To Date A Disaster (Southern Sanctuary - book 6)

by Jane Cousins

  Hmmm, Cara came back to consciousness a while later. She’d been going to do something… say something, but what? She arched as she realised why she had woken, Erik’s hand was clamped between her legs and his fingers were distractingly busy… very, very distracting. She gasped his name out, low and breathy, he chuckled, a sexy, taunting sound that turned her on almost as much as his dextrous fingers. Spreading her legs slightly further apart, she moaned as he dipped his head to nibble on her earlobe and breathe into her ear.

  “My wanton Angel.”

  That seemed to set the tone for the rest of the night, every time Cara stirred to consciousness she found Erik already awake, teasing a new part of her body. Branding her with his touch. Claiming her with his mouth. It was exhausting in the best possible way.

  Yet each time, just for a split second before she succumbed to his wicked ways she had a brief flickering thought that she was forgetting something, but whatever it was, it was quickly forgotten under the ruthless, relentless campaign Erik wagered to entice and excite her.

  Eventually she came back to full consciousness to find the bright sun - high in the sky - shining directly into her eyes. The candles had long since guttered. She felt tired, sticky and a little sore in a number of unusual places.

  Cara had forgotten there was generally a price to be paid for having fun.

  Fun! That’s what she’d been trying to remember. It was all just fun, her time with Erik. Short, brief, means nothing, temporary fun. So don’t go getting attached Cara, or having expectations.

  Merda, what was she thinking, expectations? Her and Erik together, long term? The librarian and the very hot, very sexy artist, who was - after the night they’d spent together – the very definition of being a very, very handy man.

  Erik had talked about surrendering to her, to the attraction he felt for her, but he’d meant it to be a temporary thing, right? He hadn’t mentioned anything long term… or even short term for that matter. Seriously, who said let’s have fun and meant it to be anything more than a night? No one, that’s who.

  Okay, jerks might string you along for a while just for the sex, but Erik wasn’t an ass, no matter how much he pretended to be one in the past. All throughout the night he’d been passionate, relentless, funny and kind of sweet. Damn, just when she really needed him to be a jerk he’d turned the tables on her… the jerk.

  Because after their night together she was pretty sure she was more than just attracted to Erik Valhalla, she thought she might be… kind of… sort of… falling in l.. like with him.

  And that just wasn’t going to end well for her, was it?

  And her timing couldn’t be worse. She couldn’t afford to be side tracked by her emotions at the moment, not until Maat’s warriors tracked down those evil assholes who’d killed her mother. And found Apep’s sarcophagus with the husk in it that was acting as a battery for Sek and Mot… oh, and let’s not forget that somewhere out in the big wide world was an object imbued with Apep’s Chi.

  Damn, that was a surprising number of barriers to her leaving Haven Bay… leaving Erik.

  No way could she just up and walk away until all the problems concerning her long lost relatives were resolved. Hold on, was she making up excuses to stay… to stay so she could be near Erik because she l… liked him?

  Okay, like was kind of a poor excuse for the emotions she felt when it came to Erik. Low in her body she felt the small knot of hot chaos form, pulsing gently, oh no, she did not want to be in l… like with Erik.

  Her thoughts were starting to churn, she mustn’t confuse hot… convenient sex… fun, between two consenting adults with anything more serious. Erik was an artist, they were notorious for falling in and out of bed with their muses. And that’s all this was, temporary… fun.

  God, why did that stupid word keep coming back around to taunt her? Fun, casual, means nothing… absolutely nothing, no emotions, no promises, no commitments… no future.

  “What’s wrong?” Erik turned his head slightly to nuzzle the soft velvety patch of skin just below Cara’s ear.

  “Nothing.” Cara assured. She glanced downwards as he squeezed lightly the breast he was currently cupping.

  “Hmmm.” Erik snuggled in closer, though that seemed impossible considering he was spooning her. “That’s funny, because your breasts are telling me different.” He bought his free hand up to cup her other breast. Promptly giving both a decidedly proprietary squeeze.

  “Excuse me… you think my breasts are talking to you?”

  “A-huh, they have been pretty much from the moment we first met.”

  “Right.” Cara laughed softly, shaking her head slightly.

  “Didn’t you know…?” He was speaking directly into her ear in a husky soft tone that sent shivers down her spine and awakened things low in her body. “I’m the breast whisperer. And yours are telling me that you’re worried about something… us. They’re telling me you’re worrying about us.”

  “Breast whisperer, right.” Cara rolled her eyes, though she knew Erik couldn’t see her do so. “I’m not worried.” She took a deep breath and tried to relax, a difficult proposition with a large naked man curled around you, cupping… and supposedly conversing with your breasts.

  “Tense then?”

  “Nope.”

  “Anxious?”

  “Not even a little.” She replied blithely.

  “So you’re not lying here thinking we made a mistake?”

  “No, no mistake. Fun was had by all.” She was determined to keep it cool, play it casual. It helped that the room was slightly blurry and out of focus, mirroring how completely out of focus her life felt right at this moment.

  “That’s good.” He breathed the heated words directly into her ear. “So you’ve completely an unequivocally ceased fighting the fact that you’re attracted to me?”

  She didn’t know where he was going with this, but what else could she say. “Didn’t I prove that last night? You’ve just spent the last ten or so hours in bed with me and you haven’t received so much as a paper cut.”

  Erik flexed, drawing her in tighter for a hug. “Good, then there won’t be a problem with you moving in with me then, will there?”

  One point two seconds later the bed collapsed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cara was fuming as she glared down at the perfectly innocent plate of toast in front of her.

  Half an hour after the bed collapsed beneath them, Erik still seemed to find the whole incident vastly amusing. The corners of his mouth quirking up as he sipped coffee, his back leaning against the kitchen counter, dressed in borrowed jeans and a silky black designer t-shirt.

  The memory of his uncontained laughter still rang in her ears. Thankfully, as he laid sprawled on the collapsed bed, indulging in his chuckle fest, she was pretty sure he’d missed the sight of her frantically scampering off the bed. The night’s fun disappearing with the reality of her scrabbling around on the floor looking for her glasses, bra, knickers and mercy be, a sheet to wrap around herself.

  Flouncing out of the guest bedroom she’d all but run to the master suite where she’d hit the shower and dressed in her own - thankfully clean and dry - yoga pants and wine coloured hoodie. All the while muttering under her breath, wishing horrible things down on Erik Valhalla’s head.

  The man was such an incorrigible tease. Move in with him! After one night of sleeping together?

  The man was insane. Why would Erik, who described himself as terminally single, make such an offer? It had to be some kind of practical joke… or, was this a new tactic of his to scare her off? Afraid that after last night she might have gotten too attached? Like he was some sort of sex god and she was some feeble minded simpleton that he now had to fend off.

  Hah, just to spite him she should take him up on his offer. He’d probably turned as green as pea soup if she did, it would serve him right.

  Move in with him? What on earth could have possessed him to ask that question? As she stood in t
he shower scrubbing herself down with the expensive body wash in a desperate attempt to remove the scent of Erik that clung to her she had another thought. Gulp, what if Erik had made the offer because he was feeling sorry for her?

  Now that she came to think about it, she actually didn’t have a place to live. After blowing out the picture window in her rental cottage she doubted very much that the landlord would want her back. Or… another thought bubbled to the surface, what if Erik was just being chivalrous? Believing she required protection from Sek and Mot, who would need her body to act as a vessel once they found their father’s Chi.

  Stomping through to the kitchen in her dusty sneakers, observing that – got you – look, on Erik’s face, she’d known whatever was going on, he was up to no good. Grrr, the man spent all night worshipping her body, over and over again, never saying a single word about how he felt about her, other than his stupid, I surrender comment, and then with absolutely no lead up or explanation he asks her to move in with him. He was impossible.

  As she gulped down the remainder of her coffee, Cara sent him another hard glare. Just what was the sneaky SOB’s game plan? And just what role had he envisioned for her?

  Erik suppressed a chuckle as he absently studied his dusty work boots. He was definitely getting under Cara Devigne’s skin, exactly where he wanted to be.

  He’d been pretty sure this morning when she’d woken up in the harsh light of day she’d been about to turn around, thank him politely for a pleasant night… probably awkwardly shake his hand or something… and then high tail it out of the bedroom, determined to forget their night together had ever happened.

  No way, Angel. That was not an option. Cara might be giving him the silent treatment and ignoring him, but the evidence of how much he affected her was all around them.

  “Time to go I guess.” He placed his empty coffee cup down.

  “Should we… clean up first?” High colour stained Cara’s cheeks.

  “Nah, I’ll call in a cleaning crew that meets Locke’s high standards and get them to speak to maintenance about repairing… the electricals…” He glanced upwards, all the electricals had blown about ten minutes ago when his hand had accidentally brushed up against Cara’s as he’d handed her a plate of toast. “… and the toaster…” he glanced over, poor thing was still smouldering. “… the coffee pot…” the cracked pot was in the sink. “… the bed…. and the…?” He left the question dangling.

  Cara heaved a small embarrassed sigh and finished his sentence, muttering under her breath.

  “Sorry?” Erik grinned. “I missed that.”

  “And the master bathroom, okay. There are a few cracked tiles and the mirror needs replacing.”

  “Hmm, seven years bad luck breaking a mirror.”

  Cara pushed back her chair quickly and stood up, hands on her hips, scowling at Erik. “I’m already in triple digits when it comes to mirrors. Besides, you’ve been around me long enough by now to know that it’s usually the person standing next to me, or the one pissing me off the most, who gets hurt… don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Erik chuffed a laugh again. “Bring it on, Angel.” He strode across the room, gently cupping one her elbows, steering her back into the living room, aiming for the linen closet where Locke had located his trans-portal. Leaning over slightly he whispered directly in to her ear. “I’m still waiting on an answer to my question by the way. You are going to move in with me, aren’t you?”

  In the kitchen, something heavy and breakable hit the floor with a loud crash followed by an explosion of glass. Erik didn’t stop moving forward, the grin on his face broadening, he was so under Cara Devigne’s skin.

  * * *

  Erik would have been more amused by the Maat warriors’ wary reaction to Cara’s presence if it hadn’t become all too apparent that Cara was out to kill him. Again.

  The handle of the closet portal leading into Maat Towers breaking off in his hand was his first clue.

  The second was the conference chair collapsing beneath him. Seriously, it managed to take the weight of seven beefcake warriors, and his not so lightweight - six foot six – sister, every other day of the week, but he plants his – in comparison – dainty ass down, and the next second he’s sprawled on the carpet.

  Finding a spare chair wasn’t easy, as there were ten people cramped together in the small, very plain, meeting room. After a little bit of shuffling he managed to plunk his new seat down right next to Cara, moving his chair in close, ensuring she was aware that he was there to support, help and protect her. Plus, it had the added bonus of making her just that little bit nervous, he was definitely getting to her, as she shot wary glances at him out the corner of her eye.

  Hmmm, seems his Angel didn’t like him staking a public claim on her… huh, bad luck, there was nothing she could do about it unless she wanted to cause a scene.

  He’d barely had that thought when a ceiling tile dropped without warning, smashing directly down onto Erik’s head and shoulders. Luckily for him it was made out of reconstituted wood so all he had to do was shake his head and brush off the broken pieces and dust.

  Still, it was a good reminder that he shouldn’t underestimate Cara and her powers. With that in mind, he inched his chair away from hers just a little… to give her some breathing room. Biting back an amused smile, noting that all of the beefcake warriors were eyeing the ceiling with a little trepidation. His Angel had them on their toes, good for her.

  “Sorry about the space.” Vaughn was seated at the head of the cramped table and doing his best to look relaxed and as unintimidating as possible. Kind of hard when you are seven foot three, your skin glimmers with mysterious gold flickering lights and you look like you could win a wrestling contest with a grizzly bear, one handed. But he obviously all too vividly recalled Cara’s last visit and was trying to keep her at ease. “But we’ve just rehung all the swords in the main conference room following your last visit with us, and we didn’t want to tempt…”

  “… another incident?” Cara politely filled in the blank, though her cheeks bloomed with colour in memory. Thank God all of Maat’s elite warriors and Erik’s sister were fast healers.

  “Incident, exactly.” Vaughn flashed her a warm smile.

  Erik rolled his eyes, what sort of half-assed operation was Maat running here? A crummy tiny meeting room, collapsing chairs and plastic cups and matching water jug on the table. Perhaps the rumours he’d heard of all the damage Cara had done to the warriors on her previous visit were true and they were just being ultra-careful. Hmm, he considered what damage Cara might inflict upon him right at this moment if she had access to a wall full of deadly pointed objects and was suddenly grateful for the close quarters.

  “Water?” Flynn, one of the twins, offered gallantly, his hazel green eyes glowing with amusement.

  Cara shook her head, managing a small smile of thanks. It was funny, this time around, instead of seeing walking mountain sized walls of muscle and humungous bone crushing fists when she looked at Maat’s warriors, she saw seven guys dressed in fatigues, going above and beyond to try and make her feel comfortable and at ease. Nicer still, though they all looked wary of her, they didn’t look afraid or appear to be holding any grudges. And considering all the bloodshed that had occurred on her last visit that had to be a miracle in itself.

  She was starting to think that they really were just a nice group of very large, obviously very capable killing machines… whoops, she meant good guys. Okay, so she might still have slight reservations about them but geez, who wouldn’t when you were only five foot eight and surrounded on all sides by men who emanated strength, confidence and power.

  These men fought for balance and truth every day and had done so for over a hundred years… gulp, she was chaos, wasn’t she their enemy? Yet they didn’t look or treat her as if she was. Damn it, they were noble too, weren’t they? Now she felt doubly bad for all the damage she’d inflicted upon them during her last visit.

  �
��So tell us about what happened with Sek and Mot.”

  Cara turned slightly in her chair to face the one person who was not looking relaxed or attempting to make Cara feel comfortable or at ease. Hadleigh, Erik’s sister, sat next to her mate, Vaughn. She was dressed in all black, her clear grey eyes trained intently upon Cara. She looked like a scary ninja warrior, but with serious curves that the woman totally owned.

  Her curly short red hair should have softened her features but somehow the dancing red glints in her hair only served to make Cara think about fresh blood, a shiver sliding down her spine. Even sitting still, Hadleigh exuded a knife’s edge tension and an aura of eminent death and destruction.

  Understandable, Cara supposed, given Hadleigh’s personal history with Sek and Mot. Almost a year ago now, the duo had tried to kill her under the mistaken belief that Hadleigh was a witch. Sek and Mot had walked away from that incident, not exactly winners, as they had failed to raise their father from death, but they’d still managed to walk away, which Cara was guessing really, really pissed Hadleigh off.

  “Tone, Gigantore.” Erik siting on her left, reprimanded his sister.

  Hadleigh didn’t look as if she’d heard him, her gaze never shifting from Cara.

  “What have I said about name calling?” Vaughn’s voice was soft but there was a slight edge to it, as if this was an ongoing battle. “This is your first and only warning.”

  “Sek and Mot?” Hadleigh said their names again, through gritted teeth, as if it hurt her to pronounce them. In her right hand a gleaming gold dagger suddenly appeared, one moment her hand had been empty, next she was clasping a shiny dagger.

  Surprisingly, Cara found herself cool and calm in the face of it. Hadleigh might be glaring her way, but that scowl wasn’t meant for her. In a clear concise voice she retold the story, from the eerie winds in Haven Bay right up until the moment she and Erik had exited The Metropolitan Museum. Only pausing once in her recitation to accept a plastic cup of water from Dash. The only sound as she spoke was the click and electronic whir of Marcus’s tablet as he input the information she provided.