by CY Jones
“What if I don’t even have the ability at all? You said it’s super rare. Could it be possible that it just skipped over me?” I question perhaps a little too eager.
I don’t know how I feel about being able to suck the soul out of someone. What if I accidentally turned someone into Casper the ghost because I was mad at them? That would suck.
“I know you have the ability, because reapers are in charge of carrying souls to the afterlife,” Silas explains, shocking me.
“So let me get this straight. Not only can I suck the soul out of someone like a vampire does blood, I can carry said soul to the afterlife as well,” I retort.
“That’s an oversimplified version of it. I do know that reapers can only carry souls if they have died themselves; at least that’s my understanding. There aren’t really many left to ask,” Silas says shrugging.
“This shite is so crazy. Either I have crazy rare powers, or I’m crazy rare myself. Why can’t I just be a normal supernatural?” I huff.
“Remy, I may not know you well, but what I do know is that you were never born to be just normal,” he says, kissing me softly. The kiss grows more heated, and soon he’s taking me on the couch hard and fast, just the way I like. Having a lot of mates sure is a good thing for my libido. It’s like I can’t get enough of them.
Twenty-Eight
This is just a illusion covering up the true beauty within
Later, Silas leaves to keep up pretending he’s looking for me, and I shower and change into clothes that are less damp.
“Did you have fun rearranging the beach, vixen?” Cody teases, winking at me from the living room sectional.
“It was interesting,” I say vaguely, giving him a small smile.
“What do you mean by interesting?” Rowen questions as he enters the room with Oreo close on his heels. Those two have been inseparable since Oreo got here. My twin is definitely still keeping secrets from me. It’s not like I care he’s into guys. Oreo is hot as fuck, so I don’t blame him for crushing on him.
“Apparently my elemental powers wants to be as finickey as I am, “ I explain.
“Did you at least learn to execute them at will?” Row questions, raising his brow.
“Would you like for me to use you as an example so we can find out, brother?” I challenge. “I’m particularly good at fire,” I add as I take pleasure in taunting him.
“No thanks,” Row quickly replies, holding his hands up in surrender, while Cody snickers behind his back.
“You walked right into that mate,” Cody teases my brother still laughing his ass off.
“Ok, Pretty,” Oreo says, clapping his hands together. “You and me, parlor room. Now,” Oreo demands.
“What the fuck for?” I question, stubbornly crossing my arms over my chest.
“It’s my turn to teach you a thing or two if you plan to succeed in seducing a man like Gabriel Esposito,” Oreo answers.
“Who the fuck is that?” I ask, not bothering to be polite. I hope etiquette lessons aren’t on the list today, because if so, I’ve definitely failed.
“He’s the head of the Esposito mob, as well as a successful arms dealer here on the West coast. He’s invited to O’Donnell’s party as a person of interest. I’m guessing O’Donnell wants in on his arms connection,” Row explains.
“He’s also has a weakness for dumb, blue-eyed blondes, and he will be at one of my clubs here tonight.” With that last bit of info, the pieces start to click together, and I easily guess what they expect from me.
“You want me to seduce him in hopes of getting an invite,” I say.
“Exactly. Now come on, pretty. We do not have time to waste,” Oreo says shooing me towards the door. I follow with a frown on my face. Stupid, pushy incubus and his stupid seduction lessons, why can’t today be a free day?
After three long hours of pure torture, Oreo throws his hands up in the air in defeat.
“You, my dear, are beautiful, but couldn’t seduce a fly to shit, even if your life depended on it.”
“A little harsh,” I say offended. It’s not like I’m not trying. This shite is all new to me. Usually I don’t want anyone touching me, so here I am trying my best not to flinch every time Oreo places his hands on my body.
“Look. I know your deal. Believe it or not your brother is much the same way, but you need to let that shit go. Go to some happy place within yourself, and don’t concentrate so much on the thought of someone touching your body. This isn’t like before. You're in control,” he tells me, giving me a sympathetic look.
I’m gobsmacked after his little speech, and start to wonder exactly how close he is to my brother for Row to tell him so much about his past. We’re both private people, but Row takes it to a whole new level.
Taking a different direction, Oreo asks, “Do you remember when we first met?”
“Yeah,” I answer warily, wondering what he’s getting at.
“You didn't flinch the whole time I was near you. You were like clay in my hands that I wanted to mold into perfection. You were absolutely delicious, and most of all in control. I need that girl tonight, not the rigid one in front of me,” he explains.
“You were using your freaky incubus voodoo powers. I couldn’t help it,” I answer. When I think back to how I rubbed against his body like a cat in heat, I blush embarrassment heating my cheeks.
“And yet, you still held a dagger to my dick. Stop making excuses Pretty, and do what you need to do. Your body is just as powerful of a weapon as a gun. Once you can wield both, you will truly be a force to be reckoned with.”
After our little heart to heart things went along smoothly. I was easily able to follow Oreo’s lead, and not flinch every time he touched me. I’m even able to purse my lips in what Oreo calls a seductive manner and not look like an over eager duck sucking on a sour ball that was more suited to be on that show Botched.
“Well done, Pretty,” Oreo says, appraising me with shrewd eyes as I slowly run my palms up his chest and circle my arms around his neck. Staring deep into his eyes, I tilt my head and literally whisper “sweet nothings,” in his ear. Laughing, Oreo pulls out of my embrace.
“I think you’re ready,” he declares giving me a proud smile. “There's an outfit on your bed waiting for you. Why don’t you go on and get ready,” he says, waving me away.
Spontaneously, I kiss him on the cheek, and head off towards my room. I blame my giddiness on the satisfaction of a successful day, and just maybe because the incubus is growing on me. That is until I see the outfit he left out for me.
After showering and changing into the atrocity Oreo had the nerve to call an outfit, I trudge downstairs to the living room where all the guys are gathered. I glare daggers at Oreo once I spot him sitting in one of the chairs with my brother not far from his side.
“I’m not wearing this,” I spit out, grabbing everyone's attention.
The looks the guys give me shows a wide range of emotions, from anger on my father's faces, to lust on my men, and embarrassment from my brother.
“On the contrary, Pretty. You are in fact wearing it, and quite well I might add,” Oreo answers smugly, eyeing my body up and down.
I continue to glare, and Oreo lets out a heavy sigh.
“Pretty, you are performing tonight, and you will more than grab our target’s attention in this outfit. All the women there will be showing just as much skin as you are, trust me,” he states.
“Really?” I drawl, waving a hand up and down my body. Oreo’s definition of an attention getting outfit is a white half corset of crushed pearls and crystals, a short pink sparkling tulle skirt, sheer white thigh high stockings with delicate lace designs, and matching lace panties and garterbelt. I looked like some fantasy high end hooker.
I’m so pissed about the outfit, I almost miss the performance comment from Oreo, when Hunter breaks my glaring contest with Oreo by shouting, “What performance?”
“Do any of you wolves listen?” Oreo huffs. “It wil
l be suspicious of me to only present Pretty here, so I added her to tonight's entertainment. You did say your sister can sing, right?” Oreo says, turning to my brother.
“What the hell?” I shout. “Not only do you have me dressed like some prized barbie, but I have to perform like some monkey too? The last time I checked, I did not join the circus.” I swear I’m seconds from laying my brother and his boyfriend out.
“Calm down, Remy. We need you,” my brother pleads, and my anger quickly deflates. Seeing that I’m no longer going to fight them my brother lets out a relieved sigh.
“Well Prince, you’re up,” Oreo says, turning to Cody once my little tiff is over with.
Grinning, Cody jumps up from the arm of the couch and circles my body. The heated look he gives me with each pass almost lights my new lace knickers on fire, and since my magic is so tuned into my emotions, that was very well a possibility. Finally, he steps back in front of me and a look of complete concentration comes over his face. Seconds later, I feel a rush of warmth tingling my body from head to toe. Cody’s magic feels like nothing I’ve ever encountered before. My own magic leaps for joy in response, and wants to play with his like old mates.
Once the warmth fades and I feel Cody’s magic pull back, I walk over to the full length gilded mirror on the far side of the room. Taking in my reflection, I did not recognize the girl staring back at me. This girl has blonde hair, styled in soft spiral curls falling past her shoulders, bright blue eyes the same color of the ocean at high noon, her bone structure is not as sharp as mine, and her cheeks are rounder. My lips no longer look bee stung, and they’re a softer shade of pink. My chest is smaller, and I believe Cody made me a couple inches shorter as well.
Through it all, I wonder if this is the type of girl Cody is attracted to. She’s angelic, and breathtakingly beautiful.
“I know what you’re thinking, and it's not true. This is just an illusion covering up the true beauty within,” he whispers in my ear.
Nodding, I turn back to everyone else. This time I can decipher the looks surrounding me. Hunter looks more thoughtful, my brother amazed, and my dads appear less angry this time, probably thinking it’s easier to pretend It’s someone else in this skimpy outfit.
“Did you have to make her tits smaller?” Oreo says, frowning. A growl fills the room and Caleb stares daggers in Oreo’s direction.
“That is my daughter you’re talking about,” he growls viciously. If looks could kill, Oreo would be road kill right now. Good thing Caleb doesn’t have any elemental powers.
“I made them smaller, so that Remy would be more of an elegant beauty,” Cody explains, breaking the tension in the room. “Gabriel's type may be a ditzy blonde, but he’ll want O’Donnell to take him seriously. He’ll want to have someone on his arm who looks the part, not someone more suited for the strip club.”
Cody has a point, and I’m glad I won’t have to go around pretending to be as dumb as Jessica Simpson. That would suck. As it was, I already feel my IQ dropping ten points in this outfit.
“Is there anything else I need to know before we leave?” I ask. I don’t want any more surprises, like with the performance bomb.
“Nothing important, except that Gabriel is a lesser vamp,” Oreo replies, waving his hand in a dramatic flare that I’m starting to get used to. I swear sometimes that man is just asking to be choked. He’s lucky he’s so pretty, and my brother seems to be fond of him.
Remembering back to when we visited DelaCorte, I know that a lesser vamp is a made vampire, and not a born one with God like powers.
“O’Donnell wants to do business with a supernatural?” I question. “Since when? If he wasn’t stealing them off the street, and forcing them into servitude with lies, he was killing them off, and taking over their territory?” I say.
“Usually that’s how he does business, but Gabriel’s the head of the Italian mob here. His territory is to big for O’Donnell to just take over without suffering any major casualties of his own. It’s easier for him to just work with him,” Oreo explains.
“That makes sense, I guess. He can’t just keep going around committing genocide just because he’s prejudice,” I mumble.
“Won’t he be able to tell what she is?” Conner asks, concern filling his voice.
That’s a valid question. I don’t know how this supernatural thing works, but so far, the ones I’ve run into have known exactly what I am.
“No, and if you didn’t already know what she was you wouldn’t either,” Oreo tells him, pursing his plump lips. It really should be illegal for a man to be so damn pretty.
“Explain,” Caleb says, not convinced. His arms cross over his chest with his ever present frown firmly in place.
“Use those wolf senses of yours and smell her,” Oreo states vaguely, as he flicks invisible lint off his expensive Tom Ford suit.
Walking up to me, Caleb and Conner gives me a long whiff. It would be considered weird if I wasn’t already growing use to the crazy that’s been happening in my life lately.
“I can’t smell her wolf,” Caleb says, shocked.
“I can’t smell anything, almost like a -” Conner cuts off and gasp. “That’s impossible.”
“What now?” I question. At this point I’m getting sick and tired of being the weird supernatural. Is it too much to ask for a tiny bit of normalcy?
“You smell like an angel, Pretty,” Oreo answers.
“An angel. Holy shite, they’re real?” I ask dumbfounded.
Giving me a ‘what do you think look, Oreo sighs heavily. Shite, it’s not my fault I don’t know about everything supernatural. If anything, it’s their fault for not telling me. Maybe we can all go out to the bookstore, and buy a Supernaturals For Dummies guide.
“Angels are very much real, as much as you and I are. Between all your different mates, you’ve got too much going on in your system. It makes it harder to pinpoint what you are. The same thing goes with angels. They smell the same as you, even though they’re only one species, but with a wide range of magical abilities. They are also extremely rare, like damn near wiped off the earth rare. Just like your reaper friend it’s unheard of to run into one, which is why Gabriel won’t be able to help himself when he sees you. He likes to collect rare things.”
Shivering, I look at Oreo like he’s lost his mind. “What the fuck? I’m not a trinket,” I say, folding my arms defensively across my chest.
“No one said you were, Pretty. You just need to do whatever you can to secure that invite, and let us handle the rest,” Oreo huffs.
I clench my teeth and hold back my retort. These arses act like I’m an immature twit. Most of the time, I think that they forget just who exactly I am. I’m no Disney princess and I don’t need saving. “Fine. Let’s get this show on the road,” I say, ready to be done with all this.
Oreo hands me a pair of red bottom six inch stilettos with pearls and crushed crystals like my corset, and I give the shoes a nasty glare before snatching them from his hands. By the end of tonight my feet will be on fire from these expensive unpractical shoes. Why women put these torture devices on their feet, I will never know.
“Come on, siren, before you try to stab Oreo with the heel of your shoe,” Hunter says, helping me up.
He is so right. I was totally just thinking that. Drawing the stupid incubus’ blood would make me very happy right now. Since this outfit is so revealing, the only weapon I have is my recently learned magical abilities, and if I’m forced to be resourceful, my heels. Let’s just hope nothing goes down that I’ll have to use them.
We decide it’s safer for my dads to stay here. We can’t risk them being seen with us and blow my cover. Most of the world may not know what they look like, but O’Donnell and his people damn sure do. For that very reason Oreo is the one to drive me in his expensive dark green Bugatti Chiron, while Cody, Hunter, and my brother take my dad’s SUV. Cody had also glamoured my brother so that he and Hunter look alike and appear to be brothers. They will be
at the club only, close enough to keep watch, and that’s it. For the time being we have to pretend like we don’t know each other.
Twenty-Nine
None of us here came from happy situations
The drive is long which I’m grateful for. I have time to mentally prepare myself so that I can become the role I’m playing. As soon as we enter Oreo’s flashy car he hands me a picture of my mark. Gabriel Esposito is a good looking man. Really good looking, but I’m already starting to think there is no such thing as an ugly supernatural. Oreo explained earlier that lesser vamps are extremely picky in who they make into vampires, and they only choose people who are either very beautiful or beneficial to them.
Gabriel is the spitting image of Jon Snow from Game of Thrones, and I suddenly have a serious girl crush going on. He has smooth, olive-toned skin, and lush, curly dark hair, beautiful hazel green eyes framed by long, thick dark lashes. Just like Oreo, he is lean with more of a swimmer’s build, but you could tell the man worked out and had a nice set of muscles under his thousand dollar suit.
When we pull up to the club Oreo throws his keys at the waiting valet, and hurries around to the passenger side of the car to let me out like a proper gentleman. Grinding my teeth, I allow him to pull me out and step into the role of ditzy arm candy. Sliding my hand in the crook of his arm, I Oreo leads me through the club. Unlike Oreo’s other club, this one was a whole lot smaller, and feels more intimate. It doesn’t have a bunch of crazy on display like the other club does either. The club is only one level with a black and white checkered dance floor in the middle, and red and black leather couches strategically placed along the walls. Round white tables are scattered throughout, and a long white, fully stocked bar sits on the far end.
Making our rounds, we’re stopped by many who want to schmooze with Oreo, mostly sucking up to the incubus, and those who are curious about the beautiful woman on his arm. I try my best to avoid the lusty gazes of the men , and play the submissive role. We aren’t here long when my mark steps out the shadows from one of the leather couches, and makes his way over to us.