A Twisted Tale from the Darkworld
The Pixie Prince
By
Lex Valentine
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Pixie Prince
Copyright© 2009 Lex Valentine
ISBN: 978-1-60088-440-5
Cover Artist: Cris Griffin
Editor: Barbara Louise
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Cobblestone Press, LLC
www.cobblestone-press.com
Dedication
For Jennifer Morgan aka Opalgirl who, for the past three years, has MoMed me with evil glee, spoiled me with autographed books from the WARDen, drunk-dialed me, stayed up late on IM with me when I was depressed, and helped me figure out pixies.
Jen, without you, there would be no Max.
Chapter One
The mattress looked deep and thick and soft. Even the top pillow part looked thick and poofy. Max LeFevre eyed it skeptically, igniting a mini firestorm in his companion.
“Oh, c’mon, Max. For the love of--” Max’s best friend, Alexa Harte, broke off on a frustrated sigh. “We’ve been looking at mattresses all day. My feet hurt. Can’t you just pick one and be done with it? Why the hell does it have to be just right?”
He arched one brow at Alexa. “Because I’m like Goldilocks,” he murmured, carefully lying on the mattress.
Alexa sat down on the next mattress over and pulled off her high heel, rubbing her tiny foot vigorously. “No, you’re the fucking Princess and the Pea,” she grumbled.
Max chuckled. “That is truer than you know.”
He wriggled around on the mattress, trying to get comfortable. Lying on his side, the mattress was great. Lying on his back was the problem. None of the mattresses he’d tried were good enough. They’d been to three stores before this one. He’d tried every mattress in each of the stores, searching for the one that would let him lie on his back.
“That is a wonderful mattress, sir!” a salesman exclaimed enthusiastically as he strode confidently toward them across the sales floor. Frowning fiercely, Alexa slammed her high heel on and stood up. She straightened her spine, bringing herself up to her full five-feet-one inches.
“You can leave. We don’t need a salesman. He’s just gonna try every mattress in this store, and if he finds one that he wants, we’ll come find you so you can have the sale.” She stared defiantly at the salesman, almost daring him to try his sales pitch on them.
Wisely backing down, the salesman threw up his hands. “Sure, lady. No need to go all pit bull on me. I’m Charlie. If he wants to buy a mattress, I’ll be over there.” He gestured vaguely to another part of the store and then took off in that direction, disappearing from view.
Max rolled onto his side, feeling much more comfortable the moment he did. He propped his head up with one hand, his long hair flowing over his shoulder and down onto the mattress. “Pit bull. Hmmm. Yyyou know, that’s a pretty good nickname for you, Alexa.” He gazed up at her, allowing the corner of his mouth to turn up in a mischievous smile.
She sat back down on the mattress and pulled off her shoe again. “You ever call me that and I’ll deck you, pretty boy,” she muttered.
Max laughed and rolled onto his back one more time. The mattress was comfy… for about three minutes. Then it dug into his back. He rolled up to a sitting position and looked over at Alexa. Her eyes widened.
“Not this one, too?” she groaned. “It’s the most expensive mattress in this store!”
Max shrugged. “If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. Doesn’t matter how much it costs. I just have to be able to lie on my back on it.”
Alexa put her shoe on. “I give up. We’ve been to the best mattress stores in town. No one has a mattress that suits you.”
Before Max could reply, a bright flash startled them both.
Alexa threw her hands up in front of her face. “Arghh!” she exclaimed with a grimace.
Max saw the gleam of her fangs for an instant before she retracted them. Being the best friend of a vampire meant he’d gotten used to her fangs dropping every time something startled her. Max knew it was just a defensive mechanism, but other people often didn’t. Luckily, the salesman hadn’t seen them or he really would have thought she was a pit bull.
Alexa peered between her fingers, obviously looking for the poor soul who had been stupid enough to try to take Max’s picture. When she spotted the girl, she stalked over to her.
Max watched the scene in silence, slowly counting to himself. Whenever he and Alexa tried to do normal stuff like shopping, someone inevitably recognized him. Within minutes, a crowd of women would be following them. Eventually, some poor woman would take out a camera or a cell phone and snap a photo of him, sending Alexa into action.
She really was as tenacious and aggressive as a pit bull, he thought, still counting in his head.
At that moment, the scared girl, who was a full head and shoulders taller than Alexa, handed over her cell phone. Twenty two seconds. Max thought maybe that was some kind of record. Usually, Alexa had to argue with the offender a little bit. He watched as his best friend deleted the photo from the phone and handed it back, scolding the girl all the while.
As Alexa came back toward him, he stood up. The crowd of women that had gathered let out a collective sigh of delight. Alexa gave him a sour look.
“Let’s go. You’ve already tried their best mattress. It’s not good enough, which means nothing here is good enough. Can we just go already?”
Max dropped his arm around her shoulder and steered her toward the door. “Sure. Let me buy you lunch for taking care of the photographer.”
“Steak at the Butcher’s Block,” she said promptly. “Aren’t you lucky I know how to deal with all these yahoos who follow celebs around?”
Max laughed out loud. “Why do you think I picked you to be my best friend?” he teased.
Alexa snorted in disgust. “You picked me? I picked you, buddy. You were nothing but an up-and-coming ass model when I met you.”
Her reference to him being an “ass model” always made him laugh. At the time he’d met Alexa, he’d just gone from being a no-name runway model to the ass that filled out underwear emblazoned with a very famous designer name. He’d been asked to be on a late night talk show because his ass would be on billboards, bus stops, and print ads around the world. Alexa had been famous at that time for fucking the rock star known as Tremain, who’d been the musical act that night.
They’d been instantly drawn to each other when they’d met backstage in the green room...just not in any sexual way. Discovering that they both had a love of old black-and-white romantic comedy movies, Max had invited Alexa to watch the Thin Man series with him that weekend at his loft. Since Alexa and Tremain were pretty much on the outs then, she’d agreed. That had been over five years ago, and she and Max had been best friends ever since.
In those five years, Alexa had dumped Tremain, and Max had gone through a couple of semi-serious relationships. Neither of them had much interest in relationships, though. Every time either got interested in someone, the person they were interested in became jealous of their friendship. Both Max and Alexa refused to give up their friendship for the sake of a relationship that was mostly sex.
Outside, Alexa put on a pair of dark, wraparound sun glasses and rushed toward the limo waiting at the curb. “Fucking sun,” sh
e muttered as she slid onto the long seat.
Max chuckled. “Quit your bitching. The worst it ever does is give you a sunburn. You’re not the undead, after all.”
The limo pulled away from the curb and Alexa pulled off the sunglasses, giving him a nasty look. “You know I hate all those goth horror novels that depict vampires as the undead. Why’d you have to bring them up when you know they annoy me?”
“Cause I like it when you get all pissy. Your eyes shoot purple sparks at me.” Max wiggled his eyebrows at her, hoping to make her laugh. He knew quite well that Alexa hated any reference to vampires being undead. Ever since some crazy woman writer had published a whole series of books depicting vampires that way, Alexa had been really touchy about the subject.
She shot him a venomous glare and then gazed out the window. “People know quite well that vampires are just another species. There are no undead, yet everyone wants to be one now because of those stupid books,” she said in a low, angry tone. “It’s trendy and popular to run around with white makeup, red lipstick, fake fangs, and two fake red holes dripping fake blood down the side of your neck.”
Alexa crossed her arms over her chest, emphasizing her big breasts. “It’s demeaning to real vampires. And it’s annoying. Instead of the daytime talk shows focusing on interracial relationships between vampires and other beings, they’re doing shows on the phenomenon of the undead. We’re a very old, venerated race, and these books have made a mockery of us.”
Max bit back a sigh. He truly felt bad for Alexa. He understood her point, but he also thought she was just a little too touchy about the subject. He figured it harked back to her relationship with Tremain, who’d been a fan of those books before they were popular.
Tremain, who was a real Acerbian vampire like Alexa, had opted to use the undead persona as his performance schtick. Angsty teens and obsessed women flocked to his shows. As his popularity grew, he began talking about the books he loved, and his fans rushed to emulate him. Suddenly, the books were just as popular as Tremain, and the whole undead trend was born. And Alexa had gotten really uptight about it.
The limo pulled up at Butcher’s Block, and Max jumped out, holding out his hand for Alexa who hid behind her sunglasses again. Inside, the hostess led them to their usual table in the corner. A waiter came toward them and set a Manhattan in front of Max and a Pear Martini in front of Alexa.
They both looked up at him. Young and handsome in a brash sort of way, his eyes twinkled at them with good humor.
Alexa smiled. “Hi, Marty! How are ya?”
“I’m still breathing and still not interested in being the undead,” he replied with a grin.
“Good. It’s always better to be a living, breathing being. Trust me on this.” Alexa’s dark head dipped in an emphatic nod.
“She’s like a broken record on that topic today. Good to see ya, Marty.” Max grinned at the waiter.
“Good to see you too, Max. How’s your ass?” Marty’s emerald eyes danced with laughter.
“Worth a couple mil according to the insurance company,” Max quipped. He waved off the menus Marty started to hand him. “Just the usual for us. No surprises. It’s been a long day of shopping.”
Marty started scribbling on a pad. “What did you buy?”
Alexa growled a little, rolling her eyes in true snark fashion. “Nothing. The Prince here couldn’t find a mattress to suit him.”
Marty looked at Max in surprise. “You were shopping for a mattress? Aren’t they all kinda the same?”
Max sighed. No one understood his dilemma. “No. They aren’t all the same. I need something softer than the usual mattress. I just can’t seem to find anything that will work.”
Marty looked thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “Lemme think about that while I turn in your order.”
The expression on Alexa’s face was priceless. Max’s lips quirked up. When Marty was out of earshot they both started laughing. “That would be the weirdest thing ever, Maxie. Our waiter solving your sleep issue.” Alexa wheezed as she tried to stop laughing.
Taking a deep breath to push the laughter down, Max shook his head and reached for his drink. “I don’t care who solves it, as long as it gets solved.”
“I just don’t get why it’s so important.” Alexa rubbed her finger down the stem of the glass.
Max wasn’t about to explain it to her in a public place so he made light of the situation. “It’s important because I never get to be on the bottom.”
Alexa choked on her drink. “Max, you’re not even seeing anyone.”
He gave her an arch look. “If I meet someone today, I don’t get to be on the bottom.”
She rolled her eyes and groaned. “You’re incorrigible,” she muttered.
Marty returned with fresh drinks for them. “You know, Max, I may have something different for you to try. I’ll make a phone call and let you know.”
They stared at Marty’s departing back then looked at each other blankly.
“Now, that’s just weird,” Max said as he reached for his new Manhattan.
Alex gazed at him thoughtfully as she fiddled with the stem of her martini glass. “This whole thing is weird. I’ve known you five years, Max. You’ve never had an issue with a mattress or sleep in all the time I’ve known you. Why now?”
Max looked around at the crowded restaurant. He couldn’t tell her here. Someone might overhear. “Let’s just say I inherited something that’s causing a problem.”
Alexa’s dark violet eyes narrowed. “Inherited?” she asked softly.
He fidgeted in his seat, which caused her to look at him even more suspiciously. “Ummm, you know that little mini-vacation I just got back from?”
She gave him a clipped nod.
“Well, I… uh, had to go home. My dad decided to retire.”
Alexa’s perfectly arched brows shot up. “Pixies retire?”
Max fidgeted some more. The whole subject made him nervous. He was afraid he’d blurt out something he shouldn’t and find it splashed across the tabloids the next day. “Well, you could call it retiring,” he said in a low voice. “I think the spirits play golf in the Afterworld.”
His best friend’s beautiful eyes widened until her whole face seemed to be all eyes. “Holy shit! Your dad died?” she whispered in shock.
He nodded, looking around the room casually, trying to see if anyone was listening in on their conversation. “Yeah. So I kinda inherited the title and … other crap,” he muttered.
Alexa started to grin. Then she began to chuckle. Finally, she muffled her laughter behind her slender fingers. “Oh, my God. You’re the Pixie Prince now!”
“Ssssh!” Max frowned at her. “I get enough attention as it is without this getting out and making it worse!”
Above her fingers, Alex’s eyes danced with delighted laughter. “Does this mean you have the big golden…?”
He nodded, grimacing. “Yesssss,” he hissed. “And worse than that, now I’ve got a sensitivity to things that never bothered me before.”
Alexa swished the pear slice in her drink, then raised the glass to her mouth to lick at the sugared rim. Max’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched all the men seated nearby stare at her with unabashed lust. It was a little cool in the room, so the front of her thin silk shirt showed the outline of her rock hard nipples. With those pebbled nipples and her agile pink tongue on display, Max knew more than one man had to adjust himself beneath the table.
Max was used to men staring at Alexa. She was a tiny thing, weighing in at about ninety-seven pounds, all big violet eyes in a piquant face and blessed with a set of lush, full breasts that turned even the coldest of men into drooling idiots. Men usually made the mistake of thinking she was a brainless bimbo because of those big breasts, when in fact she had the sharpest mind of anyone he’d ever met. She also had a razor sharp tongue that could rip a person to shreds in just a few seconds.
The combination of sex kitten looks and a mind like a Wall
Street shark usually meant that Alexa wasn’t seeing anyone. Men either didn’t approach her because they thought she was a bimbo, or they did approach her because they thought she was a bimbo. The ones that did hit on her were sent packing the instant they pulled the “Hey, baby” routine on her.
“Stuff that didn’t bother you before? Like what?” she asked, setting her glass down. “Mattresses?”
Max figured she knew the men in the room were staring at her nipples, but she pointedly–he chuckled to himself over the pun–ignored them. He shook his head. “I don’t have a sensitivity to mattresses per se,” he replied cautiously. “Don’t you remember your fairy tales?”
“Which one?” She arched a brow at him, then suddenly must have remembered their conversation in the mattress store. Her eyes widened. “Well, shit. If you’re the Prince and the Pea, how the hell are you ever gonna have sex again?”
He shrugged, resisting the urge to squirm in his seat again. “Why do you think I’m mattress hunting? Nothing is comfortable anymore. I feel everything,” he grumbled, finishing his second Manhattan. “I’m told that the sensitivity wears off. It’s just because the inheritance is new. Eventually, I’ll get used to the big golden… you know… and to feeling like everything is bigger, louder, harder, brighter.”
Alexa sat back in her chair, apparently stunned by his revelation. “So all of your senses are more acute now?”
He nodded, opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut when he heard footsteps approaching. Alexa blinked and looked around him to find Marty coming toward them with a laden tray. He placed a platter of rare filet mignon wrapped in bacon and drizzled with bleu cheese crumbles, sautéed mushrooms, and French fried onion strings in front of Alexa. Then he set a huge bowl of hot wings in front of Max.
“Suicide wings, drumettes only, right?” Marty asked with a grin.
Max nodded, his mouth and eyes watering at the vinegar and hot sauce smell of the wings.
The Pixie Prince Page 1