Shipwrecked & Horny: A What Could Possibly Go Wrong Bad Boy Romance (Bad Boys After Dark Book 10)

by Gabi Moore

  I laughed, though I was a bit uncomfortable. The sound of his voice so close to my ear brought some heat to my body. I tried to suppress the reaction, but flashes of memory came back to me nonetheless. Memories of comforts shared in cold and foreign spaces.

  Thane backed off once more.

  “We've charted out all of the astrological components of the time window. We have the research already compiled. The best minds have decided that now is the time. All we need is a field agent. Someone with your unique skill sets..."

  "I'll do it Thane, you can stop now."

  "If you don't want to, we can find someone else. I'm sur--"

  "I told you..."

  "Look, I just don't want this to be something that you're heart's not really into."

  I slapped him.

  I had to.

  Chapter 3

  Thane was one of the most irritating man I have ever known. He was also one of the most charming. If I had wanted to hurt him, I wouldn't have used the palm of my hand. However, I had to at least send a message that I wasn't going to put up with any more of his patronizing bullshit. Charmers have to be put in line every now and then.

  He rubbed a smiling cheek with one hand, and flicked an envelope onto my lap with the other.

  "So glad to have you on board. This government needs someone with a bit of fire in them to do the work that needs to be done.”

  He walked confidently over the back of his desk, and took a seat. Both boots were immediately hefted onto the polished obsidian surface. Everything in this world was ornate and well presented. So much magic was used to make everything appear well ordered and maintained. I knew that there was another reason I wanted to go to the Material Plane, but for the moment, I shoved that impulse down into the bottom of my mind once more.

  I didn't feel like dignifying Thane with a response, so I simply turned my heel and left.

  “Why don’t you take a walk in the courtyard, and clear your mind?” he called out after me, laughing to himself once more.

  Fucking Thane.

  * * *

  Watching the sea of interns go about their business for the day was nauseating to say the least.

  I didn't hold any malice for any one of these people in particular. There was something wholesale unattractive about the whole charade. Everyone was so busy, and I couldn't understand what they all thought they were accomplishing.

  A couple even bumped into me as they passed, talking amongst themselves about some abstract and legalistic policy. Immediately, I had to deal with profuse apologies, and red blushed cheeks from both of the interns. There were portraits of both myself, Thane, and a handful of others in the hallways. I didn't look like much these days, but not too many Fae suffered the same sort of physical disabilities.

  I waved them along.

  They were problem solving, to be sure, but compared to the problems that we had faced in order to get here, it seemed trivial. A whole flood of busy work came in to replace the former tyrannical government, simply because they couldn't stand to have a little bit of nothingness.

  You could leave, I reminded myself, not even bothering to speak within the privacy of my own mind. You could probably get access to this portal and just fuck around on the material plane for the remainder of your life. Seduce a fisherman, and start a half-breed family.

  The thoughts themselves were entertaining, particularly because I remembered the possibilities held by assuming a different form on the material plane.

  In transferring over to the material plane, a fae automatically assumed a form reflective of the natives. Of course, the previous echoes of my life would be on the new body, but a birthmark is a lot more manageable than a permanent disability.

  None of the humans have wings. They wouldn't gawk at you any more.

  The thought only kicked around in my head for a minute or two before I shoved it aside. I was familiar enough with both pain, and vanity. The final reason to push all of that out of my mind was because I remembered the true gravity of the situation we were in as a people.

  Environmental collapse was no longer a theoretical topic of discussion; it was not so much a matter of if, but when. Not to mention there has also been an increase in cases of mental health trauma throughout the Capitol. More and more, Fae were succumbing to suicide and social alienation. I didn't blame them myself, though I found it difficult to make a distinction between PTSD and the greater psychological malaise of our race.

  Thane's evaluation of the Void was not a matter to be taken lightly.

  I shook my head and shoved the note back between my right ass cheek and my pants. The note fit snugly against my body as I walked away from the structures of the Consulate and toward the gardens which littered the grounds around the central building.

  I let my eyes relax slightly, and tried to take in whatever beauty I could from this environment. The entire landscape was designed to engender psychological serenity, even if some of us didn't occupy that state of mind any longer.

  The Fae consulate is a seductive place if you've never been. Just after the war, the image projected by the consulate was something holy and set apart for regeneration. The marble statues and magnificent gardens were signals of what could be, if we only worked to restore beauty. They are beautiful, but they are tirelessly maintained so that hardly a leaf is out of place.

  As it turns out, the consulate gardens are just another indication of the subtle classism that has taken root within Fae society.

  The gardens were tended to by gnolls, and the cleaning was managed by pixies. Supposedly, we had all once lived in an idyllic forest wonderland, but I couldn't even imagine that type of existence any longer. Supposedly, somewhere out on the fringes, there were Wild Fae; those faeries had all run away in an effort to retain both their culture and autonomy.

  The Wild Fae had been tangential, yet crucial in our fight against Xan. More support was offered by them for our benefit than any other population in the realms. However, they only operated at a distance. The Wilder Ones appeared to be ultimately concerned with their own preservation, and only came into action when Xan's forces threatened to run them out of their deep forest retreat.

  Following the revolution, we had a choice to join the Wilder Ones, and some did. The rest of us clung to the process of creating a civilized utopia. The promise of security and an improved quality of life were too enticing. It was a devil's bargain, but most of us were so caught up in the machinery of social engineering, that we didn't have attention to notice, or time to complain.

  I wasn't completely jaded, but I did fail to see the beauty of the consulate most days of the week. When my mind is pre-occupied with the latest dramatic political episode, it is hard to see the beauty of the trees. It's hard to even appreciate the power and simplicity of a single moment.

  Breathing more deeply now, I set my sights not on the nearest areas of the garden, but along the edges. Out there, along the periphery, there was still a bit of freedom to be had. The workers were ordered to maintain appearances as close to the common grounds as possible, but due to the construction of the gardens, the fringes were less accessible, and less critical for purposes of presentation.

  My feet passed through the threshold of the garden's main entrance, and I looked around me. I had walked into a vast courtyard. Along the edges of the courtyard were openings which branched outward into increasingly private directions. Wind came at my face, and gently lifted my hair from my cheek.

  The garden's labyrinth was a walking meditation place which accommodated officials with a higher level of security clearance, as well as the general public. As one moved further into the garden, the hedgerows themselves adapted their position to accommodate each person who walked between them. As you continue to press further into the garden, it becomes still more complex and secluded. Of course, when you want to leave, all you have to do is turn around with the intention of finding the exit. Malice was completely absent from the garden's design.

  Today, my goal would
be to go as deep as possible. I needed to find a gateway.

  Thane entertained me; at least I had to laugh in order to deal with his bullshit. Our former resistance group was built out of the rejected idealism of the previous reich. Passing through the papered rose beds and small groups of office workers, I couldn't help but think about how far we had come, and what all of this used to be.

  Before the revolution, this entire place was a practical necropolis. These very roses were undoubtedly fertilized by the blood of fallen heroes -- likely not all of them on our 'side'. Whenever I walked through here, I felt more like a living statue then an actual person. I figured out a long time ago that the stares are what really push that envelope for me.

  Thane and I were close, and our bond was primarily militaristic, but I wasn't around a lot of the time, which meant that our relationship was more polyamorous than not. As a woman, and an intelligence operative, I got close with a number of people during the course of my work. Targets, clients, associates; whatever was called for to accomplish our mission.

  They called me a Fixer.

  Our job was to obtain information and connect people with either information, people or objects. Fixers are liminal creatures who host a unique range of skills. We are resourceful, and always manage to find our way in and out of situations. Sometimes things got intense, but luck was on my side more often than not.

  Now that we had overthrown the previous regime, we were supposedly moving on into a new world where we didn't use the same military efforts. We won a victory of some kind, but the same mechanics as before seem to be in operation, if under a different paradigm.

  I thought about my current task, and let my hand stray back to feel the note pressed up against my body. I had been on missions like this before in the past. You don't read the note until the exact moment before the portal, and even then, you only get one shot.

  Everything cloak and dagger - makes me think we are just as bad as they were.

  Laughter in the distance caused me to snap out of my reverie long enough to take note of my surroundings.

  The corridors had gotten narrower, though there was still enough room between walls of vegetation to accommodate the group approaching from around the corner. They are on their way out, and I have yet to reach the area of the labyrinth where incidental contact ceases to be a possibility.

  They are young, and smiling.

  When I look at the younger generation, I realize that there is no way that they will ever be aware of the troubles that we faced in order to get here. Regardless of that reality, I try not to judge them too poorly for it. More likely than not, they will have their own troubles. In fact, I think the people who should be judged most severely are those who brought people like myself up onto a pedestal.

  The laughter stopped as soon as they notice me.

  I walked forward, with my face resolute; knowing that they were staring and doing everything possible to regain what 'composure' they felt was necessary in my presence. They retracted their wings to their sides, and bowed stiffly as I passed. I fought the urge to say something resentful to them. I wanted to tell them to knock it off, and start taking themselves more seriously.

  I settled for a simple aphorism.

  "I am nothing more than a role which you will one day need to fulfill."

  My words will not be heard.

  They will be memorialized in the minds of the younger generation. They may even be engraved on a placard and posted on the hallways of the Consulate, but that doesn't mean that they will be adhered.

  The most incredible thing about raising a person up to the position of a deity, is that it gives you the ability to discount and ignore them.

  "She's a hero. I couldn't possibly do that."

  "Back in the day, life was more difficult, and people had to take themselves more seriously. These days, we live in a more progressive world."

  All lies.

  Nothing more than excuses to not examine the world around you with any degree of critical thought. All of these bitter reflections juxtaposed with the fragrance of jasmine.

  "Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe this is the vacation I've been asking for all this time. Besides, if this actually is a way to help -- however unorthodox, this might be the right path."

  The hedges began to narrow on either side of my body. The aisle got so close that the sides of my shoulders brushed up against either wall of vegetation.

  Any minute now...

  Then a voice called out from behind me.

  "Mistress Aria! Mistress!"

  That nasally high-pitched whine and formal title was all I needed to be completely sure that I had no interest in engaging with this person. I quickened my pace, but they were rushing toward me, and I couldn't blatantly run away from a Head of State.

  "You're pretty deep in the labyrinth..."

  "I needed to clear my mind."

  "Hmm... well, a little bird told me that they saw you go into Thane's office this morning first thing."

  "Tell that cocksucker to mind his own business."

  "My dear!"

  "Look, I'm sorry, Bartholomew, but I've been having some lousy dreams lately, and Thane's really the only one who can relate."

  "Well, most certainly, but I have been recommending you stay at our Archetypal Therapy Psychological Wing for months, ever since Mary-Anne--"

  "Cocksucker."

  "Ahem."

  I could feel his eyes narrowing in my direction, though I tried to maintain a straight face, and a steady pace.

  "… Ever since Mary-Anne issued you your first resignation request."

  "Well, she does have a big mouth."

  If possible, his eyes narrowed even more at me. I knew I had to ditch him, but I wasn't exactly sure how.

  "You're aware the confidential information is not to be shared amongst non-active operatives such as yourself."

  I turned on him.

  He was easily a full foot and a half shorter than me, which placed his head at right about the same level as my tits. He almost ran into me, and his nose came within a hair's length from my body. I watched with pleasure while his cheeks flushed red. He backed up and looked at me, attempting to regain whatever pomp and authority he had approached me with only moments ago.

  "That's right. Ex-Operative. Which means I don't need to be hassled any longer by book wielding, political suck-offs like yourself. Mind your own fucking business, and let me mind mine."

  I walked closer to him, making sure my breasts got right up in his face, causing him to backpedal.

  "I came here so I could be alone, and collect my thoughts, and you're fucking with my process. So the next time you want to do a little investigatory work, get a warrant."

  At the last word, the garden finally brought up an aerial root, and tripped Bart down onto the ground. Without wasting a moment, I turned around and walked quickly back into the maze, allowing the passageway to close in on itself in my wake.

  I could hear him yell, but he couldn't see me, and thanks to the magic of the labyrinth, he would never find me unless I walked out.

  You can wait there all day, my friend...

  Another twenty feet, and I had arrived.

  The gate was little more than a fountain, covered in moss and lime deposits. The fountain clearly hadn't been in operation for some time. To my satisfaction, the area around the edges of my little clearing was covered by a dense thicket.

  Reaching behind me, I snagged the envelope out of my pants, and opened it up. Inside was a sheet of paper, and a holograph from the Intel Department. I took the image out first, and allowed it to unfold in front of me.

  A figure of a man sprang out from the slip of paper and rotated around me in the air.

  I narrowed my gaze, and strained to pick up the details of the image. Stretching the holograph out in front of me, I was able to get a good glimpse at the man's physique. I could also read the DNA Readout and Sociological Inquiry that was inscribed on the lower right hand corner of the holograph.
>
  “You've got a great body for a human, but this psyche profile is ridiculous. Believes in both Faeries, and Aliens...”

  Well, he'll get proof enough on the first, but ... humans are so gullible.

  No sooner had I finished committing the details of his face to memory, when the holograph incinerated before my eyes.

  "Fuck!"

  I backed off, cursing Thane for nearly taking my eyebrows off. The rest of the briefing was straight forward enough. The human's name was Erol, and he was apparently swimming in a quagmire of esoterica. The basic parameters of the mission were easy enough to manage.

  First and foremost, make contact with the subject. Second, undermine and redirect research to achieve personal aims. And lastly, save the Fae Realms.

  Not too difficult.

  I let out a long exhale, and rolled my eyes while the contents of the note began to glow and catch fire as well. Shaking my head, I dropped the paper to the ground and watched while it too ignited. This time, the fire didn’t stop at the end of the paper. With amusement and absent-minded fascination, I watched as the fire transformed into a blue light. The flare expanded and became a perfect oval, placed just over the base of the fountain.

  I took another breath to sturdy myself, and then stepped into the portal.

  Chapter 4

  I tripped over something in transit, and landed face first in the mud. It was an unceremonious drop which brought a curse to my lips, but that curse was never uttered.

  I extended my arms to examine the ground, and I discovered that my skin had changed both color and texture. My hands and arms were scaled and red. My skin looked like the basin of a desert. Thin black lines working their way through deep amber scales.

  I reached out one hand to touch the other, and I found that I also had nails that extended out from my fingertips like claws. The nails were black, and shone like perfect obsidian. In the reflection of my own nails, I could see horns had emerged from either side of my head. In shock, I looked down at a placid and undisturbed section of ground beneath my feet. The area of the muck that had not been disturbed by my fall offered me a perfect reflection along the surface of the ground.