elements of Ruin (Hijinks Harem Book 2)

by C. M. Stunich

  Joan chuckled and I felt my lips pull down in a frown.

  “I'll wear the white dress,” I said loudly, stabbing my own French toast with menace, “and walk the aisle and all that shit. Oh, but I get to pick the caterer and the floral arrangements. I'm basically cool with—”

  “Do you agree to have a traditional elemental wedding?” Joan asked, rising to her feet so suddenly she almost toppled her own chair.

  “Mom!” Reg shouted and Shane literally reached behind my head and curled his warm, dry palm over my lips. “You're impossible!” He stood up, throwing his fork onto his plate. “Guys, let's go upstairs and get ready; I'm done with this shit.”

  “Reginald!” Joan pleaded and for the first time since I'd met her, I felt like I was actually seeing through her bitchy, polished facade. “Honey, please.”

  Shane dropped his hand from my mouth with a sigh and I gave him a look, like what the fuck was that about?

  “She was trying to get you to agree to a traditional elemental wedding, sugar pea,” Shane said, pushing his chair out from the table and rising to his feet. He helped me out of my mine and hooked our arms. “Dad,” he said with a curt nod of his chin, gaze flicking around all six of Joan's males, like that single Dad was enough to encompass them. “Thanks for breakfast and sorry we gotta split like firewood.”

  He pulled me away and after the screaming, wailing Joan Copthorne.

  “Traditional elemental wedding,” I said, putting together the wordplay. “Which … doesn't entail a white dress?”

  “A white dress?” Shane asked, and then he threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, hell naw. Elementals aren't allowed to have civil marriages if their spirit isn't fully marked. So, well, fucking would be required before marriage—as any sensible person ought to do. Getting married without seeing how well you connect beneath the sheets?” Shane flicked his denim blue eyes in my direction, as if to say and you know we connect well, sug. Or hell, maybe I was just imagining it because I wished I hadn't stopped him from fingering me back there? “Now, that's barbaric,” he added as we climbed to the top of the steps and found Reg with his arms crossed over his chest, fingertips absently tapping at his full sleeve of Sailor Jerry tattoos.

  “Why are you doing this to me, Reginald?” Joan asked, sobbing, thick gobs of black mascara sliding down her cheeks. “You're doing this on purpose to punish me.”

  “Mom, this isn't about you,” Reg said with a sigh, waving for us to continue on past him and into the boys' bedroom. Billy scooted right past us, keeping his head down and face turned away …

  “William!” Joan squeaked and he cringed, pausing and turning to look at her with a sympathetic expression. “I wasn't trying to trick her into anything—she said she wanted a traditional wedding …”

  “Mom,” Reg said, cutting her off and taking a step closer, putting his hands on either of her shoulders. He leaned down to look into her face. “You're a smart woman, Joan Copthorne, one of the most intelligent people I've ever met. And that's how I know for sure that you were trying to trick my new spirit—a woman who's been living as a human for thirty years—”

  “Twenty-nine,” I whispered, but nobody was listening to me.

  “Into a seven-way orgy in front of an entire room of COCS,” Reg finished and I felt my brows go up.

  “So, let me get this straight,” I began as I turned to Shane and looked him straight in the eye. “A traditional elemental wedding involves … a public orgy? Do you realize that your people are seriously weird?”

  “Our people, sugar, our people,” Shane said, letting the corner of his lip twist up in a wary half-smile. “And if you'd formally agreed to a traditional wedding, you'd have been bound by magic to follow through on your commitment. That's what's got Reg so dang sour.”

  “She tried to … trick me into an orgy?! After calling me a whore?!” I glared at the back of Joan's head, but she was more concerned with groveling to Reg than she was dealing with me. “And also, like, how would that even work? I mean, how do you force someone into an orgy?”

  “Magic, sugar, all magic,” Shane said, but he was also more concerned with the fight between Reg and Joan than my questions.

  I narrowed my eyes and sighed.

  I swear to God, these people had the weirdest, most barbaric fucking customs known to man. I wasn't entirely sure they weren't just making them up as they went along.

  “That's fucked up!” I exclaimed, curling my lip at Joan in disgust and storming into the boys' bedroom. I'd had e-fucking-nough of Joan sneaky-bitch Copthorne.

  “What is, Firebug?” Billy asked, following me in and flopping down on the massive bed underneath the ceiling mirror. “The orgy?”

  “No, not the orgy, I'm all for that. I just mean your mother forcing us into a public orgy in front of all your distant relatives and shit. That's just … that's wrong on so many levels I don't even … Billy that's just fucking gross!” I was almost at a loss for words I was so damn horrified at what had almost gone down.

  “Uh, yeah, that's why we're all so pissed right now.” He reached for my hand and tugged me down onto the bed with him so that we were both staring up at the mirror. My runes shimmered faintly, still worked up from the brief fingering Shane had started under the table, but even I knew this was no time for fucking. The sky was already beginning to lighten outside, and I for one didn't want to find out what faeries did when they were pissed off.

  “Wait, let's come back to the fact that you're all for a seven-way orgy,” Dustin's lilting Irish accent chuckled, and he walked over until he stood beside the bed looking down at us. From this position on the tall bed, I was almost within tongue's reach of his cock, and the sexual frustration of our magic fight came flooding back.

  “Not now, Dusty,” Warden snapped. “We have bigger fish to filet. Smokey, is that what you're planning on wearing to court?”

  “Um.” I looked down at my black and white polka dot dress and remembered my lack of panties. Not to mention the, ah, juices that were probably staining my skirt. “No, I had better change.”

  Sitting up, I looked around and frowned. Reg and Shane were still down the corridor somewhere arguing with Joan because I could hear her weeping sobs from here. My other four husbands were all here though, and looking at me expectantly.

  “I don't have any clothes here,” I pointed out. “Because I have my own house … remember?”

  “Oh, I'll find you something,” George offered. “We, um, might have had some clothes ordered for you after that first day we met.”

  My head tilted to the side as I considered George's words. That was either the sweetest, or the creepiest thing I'd heard in a long time. George was already disappearing into a huge walk-in closet though so I didn't have a chance to think on it any further.

  “Just grab me jeans or something!” I called after him and Billy snorted a laugh as his hand trailed down my spine in a lazy pattern.

  “Good luck,” he snickered.

  “Why do you say that?” I frowned down at him.

  “Because George is a fucking hippy. I guarantee you that he will bring you back something insanely girly. Just wait and see.” Billy grinned at me, like he was going to enjoy whatever George chose and I groaned.

  “George! Nothing too girly! I still need to be able to fight if I have to!” I yelled after him, but got no response from the depths of the closet. Heh, as if George was in the closet. That man was more than comfortable in his sliding sexuality.

  We waited a few moments more, before George burst out in a whirlwind of lace and tulle and pastel colors that looked like My Little Pony had just thrown up everywhere.

  “Here,” he puffed, holding out the … thing … to me and beaming.

  “I saw this and immediately thought of you. I hope it fits!” He was so damn excited, his lips split in a wild grin, while I eyed the froufrou creation in distaste.

  “Um, George?” I started, but then immediately saw his face fall. Ah shit.

  “You h
ate it, don't you?” he asked in a small voice, and I just knew I couldn't bring myself to hurt him. But then he winked at me and I wasn't sure if he was playing around or not. Either way, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him.

  Fuck, I was too damn nice, wasn't I?

  “No, no I love it! I was just going to ask if you had any spare panties for me? I lost mine somewhere along the way tonight.” I smiled back at him, and a surge of affection warmed my belly when his face picked up again.

  “Oh yeah, for fucking sure. Here,” he handed the … er … dress to me and disappeared back into the closet.

  “Better get changed then, Care Bear,” Dustin snickered, and I shot him a death glare.

  “Guess I better,” I retorted, standing and yanking my polka dot dress over my head right there in front of him. Given that I'd lost my panties somewhere in the secret passageway, and I hadn't been wearing a bra to begin with—a dangerous feat in itself, given the size of these bad girls—I was suddenly totally naked.

  “See something you like?” I challenged the asshole Irishman as his gaze raked all over my exposed lady-bits.

  “That's enough,” Warden growled, cutting off whatever smart remark Dustin had been about to reply with. “Ari-Vampari, I never thought I'd be the one saying this, but put some damn clothes on.”

  My eyes narrowed at Dustin, silently warning him that we were not done here, but I pulled the frothy fabric of George's dress over my head nonetheless.

  Billy sat up on the bed behind me, and helped do up the laces that held the corset style top together. Thankfully, there was a halter strap so my tits were marginally less likely to flop out at an inopportune moment, but the short skirt exploded out from my waist like a multicolored sunflower or something.

  It was like a floppy ballerina dress, with bits of lace and ribbon scattered all over it in a shabby chic sort of design.

  In a word, it was horrendous.

  I mean, sure, it was probably some fancy-schmancy designer or something, and it actually looked sort of cute on me when I caught my reflection in the roof mirror … but it was so girly, and about as far from kick-ass as clothes were ever made. I literally looked like I was on my way to a little girl's tea party or something. All I needed now were a pair of—

  “Here, I have shoes that match!” George popped out of the closet again with the ease of a wet dick, and held up a pair of honest to fuck ballerina slippers with ribbons and all. “Quick, get them on and we need to go. The last thing we want to do is keep Francesca waiting.” George grimaced at this idea, and even Billy looked uncomfortable.

  “He's right,” Warden said. “Put the silly shoes on and let's make like a lizard and drop our tails.”

  “What the bleeding hell are you on about man?” Dustin muttered, while I yanked on the fresh underwear and stuffed my feet into the vomit inducing powder pink slippers, tying the ribbons up my calves.

  “It's a saying.” Warden rolled his eyes and Dustin shook his head.

  “Nah, mate. It's not.” He clapped him on the shoulder with an affectionate gesture. “But that's okay. You always did dance to the beat of yer own drum.”

  Dustin's hand on Warden's shoulder paused there a moment, massaging the other man's muscle while their gazes locked with a sexual chemistry usually only reserved for … well … me.

  Fuck, this is hot. I didn't dare move a muscle for fear of interrupting the charged moment going on in front of my eyes. Would they kiss? They certainly looked like they might.

  “Come on,” Billy snapped, jumping off the bed and pushing between the two of them. “Time to go see some faeries.”

  “Erm, yes,” Dustin cleared his throat, dropping his hand from Warden's shoulder and striding out of the room.

  Guess there was more going on between those two than just a one-night stand, after all. Made me all the more excited for that show Dustin had promised me.

  Aw, fuck. Now these panties were wet too!

  The Seelie Court looked like something ripped straight from Shakespeare's brain … if old Bill Shakespeare had been tripping on acid and banging bitches in the rose garden.

  At first glance, the “court” was an outdoor amphitheater covered in beautiful creeping ivy and blooming flowers, and my silly ballerina dress seemed to fit right in.

  But at closer inspection, the faeries were not swinging merrily on vines, they were fucking—using the vines like Billy, Warden and I had used that swing at Baron's mansion and … now it made sense. Huh, kinky fucks.

  “You're late,” snapped the scowling woman with pastel pink hair, sitting atop a legit, honest to goodness, throne. “You were expected at dawn. Not five after dawn.”

  Her accent was crisp and British, like she was from the Devon region of England, which was silly because she was clearly a fucking faery.

  “Oh my god, five minutes. Take a damn chill pill, woman!”

  There was a deafening silence through the court, and I clapped a hand over my mouth.

  Shit! That was meant to be in my head!

  “Smokey, what in the fucking hell are you thinking?” Warden muttered under his breath at me and I shook my head, wide-eyed. How the fuck did I explain that I hadn't intended to say that out loud.

  Thankfully—I think—the regal woman burst out into peals of laughter, doubling over and holding her sides while the gathered faeries tittered nervously along with her.

  Abruptly, she cut off, and the rest of the court fell silent once more as she glared at me and all of a sudden, it made sense. She was insane!

  “Arizona Morgan Smoke-Copthorne-O'Hara-Aarden-Brenton-Cornwall-MacKenna,” she snapped, and my mind boggled at all the surnames she'd just hyphenated onto my name. Did I even know all of those? No way in hell was I having a seven-way hyphenated last name. Imagine trying to fill out those forms with the little boxes, you know the ones where there is one box for each letter?

  “Uh, present?” I raised my hand, not totally sure if she'd asked a question or made a statement.

  “You're here to stand trial for the damages caused to my Bae's beautiful mansion.” The elegant, beautiful woman, Francesca Rosethorn, Queen of the Seelie Court … just said Bae, like before anyone else, that shitty acronym?!

  “Um, what?” I blinked at her, not totally sure I'd heard right.

  “Sugar-boo?” She called, and from a flap of foliage behind her throne, Baron the Bloodhound emerged … in a gimp suit.

  Like … I am talking full-body PVC with a hood and gag-ball in his gob. The only reason I knew it was Baron was because a) I'd already been told he was being Dommed by the Seelie Queen, and b) he waved at me in greeting.

  Presenting himself to his … er … queen, she graciously unbuckled his gag so he could speak.

  “Oh, hello everyone,” he called out to us, waving one PVC clad hand. “It's so good to see you all again! Oh, you are a naughty, naughty elemental, aren't you?” He pursed his lips and shook his head at me like I'd just been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

  “Um, what?” I repeated, sounding like a fucking moron but in fairness, my head was spinning with the rapid changes of emotion.

  All around us, faeries in various states of dress and undress were watching with beady, unblinking eyes, like they'd been on their way to a Rocky Horror Picture Show screening and someone pressed pause on them all.

  It was … fucking creepy, to say the very least.

  The faerie queen, Francesca, sat on her throne made of … oh god, it was literally made of … dildos. An entire chair of brightly colored silicone cocks, woven together into such a complex pattern that I hadn't been sure what I was looking at at first.

  “For the damages caused to Baron's mansion, we require remuneration in the amount of three hundred thousand dollars or a fae bargain.”

  I just gaped.

  “Bleeding Christ,” Dustin snarled, moving across the grass and crushing tiny flowers under his boots as he went, “for the love of Mother Mary, you kidnapped my arse! We don't owe you shit.”
/>
  “Wow, real diplomatic guy,” Billy quipped, a charcoal gray leather jacket slung over his shoulders. He rolled his orange-brown eyes and tossed Warden a look. “Your boyfriend's going to get us killed, man. Deal with his shit.”

  “My boyfriend?” Warden asked, giving me a look. “He's your soul mate.”

  “He's Siobhan's boyfriend,” I growled, but I started forward anyway and wrapped my arms around the Irishman's bicep. His skin was warm, his muscles hard and I knew in that moment that I did not fucking want him to be Siobhan's boyfriend. I wanted him to be mine.

  Bad ovaries, bad uterus, I snapped because come on, what kind of a greedy feminine goddess was I being trying to snag all these cocks for myself? I felt like an old-word sultan with a palace in the desert, a room with gauzy curtains set aside for my ever growing harem.

  Please let this be the last one, I thought as the queen narrowed her eyes on me, their color the same periwinkle blue as the disgusting cloud free sky above (sorry, but it was early morning and I hadn't slept and I was cranky as fuck).

  “Dusty,” I warned as he turned his head and lowered his green eyes to my face. “Let's try not to piss off the supernatural badass sitting on a throne of rubber cocks, please.” I pushed forward until my breasts were smashed up against his arm. He seemed to like that, and I swear, I felt him relax a little. I seriously need to have a girls' night out with Siobhan and get her to really talk about this guy, tell me how she feels … and find out more about his addiction to succubus magic … “What's a fae's—”

  For the second time that day, an elemental soul mate clamped his hand over my mouth.

  “Shush, ya fuckin' wee bairn,” Dustin hissed, the musky sweet scent of his skin surrounding me. I hated being shushed up, but I was also supremely grateful to Shane for stopping me from committing myself to a public orgy this morning so … I guessed I'd let Dustin do me a solid by closing my admittedly big mouth. “A fae's bargain is binding, brutal, and totally fucked. Besides,” he raised his voice on this last part and dropped his hand from my face. “I wouldn't give you a bleeding cent if you were starving on the feckin' street, you faerie dust piece of goblin shite.”