Cocktales

by The Cocky Collective

  “Welcome to Vanguard, Dineal,” Braxton said, shaking hands with the first shifter. He was a huge burly man, with a closely shaved head and eyes the color of rich cinnamon. Age was difficult to tell in supernaturals, but I thought he looked like someone with experience about him. Probably around eighty.

  I wasn’t overly fond of bear shifters, had too many bad experiences with their growly asses to ever trust one, but I also really shouldn’t cause any political turmoil for my guys. So, when it was my turn to be introduced, I just shook hands with Dineal and kept my mouth shut.

  “You really don’t need an introduction,” he said, holding my hand for a beat too long. “Everyone knows the dragon marked who took down the king.”

  Braxton only made one noise, barely even a scary one, and Dineal dropped my hand and backed up a few steps. I narrowed my eyes at my mate, because I sure as shit did not need him to scare off the men. I could do that all on my own.

  The others didn’t come near me after that, and I knew Jacob was laughing at me. His eyes were practically sparkling. Dicking fey. Once the introductions were over, it was time to enter the prison. There was about thirty minutes until lunchtime, so it was pretty quiet in the large communal area that all five races shared at certain periods of the day. We walked straight past the cafeteria tables and the gym, making our way to the tanks that held the mermaids and selkies.

  Mermaids were nothing like the cartoons humans watched. They were scary, with claws and fangs and dirty, sea-colored hair and skin. Their eyes bothered me, empty depths of darkness. Oh, and there was also that thing about them liking to lure people to their deaths just for shits and giggles. That bothered me the most.

  “We have three mermaids in at the moment, but the one in this tank is due for release next week,” Tyson explained, as we closed in on one of the giant glass structures. “Her tank is designed specifically for the difficult cases. She’s a head banger.”

  I took a step closer. The water was so clear that I was sure crazy mermaid had already escaped. Then, she appeared on the other side of the glass so quickly that I almost took a step back. I had no idea how they hid themselves in the water that way but if they stayed very still no one could see them. It was as if they could reflect their surroundings.

  She stared at me. Black orbs. No white at all in them. Her tail was a khaki-green, and her hair, which was almost the full length of her body as it trailed out around her, was a few shades lighter in color than her tail.

  When the mermaid smiled, her pointed teeth flashed ivory in my direction. It was not a nice smile, it was a I-enjoy-snacking-on-shifters sort of grin.

  “Are you sure this bitch should be back in the ocean?” I asked Maximus, who stood next to me. “She looks like she’s a few fish short of a full load.”

  Braxton pressed in close to my back then, and I immediately rubbed myself across him. Because why the hell not. I was nothing if not inappropriate. His hand slid across my ass and down it, so quickly I almost missed it.

  Goddamn him. I was horny . . . again.

  “She’s done her time,” Maximus said, shaking his head at me. “She gets a second chance.” He didn’t sound any happier about it than I was.

  I’d been advocating for the death penalty to be brought in. Doesn’t matter how horrific a supernatural’s crime is, if they surrender peacefully, they get to keep their miserable lives. That was fine, until criminals started escaping and killing again. Or even doing their time and getting out to hurt innocents again.

  It had to stop. Two strikes and you were dead was my new motto.

  The Canadians spent about twenty minutes examining the cage. The entire time they walked around it, testing strength and magical barriers, the mermaid followed their movements. Wherever they were, she was on the other side, and the hunger on her face was fucking disturbing.

  Finally, they seemed satisfied, and the paperwork was brought out to sign. This was just as the lunch rush started, and when we left, we found ourselves surrounded by criminals. Guards closed in to where we were standing, but Braxton just waved them away. Only a fucking moron would take on the Compasses. We were in no danger here.

  “You assholes are going to die!” A loud voice broke out across the racket of lunch noise. “I know what’s coming for you, and I can’t wait to stand over your corpses and laugh.”

  Okay, apparently we had some fucking morons in here after all.

  A vampire broke away from a group near the buffet. He kept shouting as he got closer to us, hands waving around while he drew attention. “Warren Chalms.” I heard Jacob mutter. “He’s just come out of solitary for threatening those women.”

  Oh, he was definitely a moron. Before anyone could stop me, I stalked across toward him, ready to meet him face to face. Threatening women was not okay with me.

  I heard some groans and laughter from behind, but I didn’t wait around for more. He swung at me as soon as I was within reaching distance, but I’d been fighting for most of my life, and it was second nature to simply side-step his fist. Swinging myself around, I kicked him straight in the face hard enough that I heard his teeth rattle. Warren went down, smacking his head on a table that was nearby. He got up just as fast, vampires were strong and quick, and he was going to be ready to kill me.

  Fangs out, he lunged forward and grabbed a handful of my hair while he tried to wrench my throat back to bite me. My elbow crashed into his nose, splintering it and sending blood spurting everywhere. Dammit, I hated when I got blood on my clothes. That meant I had to go shopping again to replace this top. I hated shopping as much as bloody clothes.

  Before he could recover, I ripped my hair free and kicked him hard in the gut. When he was on the ground, I dropped both of my knees into his face. My wolf surged forward and I let her strength infuse me. My next punch knocked him out cold, his ugly head lolling to the side.

  Rising slowly, I wiggled my shoulders and stretched myself out. It had been a while since I’d had a good old-fashioned fight. A few more vampire closed in on me.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Braxton’s words sounded almost lazy, but there was an immediate six feet of space around me.

  “Cocky dragon.” I grinned at him, showing all of my teeth. “I had it handled.”

  His eyes did that midnight blue thing again, followed by gold, and then all I could think about was this morning. His body over mine.

  Fuck.

  This was out of control, what sort of pheromones did dragons have? Neither of us moved, both waiting for the other to make the first move. I was all amped up from the fight and from my hormones, so that gave me an extra slice of attitude. And I was already pretty headstrong.

  I wasn’t about to break the eye contact, but I did notice Jacob shove Maximus forward. “Move her or we’ll be here all day,” he muttered.

  Maximus bared his fangs at his brother “Fuck, no. Are you kidding me?” He shot back. “No one touches Jessa babe when she’s like this.”

  I had taught them well.

  “How about a compromise?” Braxton had all of my attention. I crossed my arms and tilted my head to the side.

  “Listening . . .”

  “We meet in the middle.”

  A grin was trying to break out across my pursed lips, and I fought against it, but I couldn’t stop. “Fine, I can agree to those terms.”

  He took the first step, which I knew cost him dearly, but he did it for me. That was how I knew Braxton loved me more than anything—he could literally fight instinct for me. And I would do the same for him.

  I ran then because . . . screw meeting in the middle.

  His arms wrapped around me as I leapt at him, and my legs closed around his waist as our bodies slammed together. His lips were on mine in the same heartbeat, and then I forgot about the rest of the world.

  It was true what they said: the cockier the dragon, the harder they fall. It was the same for wolves. Guess we could just be cocky bastards together.

  I was pretty okay with that.r />
  About the Author

  Jaymin Eve is the USA Today bestseller of over 25 fantasy and romance novels. She lives in Australia with her husband, two daughters, and a couple of crazy pets.

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  A Holly Woods Files Short

  Emma Hart

  A short story featuring Noelle and Drake from the Holly Woods Files - and a missing parrot.

  Copyright © 2018 by Emma Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  One

  “Noella!” The scream of my name accompanies the sharp slam of my front door. “Noella! I need-a you!”

  Oh, God.

  Nothing good ever came of those words from Nonna.

  “What do you want?” I ask, stirring the cake mixture.

  My third attempt. After all this time, I should really know that I cannot bake, and I really should have taken my mom up on her offer of making the twins’ first birthday cake.

  At this rate, my poor babies weren’t going to have a cake.

  Not that they deserve one. I wasn’t over the poop party my darling son threw this morning.

  Nonna stills in the doorway. “Noella? Are-a you-a baking?”

  “No, Nonna. I’m stirring thin air.”

  “Your-a attitude-a stinks.”

  “So does you running into my house. How did you get a key?”

  Nonna sniffs, but otherwise declines to answer as she shuffles across to the table where I’m working. The chair screeches against the floor as she pulls it out and takes a seat. “I am-a in-a crisis. I do-a not-a need a key.”

  I don’t like the sound of that. And it doesn’t answer the question of how she got the key—something Drake and I have been fighting for the last six months.

  “All right, Nonna. I’ll bite.” I put the bowl and spoon down and wipe my hands on my apron.

  That’s right. I’m wearing an apron.

  I’m a real adult now, don’t you know?

  “What’s your crisis?” I ask her, leaning against the table.

  Her lower lip juts out, and oh, God—she’s going to cry. “It-a is-a Gio.”

  Has the little rat died?

  Is that cruel?

  Maybe a bit. Damn, but I hate that bird.

  “What did he do now? Drake already told you we won’t talk to him about stealing underwear when he’s let out of his cage.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I mean it. I did it once behind his back, but I won’t do it again.”

  “Nooooo!” She covers her face with her hands. “He is-a missing!”

  I raised an eyebrow. “He’s missing? Did you check the attic?”

  “Noella! I am-a serious! Gio is-a gone!” She waggled one wrinkled finger at me. “Start-a being serious!”

  You couldn’t pay me to be serious about that damn parrot.

  “How do you know he’s gone?” I can try to care, I suppose. “Have you checked the house? And Dad’s new shed?”

  “Si, si, si,” she wails, clutching dramatically at her chest.

  Give me strength. Someone. Anyone.

  “He is-a gone!” She continues, whipping a handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbing at her eyes.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was laying this on thick. Really, really thick.

  So, I ask the most logical question. “Well, where is he then?”

  She sobers up quicker than you can snap your fingers. “I do not-a know! If-a I knew, do-a you not-a think-a I would-a have him?”

  Makes sense.

  “How did he escape?”

  She looks around as if we’re being spied on, then leans forward, conspiratorially narrowing her eyes. “I think-a some-a-one stole him.”

  The laugh snorts out of me before I can stop it.

  “You-a laugh at-a me?”

  “No, I just—” I pause, sighing. “Nonna, the notion that someone stole Gio is, well, ridiculous.”

  She gasps, hand to her chest once more. “He is-a lovely bird! Anyone would-a be lucky to-a have-a him!”

  I respectfully disagree, but whatever.

  “Nonna, nobody stole Gio.” I cross my arms and lean against the counter. “I’m sorry. Nobody in this town is crazy enough to want that damn bird.”

  She wails. Long and high and oh, God, make it stop. I’m pretty sure she’s so high-pitched that dogs are the only ones who can hear her.

  “What the hell is that noise?” Drake demands, stepping into the kitchen with a twin on each of his hips.

  I swear. If I didn’t have to clean poo off my walls at five-thirty this morning, looking at him right now might make me want another.

  “Gio is-a missing!” Nonna exclaims.

  Drake looks at me. “What?”

  “Someone stole him,” I say wryly, taking Alessia from him.

  “They’re tired,” he says. “And I’m never taking two one-year-olds to the park on my own again. I don’t need to go to the gym this week. I already got my work-out in.”

  I chuckle and stroke Antonio’s little dark head. “I’ll put them to bed.” Then, lowering my voice, I say, “Please explain to her that nobody would steal that damn bird.”

  He rolls his eyes, but slides Antonio over onto my other hip. I carry the twins upstairs to the sound of Drake asking Nonna what she’s talking about.

  “Mama,” Antonio babbles. “Mama, bed.”

  “Mama’s putting you to bed, okay?” I kiss the side of his head and bump the door open with my hip. Their cribs are on opposite sides of the room for obvious reasons, and with the skill I’ve mastered over the last several months, put Antonio in his crib before moving an already sleeping Alessia into hers.

  I kiss and tuck them both in, leaving Antonio babbling at the stuffed turtle in his crib. That boy could talk Nonna to death and he can only say five words.

  Mama, Dada, no, juice, and poop.

  I walk into the kitchen. Nonna is nursing a cup of hot tea, and Drake is looking anywhere but at me.

  “Noella! Good-a news! Drake said you-a will-a find-a Gio!” Nonna exclaims, smiling cheerfully.

  “He said what now?” I ask, shooting daggers at him. “I assume by “you,” he
means the both of us?”

  Drake jerks his head around and opens his mouth to reply, but Nonna beats him to it.

  “Oh! That is-a good-a idea!” She claps her hands together. “I will-a watch-a the twins, and you will-a find-a Gio!”

  “But, I—” Drake starts.

  “Will gladly help me,” I finish through gritted teeth. “Won’t you, honey?”

  He forced a smile and looked at Nonna. “Of course, I’ll help.”

  Two

  “I cannot believe you,” I say, slamming the car door. “We’ll find the parrot? Are you insane? This is the best thing that’s ever happened since that parrot came into our lives.”

  Drake sighs, locking the car. “What could I do? She was crying.”

  “They were crocodile tears! Your daughter is already an expert at it!”

  “She gets that from her mother,” he mutters.

  “Heard that, asshole.”

  He laughs, pulling me toward him. “I said we’d look for him until the twins wake up, then she has to call your brothers. That’s all. It’s only an hour.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t want to find that parrot.”

  “The bonus is that you don’t have to make the twins’ cake now. Think of it like that,” he says brightly.

  I stop in the middle of the street and look at him. “You sound a little too happy about that.”

  “Well, sweetheart—”

  “Think very carefully what you’re about to say, Mr. Nash.”

  He bites the inside of his cheek. “Your first one was so burned it looked like a chocolate cake, and the second… Well, I don’t know what the fuck you did to that.”

  “I followed the recipe!”

  “For what? A mud pie?”

  “Ugh.” I fold my arms and glare at him. “Fine. I’m happy that Mom is doing the cake so I don’t have to,” I admit. “But that’s not the point. I don’t want to chase the devil bird around town.”