The Sexy & The Undead

by Charity Parkerson

  “You’re a genius,” she exclaimed, accepting his gift.

  With a happy grunt, Freddie settled himself back at the kitchen table with his books.

  Dipping the vial into the mixture, she inserted the cork, trapping the precious drops inside before wiping off the excess with a nearby hand towel. Unfortunately, she took too much time busying herself with tying it around her neck and forgot about turning the heat down on the stove.

  Oily smoke began to roll from the pot and a hint of panic began to worm its way into Ella’s mind. She tried pulling it from the eye and waving off the fumes, but it was too late. The brew had taken on a life of its own. Backing away slowly, Ella almost made it across the room before a giant fireball shot out and blew her off her feet. Her body slammed into the wall behind her, and her head spun as the room plunged into darkness. She tried hard to stay conscious, but the blackness pulled her under. Luckily, it didn’t claim her for long as she felt someone shaking her. It took a couple of tries in order to pry her eyes open as they refused to obey her mind. Her throat burned and her stomach churned at the horrible smell that hung in the air. The smoke detector squawked loudly, reverberating off the walls and causing her head to pound even harder. She absently noted that Freddie was whimpering in the corner, but Ella’s gaze remained locked on the man attempting to keep her awake. His broad muscular chest was bare, and a long dark braid fell over one shoulder as he leaned over her. Black wings stood out from his back, blocking out the room behind him, and his silver eyes held a hint of concern as he checked her over for injuries.

  “Am I dead?” Ella asked, when she could think of no other reason for an angel to be attending her needs, even if he was a dark angel.

  “I do not believe so,” he answered, and his deep voice came out sounding so musical that she wanted to touch him to see if he was real. “Do you feel dead?” he asked, sounding curious.

  “You have wings,” she explained. As the words left her mouth, the giant black wings disappeared from sight. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, Ella tried to grip ahold of reality. When she reopened her eyes, she found the same sexy man leaning over her, only now a tiny fairy stood on his shoulder staring down at her as well.

  “Holy smidgeon shot, Samuel, she’s gonna have a real shiner under that left eye,” the pixie observed. The foot-tall woman was wearing an all-leather bright-orange outfit, but she seemed concerned about Ella’s well-being, and for some reason that made up for it.

  “I must have really hit my head hard,” Ella noted. The pair nodded their agreement. “It hurts, so I’m going to assume that I’m not dead. I mean, you don’t hurt after death, right?” she asked.

  Both the fairy and the hot stranger shrugged their shoulders while maintaining the same lost look.

  Ella made a move to sit, but Freddie chose that moment to strike. She watched in horror as he snatched the pixie up and shoved her in his mouth. Tiny legs kicked out in every direction as he fought to chew, but she was too strong and wrestled to get away. Sexy Stranger sprang into action, snagging her by one ankle and jerking her from inside of Freddie’s mouth. It sounded exactly like a cork popping out of a bottle of champagne, and Freddie howled at the loss of his snack. Ella stared, transfixed, at the mysterious man. He was every bit of seven feet tall and wore only a black kilt that hung to his knees. A black tattoo of wings covered his bare back and they moved in time with the muscles that were flexing with his every motion. He was arresting. She recognized that she should make some attempt to pull herself from the floor, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him long enough to do anything but stare. Fortunately, a bright flash filled the room and the foot-tall pixie became a full-grown woman around five-two. She was dripping wet and looked pissed as hell. Her anger focused on Freddie and it gave Ella the drive she needed to move. Jumping to her feet, she placed herself solidly between the whimpering Freddie and the pixie bent on killing him.

  “Please don’t hurt him,” Ella begged. Although the woman was shorter than she was, Ella felt sure that she also possessed a great deal of magic, and the last thing Freddie needed was another damn curse.

  The pixie’s green eyes flashed dangerously and one of her wings tilted at an odd angle. “He licked me and not in the good way,” she cried, her voice becoming higher with each word.

  Ella felt her mouth twitch despite the situation and she had to force herself not to laugh since she didn’t think it would help the circumstances. Sexy as Sin seemed to have no such qualms. He snorted once, then roared with laughter until he was steadying himself with one hand on the counter.

  “You,” he said, sounding as if he was choking. “Your wings,” he tried again. He giggled. “You got eaten. HAHAHA!”

  His laughter was contagious and, despite Ella’s best efforts, she found herself joining in at his final words. He made her getting eaten sound so naughty that even the pixie snorted.

  Clearing her throat, Ella made a valiant attempt to keep the laughter from her voice. “If you’d like, you can take a shower here. I’m sure that I can find you something to wear.” Even as she said the words, Ella wondered what she could loan the fairy that wouldn’t crush her wings.

  The pixie turned her shining eyes in Ella’s direction and to her great relief there was no longer any anger, only merriment there. “Nah,” she said on a shrug. Then, in a move that resembled a dog’s, she shook all over and magically was once again set to rights, appearing as if nothing ever happened.

  The gorgeous man, having caught his breath, stood to his full height once more. Wiping his eyes, he held out his hand to her. “I am Samuel, and this is Tam,” he tacked on, nodding in the fairy’s direction.

  As Ella’s hand was swallowed by his much larger one, electricity surged up her arm, and she had to resist the urge to make sure her hair wasn’t standing on end.

  “I’m Ella, and this is Freddie,” she added, nodding in his direction as Samuel had with Tam. The funny thing about their introduction was, neither one of them spared a glance for the other’s companion. Their eyes remained locked on one another and neither one of them attempted to pull away from the other’s hold.

  “Awk-warrrd,” Tam sang out when the moment went a minute too long, and Ella reluctantly pulled her hand away when Freddie grunted in agreement.

  “I’m very grateful for your assistance,” Ella told them both, scrambling for something to say. “How did you know that I was injured?” Did fairies and shirtless men come to people’s aid during magical disasters? Somehow, she doubted that, since no one had volunteered to help Freddie, except Ella, of course…lucky her.

  Casting his eyes around the room, Samuel searched for an excuse. His gaze landed on the window, and spotting a huge stone angel in the distance through the curtains, he said the first thing that came to mind. “I was visiting the grave of a friend when I heard the explosion.” He nodded as if trying to punctuate his words and had to force himself to stop before she began to wonder who he was trying to convince that his excuse sounded plausible. Her head turned in the direction of the window.

  “You were at the cemetery,” she repeated as if testing the explanation for herself. “Wearing only a kilt?”

  Rocking back on his heels, he clasped his hands behind his back. “Well, it is very warm today.”

  Ella’s eyes latched onto his chest, and seemed to lose focus as she nodded at his excuse. “Yes, it’s very warm,” she agreed.

  When she clutched the neck of her own shirt and began fanning it open as if seeking more air, he suggested, “Maybe you should take off your shirt too before you get the heat exhaustion.” When Tam snorted at his words, he smiled innocently.

  “It’s not fair,” Ella grumbled.

  “I know, right?” Tam agreed, drawing herself up to her full height. “Why can’t we take off our clothes to catch a breeze? I mean, men’s nipples get hard too, but we can’t show ours off. What’s up with that?”

  Freddie grunted his approval. His head bobbed up and down as if ready to pi
cket for feminine rights.

  With the drama subsiding, the putrid stench of burnt potion began to penetrate her pores and she felt a rush of horror. This sexy man could smell her stink.

  “It was nice of you to check on me. Come again soon.” She wanted to smack herself at the stupid statement as she rushed the pair to the door. However, she didn’t slow her step. They needed to leave. Wrapping her fingers around the knob, she tugged twice before she realized it was locked and she quickly twisted the dial. Her hand froze at the loud click. How did they get in? Catching the flicker of Tam’s wings out the corner of her eye, she shrugged and threw the door open. No doubt, Tam had used magic to flash them inside.

  “It was nice meeting you. Thanks for not killing Freddie. Sorry that he made you all wet. I mean licked you.” Ella really did smack her palm against her forehead this time as Samuel chuckled. She immediately regretted it. “Ow.”

  “No worries, chicky. If I had a dime for every time a zombie tried to eat me . . .” Tam trailed off as if attempting to figure the amount in her head.

  Samuel reached out, snagging Ella’s hand. Lifting her fingers to his mouth, he touched his lips to the back of her hand. “You would have exactly ten cents,” he told Tam while holding Ella’s gaze.

  Her knees went to jelly and she was fairly certain that she sighed, but her hearing failed at the touch of his lips against her skin.

  “Come again,” she repeated. Okay, she officially needed an idiot muzzle.

  A wicked smile touched his lips as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. “I look forward to coming here…soon.”

  Ella was still blinking at the spot where he had been, ten minutes after the door closed behind them.

  “Wow.”

  She was in so much trouble.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “I’ve been thinking about Freddie,” Randall said as soon as Ella walked through the door. Relieved that he didn’t mention how she was ten minutes late, again, she seized hold of the topic.

  “Really, how so?”

  Randall pushed his glasses up his nose with his middle finger, in the way that always made her feel as if he was flipping her the bird as he inspected her more closely. “You have a black eye.”

  “I. . .” she started, but Randall interrupted her.

  “You’re also ten minutes late and have Freddie with you,” he added, leaving out the “again,” but it hung in the air between them as surely as if he had screamed it out loud.

  “It won’t happen . . .” she began and Randall’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling. “You were thinking about Freddie,” she reminded him. There was something about Randall’s eyebrows that left her feeling thoroughly chastised as if he had spent fifteen minutes lecturing her, except it was in a facial hair language that only she could understand.

  “Well then,” he said, letting her off the hook. He moved to his worktable, waving for her to follow him. “Take a look at this.”

  Randall’s workstation seemed more like Dr. Frankenstein’s lab than an apothecary. Glass tubing ran from vial to vial as pink and blue fluids met halfway to form a purple bubbling brew. Once Ella thought she caught sight of an old black cauldron in his office before he’d quickly ushered her out, but she had not forgotten it.

  “What am I looking at?” she asked as she came to stand at his side.

  “It’s a new concoction,” he answered, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. “To cure Freddie,” he added.

  Ella’s heart sank. There had been a time when she thought that she could cure Freddie through medicine as well, but disappointment lay at the end of that hope. “Freddie’s not infected with some disease,” she reminded him. “I’m afraid that only the witch that cast the spell can undo his condition. That day will never come,” she added, disappointment lacing her words. Selena Smoke had been a vengeful woman and even if she were still alive, in order to break Freddie’s curse, she would not have done so. She would have relished every day that Freddie spent suffering. Ella felt her only true hope was to become equally as powerful as Selena had been, and then possibly she could create the perfect potion for Freddie.

  A tiny tinkle of bottles moving was all the warning they had before several glass vials went crashing to floor. Sharp rainbow-colored shards flew in complete disorder, and Ella spun in the direction of the sound. Freddie traced the tiled floor pattern with the toe of his shoe, appearing every inch the guilty child.

  “Perhaps we could try it out,” Randall suggested, sounding tired and desperate. Although Randall proposed doing almost exactly what Ella herself had been trying to do ever since Selena’s death, she still scoffed. Randall’s work originated from science, while Ella’s was based more on magical properties.

  “You’re not giving any of that crap to my sweet baby,” Ella snapped as she waved Freddie away, snatched up a nearby broom, and angrily swiped it across the floor. Even though she knew that Randall was trying to help, and he could fire her at any time that he like, she was not about to let him experiment on Freddie.

  “Your sweet baby is destroying my shop,” Randall exclaimed as another glass vial tumbled to the floor.

  “Look, Mr. Cruz, I know that your heart is the right place, but as Freddie’s guardian I can’t allow you to treat him as your own personal test subject.”

  “Just this once,” Randall pleaded. CRASH! “Please?”

  Ella cringed but stood her ground. “No.”

  KABOOM!

  A tiny explosion shook the store, and black plumes of smoke came billowing through the room. Coughing, Ella waved a hand in front of her face in an attempt to clear the air. Randall’s hair stood on end, making him appear as if he had stuck his finger in an electrical socket. Soot covered one side of his face, but his eyes shined angrily in her direction through the dirt.

  “Just this one time,” she agreed without giving Randall the chance to kill her.

  ***

  New Orleans, while relatively young compared to him, was a city of flavor. Supernaturals often came here in order to visit or lived openly since the unusual was the ordinary. Cruz Apothecary blended nicely into the scenery. Unfortunately, Samuel was beginning to realize that even in a town such as this, he was an oddity since several people openly gawked as he weaved his way through the crowded streets. He was on the hunt for a beautiful witch with blonde hair. He wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew that she was really okay. The putrid smell hit him first, but then he spotted the door of the medicine shop. Someone had propped it open by cramming a shoe beneath it. Underneath the stench of burning chemicals, another scent carried on the breeze. His woman was inside. He didn’t question how he knew that she would belong to him. The instincts that saved him during many battles had never failed him before and this was no different.

  The life threads that connected people with or against their wills strung the walls of the palace he lived within, and he knew how to recognize their intangible signature. Ella was the thread that twisted with his.

  The narrow doorway was barely wide enough for his shoulders and he had to duck as he stepped through to keep from hitting his head. Despite the tight fit, the sight of Ella’s gorgeous legs as she stretched up onto her toes in order to straighten the contents on a shelf above her head made it worthwhile.

  She didn’t notice his arrival and he held his silence for a minute in order to enjoy the show at leisure. He’d seen beautiful women before, hordes of them to be exact, but Ella glowed from the inside. For someone such as Samuel, someone who lived his life as a prisoner of duty, she was a beacon of warmth begging him to come inside. He felt as if he’d only known the cold before looking into her eyes.

  “I find that all I must do is follow the smoke and there you are.”

  Ella covered her eyes at the sound of Samuel’s voice. There was no way that he was standing behind her. It could not be happening. Slowly turning, she dropped her hands to find the same sexy and shirtless man she’d met the night before.

  His long dark hair
fell in a braid over one shoulder. The only difference today was that he was not barefoot, and instead he wore a black pair of combat boots.

  She made an involuntary “mhmm” sound and his eyes twinkled, but he didn’t call her out on it. Clearing her throat, she forced her hormones back under control.

  “I didn’t do it,” she said, feeling a strange need to clarify that point.

  His mouth twitched and he brushed his fingers over it as if attempting to wipe his laughter away.

  “There are a great many flammable materials here,” he said after a moment. “I was worried about you,” he added before she could question his presence.

  “I have a black eye,” she said idiotically. Well, didn’t she sound as if she had some form of fucked up Tourette’s? The smile that had threatened to show itself earlier now burst to life at her words.

  “Really?” he asked. “I would have never been able to tell underneath all of that soot.”

  “No,” she breathed, horrified. Rushing from the room, she yelled over her shoulder, “Don’t move a muscle!”