by Jane Cousins
There was no phone in sight. Only a couple of bookcases full of what looked like the latest bestsellers. Hmmm, no way to contact the outside world, his legs immobilised, strange house, trapped… nasty flashbacks of the movie Misery began to play through his mind.
“Er… Hello?... Anybody?” His voice sounded husky and strained.
Where was his mobile? Shit, where was his gear? Ignoring the pain he levered himself upright and frantically looked around the room. His gut unclenching as he spied the saddlebags from his motorbike lying in a far corner. The leather looked a little more scuffed than usual but other than that they seemed undamaged. Too far away to do him any good.
He tried again. “Hello…? Need some help in here.”
“Hold… your… seahorses… I’m coming.” An impatient female voice sounded and a few seconds later hot doctor number one from his dreams appeared, hopping on one leg as she pulled on a sky high red stiletto… hmm, Liam instantly pictured her wearing those shoes and only her white coat. His cock instantly leapt to attention, nice to know he hadn’t been dreaming that all his most important parts were still operational either.
He took a moment to study the woman, she was just as beautiful as he remembered and the fitted dark blue dress did great things for her incredibly long legs, flawless dark skin and bought out the green flecks in her dark eyes.
“Kathy Bates, I presume?”
“What?” She gave him a dark eyed glare, flipping her glossy black mane back over one shoulder absently. “Did you hit your head in the accident as well, or are you normally just addled?”
“I was making a reference to the movie Misery.” He gestured at his immobilised legs.
The exotic beauty’s frown deepened. “Never heard of it… so, what do you want? I’m running late for work.”
Liam wanted to smile but his face was too numb. It was funny, the harder this woman glared the more it made him want to smile. “Some answers might be nice.” He cleared his sore throat. “Why can’t I move my legs? Why am I covered in blue gunk and seaweed? Where am I? And who are you exactly?”
Devon surveyed the mess that was Liam Chambers, wrapped like some sort of Egyptian seaweed mummy, oozing blue ointment, his hair blue and spiked. The man really did look a laughable sight. Without thinking she raised her mobile and took a photo. You never knew when blackmail material might be required some time down the road. “You don’t know who I am?” She asked in disbelief.
“Well… no.”
“Seriously?”
“Er… am I supposed to? We didn’t…” He indicated the bed. “…last night, did we?”
“What? No!” Devon amped up her glare to sizzling.
“Oh, so this…” Liam indicated his immobilized legs and layers of seaweed. “…isn’t some sort of weird kinky sex thing?”
“No, it’s not some sort of weird kinky sex thing. You were in an accident… a motorbike accident.”
“Was anyone else hurt?” Liam wanted to frown, it felt weird having no idea under the layers of blue ooze and seaweed whether he was succeeding.
“No. It was a single vehicle accident. You have several broken bones in your foot, your left ankle and your right lower leg. I’m told there was also a fire. You were burnt… rather badly I’m afraid. Across the chest, your neck and your face. We think you may have inhaled some of the fumes as well, that’s why it hurts to breathe… to talk.”
Liam nodded, showing he was processing the information, a memory… something tickled at the back of his mind. “Why am I here then? This isn’t a hospital, is it?”
Devon shook her head, her lips pressed together tightly. “You wore out your welcome there pretty quickly. I hope you have insurance, you basically destroyed one of the trauma rooms. And the nurses have mention your name and the word jihad together one too many times for you to ever go back there.”
“Ah… this is your home, isn’t it? You intend to nurse me back to health personally. You took one look at my magnificent body and fell in instant lust. I’m seeing it now. You spoon feeding me jello… naked. Hot sudsy fun times sponge baths… both of us naked. Letting me rest my fevered brow on your perky full breasts… naked, of course.”
“Hey… eyes up here.” Devon clicked her fingers. She was surprised that she had to suppress the urge to laugh, if only he could see how bad he looked, blue, flaking, entombed in seaweed so that only his lips and eyes, a surprising aquamarine in colour, were visible. “There was no goodness of my heart moment. The hospital basically kicked you out and despite my desperate pleas, no one else would take you in. Basically I’m stuck with you, and while you are here… you will behave. You can be spoon fed and have as many sponge baths as you can stand but I’m not sure how Nabha, or her husband, will feel about you resting your head on her perky full breasts… just promise me I can be in the room when you ask.”
“Who is Nabha?”
“My Great-Great-Aunt. I have to work days and when I’m not working I have to focus all my attention on dating, so I’ve asked my Aunt to come and watch you.” Devon turned her head as distant knocking sounded. “Good, that sounds like her now.” Swinging around, his gorgeous doctor strode out the room on those stunning long legs.
Huh, dating? Had the hot doctor really said dating? And damn it, he still didn’t know her name. He couldn’t keep referring to her as hot doctor… although, it did have kind of a nice fantasy porn name ring to it.
He strained to hear as feminine voices sounded in the distance, nah… too far away. Although they were getting closer now. Hot doctor strode through the door, accompanied by a curvy older woman wearing white trousers and a matching long sleeved top with a silver scarf draped across her upper body and over one shoulder. She was a few inches shorter than her great-great-niece, her skin a little darker as were her eyes, jet black, no sign of any green flecks. Her hair was long and loose, cascading down her back, black in colour with only a few visible strands of grey. Good gene pool.
“This is him?” Stern black eyes assessed Liam dispassionately.
Liam got the distinct impression it was going to take all his charm to win over Aunt Nabha.
“Yes.” Hot doctor turned to face her Aunt. “Are you sure you’re okay to do this? I can pretty much guarantee he’s going to be high maintenance and annoying. If you accidentally end up strangling him… well, I’ll completely understand.”
“Hey.” Liam protested, croakily. “Where’s the love?”
“We’ll be fine sweetheart.” Nabha reached up to smooth back her niece’s hair. “Go, you’ll be late otherwise.”
Hot doctor hesitated, sending Liam a pointed warning look. “You… be good.” Turning her attention back to her Aunt she sighed softly. “I’d really like my security deposit back on this place, so if you do end up having to kill him… well…”
Nabha laughed softly, patting her niece on the arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it outside.”
“Good.” Devon sighed with relief. That was one less thing to worry about. “As long as we’re on the same page.”
Liam shook his head, the hot doctor’s bedside manner left a lot to be desired. He watched as she turned to leave. “Wait! I still don’t know your name.”
She swivelled back glaring at him. “You’re an idiot. You know that right?” On that resounding note she disappeared from view, her shoes making a hard clicking sound as she departed.
“What?” He looked to Nabha for a clue. “What did I say?”
Nabha shook her head. “Did you hit your head in that accident?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? No, I did not.”
“Are you sure?” Nabha enquired. “I could call Devon back and she could examine you.”
“Devon?” By the Trident, Devon! Devon Patel!
Shit, it all came back to him in an instant. All the dread and panic churning in his gut, his bike eating up the miles, faster and faster. Despite every survival instinct he had telling him to flee in the opposite direction, he’d known he had t
o get to the Southern Sanctuary. So close. Then the feel of magic blindsiding him, the bike skidding out of control, the wall of strange green flame that burned hotter still when he tried… and failed, to call water to douse it. Falling, his skin on fire, just enough awareness left to rip his saddlebags off the sliding bike and throw them clear as beneath him the bike exploded in a fireball and he threw himself sideways, pain exploding in his legs.
Shit. Devon Patel was the Makura Princess, the one he’d come here to protect. If he failed, there would be war and the seas would churn red with blood.
Of course, he was still a little ambivalent about saving her high and mighty royal hide. If he was successful it would mean he’d likely be getting married in the very near future. If not to the high maintenance Makura diva, then to one of the betrothal brides waiting in the wings, women from clans who were notoriously vicious and rather unpleasant to look upon.
He’d been told growing up not to worry about the betrothal and spawning contracts, the Makura had first choice and he’d been assured there was very little chance a hoity-toity Makura Princess would lower herself to actually wed a Merrow.
When would he ever learn? He’d heard that tall tale from his father, the King of liars.
Still, even when Devon had announced her engagement to his brother Case, he hadn’t been worried. Case was the prince of pricks, no one had expected them to make it to the altar and surprise, surprise, the whole engagement had crashed and burned.
That should have been the end of it, surely the notorious Makura pride wouldn’t allow the Princess to subject herself to the humiliation of going through the meet and greet candidacy trials. Yet, just like all his brothers he’d received a hand written invitation from Alma Richart, who billed herself as a match maker, demanding he visit the Southern Sanctuary Queensland on the dates specified in his invitation.
He hadn’t planned on attending, but something, some pull had him heading towards the southern hemisphere as the time neared. Then he’d heard from a very credible source who rode the Great Southern Current that someone wanted the Makura Princess dead. Shit, if the Makura Princess died and it could be traced back to the Merrow… the waters would churn with blood.
It was a tough one, war… marriage?
He’d still been undecided when he’d hopped on his motorbike, intending to race to the Southern Sanctuary to warn her of the rumours. Now that he’d met the Princess he was sure of one thing, there would be war alright, but not between the clans, he was here and personally volunteering to go mano a mano with the lovely Devon Patel.
Oh, he had no intentions of marrying the woman… any woman for that matter, but the tussle, the dance. He and Devon Patel would definitely be going to the mattresses, just not the mafia kind, Poseidon help them both.
Chapter Three
Devon loved driving. Her champagne coloured convertible Mercedes Benz was her pride and joy. On this mid-spring afternoon as she drove home from the hospital with the top down, she let her hair out to play. No one seeing her go by would think it weird that her long curls danced and played on the passing winds. Whipping out, twirling, twining, dipping… her mass of long black hair gleefully embracing the opportunity to play. Never tangling. Never blinding her or getting caught in her lipstick.
Many thought the Makura’s greatest weapon was their three inch ultra-sharp retractable fingernails but few realised until it was too late that a Makura’s titanium strength hair could be just as deadly. Of course, thanks to her mixed heritage, Devon had a few more tricks up her sleeve than just her hair and nails.
Heaving out an unconscious sigh she wondered idly what she’d find when she finally got home? Would Nabha have killed Liam by now? She highly doubted there would have been much jello spoon feeding, fun time sponge baths or head resting on naked cleavage. Hmmm, there was a thought. If her Aunt had bathed the Merrow Royal, would she finally get a chance to see what he looked like? Not that it mattered. But still, it would be interesting… purely on a scientific level, nothing more.
So he’d almost made her laugh. An unprecedented event in itself. It meant nothing. So he was charming. And he didn’t wah-wah on about being injured and in pain like most weak males of any species. She’d had a moment to look up the movie Misery online today, and speed watching the first thirty minutes she could, on reflection, find his earlier comments mildly amusing.
A stray curl whipped out from the left to lightly tap her on the cheek. Huh, wake up Devon, why are you even thinking about the injured Merrow? He was just a lingering nuisance now, an unwanted houseguest. She should be concentrating on her next looming date, scheduled for three days’ time. She immediately pushed that thought away. Grr, who knew what fresh horrors the next date would bring. She willed her nails under control, no way was she marking up her baby’s leather steering wheel.
Okay, how about she dwell on the administrative slap on the wrist she’d received today. Or, as she called it, coffee with Nell. Same old, same old.
Be kinder to the patients, Devon. Yeah, right, like that was going to happen.
Don’t make personal comments about their dress sense, questionable inbreeding parentage or level of intelligence, Devon. How was it her fault her patients insisted upon wearing such hideous clothes and said such patently stupid things? If someone didn’t point it out, how would they learn?
Why do you insist upon making the other doctors cry, Devon? Well, it was either that or vent her frustration out on the nurses and everyone knew, you never… ever… pissed off the nurses. So a few blubbering doctors was a small price to pay really. Nell had outright laughed at that answer.
Administrative crap dealt with they’d proceeded to chat about a variety of topics, including the chocolate and champagne charity event that Gigi, one of Nell’s copious cousins, was organising this coming Friday night. Hmm, she must remember to ask Nabha if she were free to Smurf sit. Grr, once more her thoughts shied away from her enforced houseguest. Her mind shifting to another annoying topic, Sienna Groves, and her as yet medically unexplainable blistered oesophagus.
There were no visual clues as to why the woman’s throat kept flaring, twice now. Throat cultures or even an exploratory might have helped provide some insight but the weepy woman refused anything she termed invasive. Which left Devon with no recourse but to prescribe anti-inflammatories and antibiotics. Which might blunt the pain but didn’t seem to be curing the woman.
This second flare up though, it worried her. Sienna claimed to have no allergies and no idea why her throat had erupted with blisters. The woman was obviously in a lot of pain but she appeared to expect Devon to perform miracles, stubbornly refusing to submit to any tests or check herself into the hospital for observation.
There was little Devon could do for her but paint her throat with a powerful numbing agent and send her on her way… until the inevitable next time.
Turning into the driveway of her rental property Devon switched off the engine and waited a moment as her hair settled reluctantly into place, streaming down her back sedately. She’d lucked out when it came to this place on North River Drive. On the outside it had a rustic feel that she’d initially been a little hesitant about, but the location and the fact that the back half of the house rested on stilts over the Blauw waterway that eventually led out to sea swayed her decision. Not to mention the interior came fully furnished in a style that would have made a New York stylist shed a tear in envy.
And the piece de resistance was the large square outdoor deck and narrow dock that meant she could sit by the soothing river day or night, accessing it easily anytime she felt like a swim. When it was high tide she could sit on the deck and practically dip her toes in the water, it was that close.
Grrr, normally, after a day spent dealing with the whining general populace she would head straight for the dock, strip and sink into the cool watery embrace of the river, letting the water ease her tensions and drain away her anger. Not today though, today she had to deal with her intrusive houseguest. Or,
maybe, looking on the bright side, there might only be a body left to dispose of, happy thoughts.
Her Great-Great-Aunt was there to open the door for her, delicious familiar spicy scents engulfing her as she leaned over to kiss her Aunt’s warm cheek. “You made dinner? You didn’t have to do that.”
Nabha’s black eyes surveyed Devon’s tired features. “Bah. It kept me busy. I left it warming in the oven so you can eat at your leisure.”
“You should stay, share the meal with me.” Devon issued the invitation readily. She’d only met her Great-Great-Aunt a week ago, when she and her husband, Adalard, returned from their cruise. She’d been pleasantly surprised to find she enjoyed spending time with her newly acquainted relative. Perhaps because Nabha so often reminisced about her early days at the Makura court, fondly recounting tales of her niece, Devon’s grandmother, and the naughty things she used to get up to. All going in Devon’s mental files labelled - future blackmail material.
“Oh, I’d love to stay, but Adalard and I are going to see that new flick at the cinema this evening, the spy movie where everyone dies. Not really his cup of tea, but he does like to indulge me.” Nabha’s head turned as the sound of a car engine drew close, her black eyes lighting up. “Oh, there he is now. I’d better run. See you tomorrow, dear one.”
Devon watched her elderly Aunt glide away, a few of her grey streaked dark curls waving goodbye to Devon. Once in the car Nabha leaned over to kiss Adalard as if they had been apart a month rather than just a few hours. Part of Devon sneered at the public display of affection, yet half of her couldn’t help but think it would be nice to have someone to kiss her and be willing to indulge her guilty pleasures.
Standing there at the front door, watching her Aunt and husband drive away, her concentration was broken by the sound of a distant but very distinct male groan. Rolling her eyes heavenwards Devon sought strength from the Goddess Yami. Time to check on the Smurf.
Devon didn’t know what to think as she entered the guestroom. Mainly because the very first thing that caught and held her eye was a very naked, very male, tightly sculpted ass. For some unknown reason, Liam was face down on the mattress, the sheet having slipped low to reveal… well, what could only be described as a mighty fine ass.