Insatiable (The Curse of Avalon Book 3)

by Sariah Skye

  “Gentlemen!” An upbeat male voice caught our attention; we shifted our eyes momentarily to a thin, tall man with a bright smile standing in front of a jewelry store, filled with bright, sparkling, shiny trinkets. Now, I’d never been one for jewelry, mostly because I could never afford it, but I’d be completely lying if I didn’t slow down and linger before a brightly-lit case of gold and gemstone jewelry. He reached out a hand, touching Bash in the arm lightly. “Perhaps a gift for your beautiful lady here?”

  Bash and Trystan exchanged a glance over my head, smirking. I hadn’t noticed that I was gawking pretty obviously.

  “Which one is your boyfriend, Beautiful?” The salesman’s tone was professionally upbeat, but there was something else about it.

  “Oh,” I said with a nervous giggle. “They, ah, actually both are, I guess you could say.”

  The salesman flinched, as if I just told him we were aliens from Mars with five nipples and fingers coming out of our butts. But he recovered quickly and feigned a bright grin. “Ah, modern love, how beautiful. Perhaps a little trinket to show you care? We’ve got a great sale—”

  Trystan raised his hand, dismissing the man. “We don’t need baubles to show her we care, man.”

  “No, that’s what the Victoria’s Secret fitting room is for,” Bash muttered kiddingly.

  The salesman’s face turned all sorts of red. “Perhaps another time then?”

  “Aye, we’ll see ye at Christmas,” Trystan replied, urging Bash and I away, narrowing his eyes at the salesman slightly. “Did ye see that, Sebastian? He was flirting. Right in front of us.”

  I snorted. “You have to be kidding me; he just wanted to sell stuff. You probably looked like easy pickings.”

  Bash halted in his steps. “Yeah…he was flirting, wasn’t he?” But he wasn’t angry. “That is sure a far cry from the coffee shop and the barista wouldn’t even pay attention to you. Couldn’t pay attention to you for more than five seconds.”

  Trystan’s brow shot up. “Oh. Aye, I think you’re right.”

  Poking him in the shoulder, I nodded. “See? And those women walked right past you. Didn’t even barely give you a glance.”

  “But, not every woman is attracted to us, Avie,” Bash insisted.

  My mouth set in a firm line. “No but come on. Watch this.” Another group of women were strolling down the aisle of the bright corridor, looking at their phones as they walked. They couldn’t have been more than eighteen, and surely a pair of hulking incubi with smoldering looks and six-pack abs still obvious through their shirts would grab their attention.

  One of the young girls with her black hair piled on her head, glanced up momentarily. She glanced at Bash and Trystan briefly, and smiled at me politely before turning back to her phone, her friends giggling about something on Snapchat. I pointed after them. “Are you telling me that none of them would be attracted to you? Even a little? That girl even looked up, and barely saw you! That is not normal.”

  Bash blew out slowly. “No, it’s really not.” He anxiously reached back and rubbed his neck, a nervous habit of his I was noticing.

  “What do ye think it is? Bloody hell, have we lost our touch?” Trystan said, with feigning mock horror, pressing his hand to his heart in a pretend worried swoon. I rolled my eyes.

  “I am not sure… but perhaps somehow, now that we are all together, more or less,” Bash added, when Trystan made a sour face, “maybe our magic is cancelling each other out?”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Or maybe my invisibility magic is inadvertently protecting you, too?” I suggested. “Lord knows it did me for years, when I didn’t even realize it.”

  “I’d think that, but then… what about that guy?” Bash suggested. “It doesn’t make sense. It’s not hiding you from him.”

  Trystan snickered. “Maybe because she secretly wants to be noticed by him.”

  I shot him a dirty look. “Ha. The only thing I wanted from him was the shinies.”

  He grinned. “Ah, I see now.”

  Bash ignored our banter, processing; you could see his mind going a mile a minute behind those steely-blue eyes. “It’s strange; we should be careful, though. If your magic isn’t protecting you anymore… you could be more vulnerable.”

  I waved him off. “I’m fine! Fine.”

  He shrugged. “Well… maybe.” Bash threaded his hand in with mine again. “We’ll worry about it later, I’ll do some research.”

  Trystan rolled his eyes. “Of course, ye will. Come on, we better get to the restroom before we leave. I want to see those new panties on that hot ass, Ava,” he said, with a lecherous grin.

  I nudged him in the ribs, and he coughed. “You’re such a pervert.”

  “Aye. Don’t forget it, either,” He said with a wide grin. Not like he’d let me.

  Chapter Eight

  After a trip to the bathroom—Bash had to promise me to keep a reign on Trystan from coming in with me—we finally left for the club. Trystan, Bash, and I planned to meet everyone else at the Stargazer, long before it was to open to the public. It was middle of the afternoon, on a Friday, and already the streets of Downtown Minneapolis were bustling with weekend activity; young people dressed up, giggling with friends as they went in and out of stores, guys getting ready for whatever game was going on right now, and just a general organized chaos. I wasn’t a city person but there was no place like Minneapolis at night when the buildings lit up and stretched up to the sky, and the atmosphere was palpable with a sort of neighborly feel.

  I didn’t really get to enjoy it tonight though because I was as nervous as hell about the club. My anxiety was apparent as I bobbed my leg up and down rapidly, my sweaty hands wringing in my lap, and my breathing was rapid. Trystan didn’t ask the obvious question, thankfully— “are you nervous?” He knew I was. Instead he just kept his right hand on my knee, his touch a firm and stable contrast to everything else about me that was quaking like a bridge in an earthquake zone. And, I was sure my eyes just about fell out of their sockets they widened so much, as we pulled into the small lot behind the club, right up next to Mathias’ large white Suburban and the current club manager, Lincoln Abrams’ white BMW. Trystan parked his yellow Camaro, and the noise of a large engine rumbled and assaulted our ears as Bash pulled in next to us with his fast, foreign motorcycle. He claimed he couldn’t fit in the Camaro’s backseat, and even though I offered to sit in back neither of them were having it. I think it was an excuse to take advantage of the open road and decent weather before winter set in. Hell, if I didn’t have to wear this damn skirt and look presentable I’d probably opt to ride behind him.

  Bash shot me a delectable, flirty smile as he pulled off his trademark black bandanna and aviator sunglasses he always wore when riding and shoved them into an interior pocket of his leather jacket. Before Trystan could exit the vehicle, Bash was already at my door, opening it for me and offering a hand to help me out. Not that I needed it but the sweet, kind gesture wasn’t lost on me. Gathering my black leather purse, I blushed as I slipped my hand in his, especially as his eyes roved over the cleavage poking out of the green blouse I wore. I still wasn’t quite used to all this attention from them. I loved it but still, it felt unusual.

  He tugged on my arm and pulled me into him. Despite my nervousness I relaxed slightly for just a moment, inhaling his now familiar smell of sandalwood and spicy cinnamon as I rested my cheek against his firm chest, closing my eyes briefly to listen to the comforting sound of his steady heartbeat.

  He wrapped his arms tightly around me. “I wish I didn’t have to run the bars and shit. I’d rather be out there with you.”

  I glanced up at him briefly, offering him a smile. “I know. But you won’t be back there all night, just as I won’t be stuck wandering the floors, petrified, ready to pee my pants all night,” I joked but really I was afraid it was true.

  “That’s impossible, luv,” Trystan chimed in, clasping his big hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently. Sandwiching
me with his body between himself and Bash, he rested his chin on my head after placing a light kiss just above my ear, careful not to disrupt my carefully-constructed hairstyle. Bash smirked at him from over my head.

  “And why is that impossible?” Bash asked, raising a brow.

  “She can’t pee her pants because she’s wearing a skirt.”

  “Oh dear god…” Bash slapped a hand against his forehead.

  Despite everything I snickered, daring to glance behind my shoulder. Trystan grinned impishly, and I felt a hand sneaking down over my ass, lightly spanking my buttcheek before he pulled away. “Let’s go, luvs,” he said, flashing us both a wink.

  “Insufferable bastard,” Bash groused with a hint of jest in his voice.

  Trystan was first to reach the heavy black iron door, and he was about to pull the handle when it was flung open, and Xander peeked his head out.

  “You have to go through the front!” He ordered.

  Trystan grumbled. “Och, right. I forgot.” He and Xander exchanged some sort of knowing look. I raised a suspicious brow.

  “What’s going on?” I demanded.

  “Ah, nothing. I’m sure there’s just building materials in the way,” Bash replied indifferently. “Let’s go around.”

  “If that’s the case, then how did Xander get through to open the door, then?” Neither of them answered me; Trystan grabbed my hand and Bash’s arm remained draped over my shoulders as they urged me down the block a ways, passing the alleyway where I’d watched them that night, two months or so ago take out a rogue incubus. Now that I thought about it, that was a pretty strong feat; the guys were nearly indestructible. I had no idea how they were able to take him out so easily.

  It was a totally different world to me now than it was two months ago. Back then I was just Ava Dawson… forgettable woman. Now I was Avalon Dawson, vessel of Avalon, wielder of invisibility, and girlfriend to four hot-as-sin incubi. Things could definitely be worse.

  We reached the front of the club with the newly redone neon sign reading Stargazer over the entrance. It was just simple, purple lettering, with two stars on top and bottom. The sign wasn’t necessary, but I sort of insisted upon it; something official and different to make it feel like mine.

  Xander was waiting just outside of the door, and Bash and Trystan released me, urging me forward. Xander had his sideways, shit-ass grin on his face; it made him look sexier than normal, if that was even possible. The other guys, Trystan and Bash were still dressed kind of casually, in tight tees and jeans—still gorgeous and drool-worthy, especially with the way their fitted jeans hugged their hips and asses— but Xander had taken it up a notch wearing black trousers and a blue button up shirt, the cuffs rolled up past his elbows tightly on his lithely muscular biceps. It was unbuttoned almost halfway down, part of his chest ink exposed, and his hair was carefully blow-dried and styled to the front and off to the side. Hell-fucking-o!

  “There’s that fucker, making us look bad again,” Trystan said, feigning annoyance as he nudged Bash in the arm.

  Bash snorted. “He’s been doing that to me for years. You get used to it,” he said with a good-natured laugh.

  “What?” Xander asked, glancing down at himself, holding his palms out to the side. “I didn’t want Avie to feel overdressed, especially since Bash will be behind the bar, and Mathias will be watching the bouncers.”

  I smirked, mimicking his sideway smile. “Yeah, that’s why you did it.”

  “This is why I’d rather go naked,” Trystan quipped. “Why paint the peacock?”

  Bash and I exchanged a groan. “Wrong cock, bro,” Bash said.

  “Stop!” Xander scolded, stifling a laugh. He reached out to grab my arm and spun me around until he was directly behind me.

  “The hell are you doing?” I demanded, as he blinded my sight by placing his hands over my eyes. I’d be angry, except his stormy scent seemed to be stronger than normal and it apparently was having a sedate effect on me. Damn him.

  Another hand gripped my elbow, and the large door squeaked as it opened, and I was pushed through, still blinded. “Don’t look,” Xander reprimanded, not that I could.

  “How can I see shit with your big ol’ meathooks over my face?”

  The entrance to the Stargazer was little more than a hallway, and normally there would be a large, intimidating bouncer standing at attention. I knew from frequent visits that the bathrooms were on the left side, as well as another attached room containing several pool tables, booths, and a bar alongside the wall. To the right, was the main dancefloor. And that’s exactly where I was being led. “Guys, what the hell did you do? Did you break something? Did Trystan turn into a bird and tear up the bar?”

  “Ha ha. I’d never do that. I’d toss a chair out the window, though,” Trystan retorted, and I just grumbled behind Xander’s hands.

  “Okay, you said that the paintings and what not were cheesy, and they were,” Xander said.

  “I thought you were supposed to paint over them? Just make everything a solid color, right?”

  “Hmph. I can do way better than that.” Xander removed his hands, and I instantly gasped.

  “Holy. Fucking. Shit.” I covered my gaping mouth with my palms as I took it all in.

  “It wasn’t just me, just so you know. Everyone helped,” Xander said quietly, as I held up a finger, urging his momentary silence.

  Every wall, every window was indeed painted over. But instead of black or blue paint like I had instructed, the guys went one further. Elaborate planets in solar systems, brightly, multicolored supernovas, swirling galaxies, streaking comets, and stars in purposeful patterns filled up each and every wall. “Did you paint all this? There’s no way! When I was last here couple of days ago, these walls were blank!” I asked, gently poking Xander in the chest, flushing immediately because I touched his bare skin instead of fabric; I forgot he was trying to look all GQ tonight.

  Bash snickered. “Ah, well see what you were seeing was really black paper. We’ve been doing this for a while.”

  “It’s…” I stammered, trying to find the right words. The cheesy, dirty, smelly dancefloor and paint-chipped walls were gone. Fresh, deep blue carpet lined the perimeter of the room, and several black tables with tall chairs were strategically placed, each with a long, deep blue or dark purple pendant light hanging from the ceiling, giving off black light instead of normal white. The entire dancefloor, which had been beginning to warp had been totally replaced with dark tile.

  “Check this out,” Trystan said, as he reached for something behind the bar. With a remote, he shut off the lights, and thousands of dancing white lasers twinkled over the walls in congruence with the painted stars, and the separate drawings of other space phenomena were glowing under the black lights that were installed strategically in various inconspicuous sconces along the wall.

  I gasped again in amazement. “That is so cool! How—”

  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, luv,” Trystan said, with a beaming grin. Pressing another set of buttons, colorful LED lights illuminated the floor, gently flashing in patterns.

  “If the deejay does it right, they will flash in time with the music,” Bash said, nodding towards a small stage at the opposite side of the room, with small colorful lights on poles; the rectangular outline of the stage was colored in a strip of blue and purple rope lights, as well as the bar, and around the shelves containing the various bottles of alcohol.

  “How—?” I still wasn’t finding the words. It was like walking on starlight and being in a dream in this newly revamped room.

  “Bash came up with the designs, just pages and pages of different space things,” Xander explained, “and I freehanded most of it. Some I just outlined, and Bash filled in.”

  “The easier stuff,” Bash interjected, with a chuckle. “Like the comets and the constellations. Actually—look.” He pointed to a section of wall in front of us, and I noticed clusters of different stars, faintly linked together with thin lin
es. “That was Mathias’ idea.”

  “What was?” I asked, uncertain. It was pretty, but…

  “It’s not astronomically correct, but you see each of the patterns? There’s one for each of our astrological signs.” Bash pointed at the longest pattern in the middle. “See that? That’s Aquarius; that’s yours. Pisces is Xander’s, Mathias is Cancer, Trystan is Sagittarius and I’m a Virgo,” he said, pointing to each little star cluster in turn.

  I felt my insides turn into mush. “My god…you guys!” I gushed. Xander was closest, so I threw myself at him first.

  “Do you like it?” He asked, enveloping me in his arms, squishing my cheek against his bare skin. He was warm, and firmly smooth; I shivered against him.

  “I do,” I said quietly. “But, this must have taken so much time. And why?”

  “Och, well we know you don’t have great memories here, even though this is just the top portion,” Trystan said, patting my shoulder gently and leaving his hand there. “We thought by making it prettier you wouldn’t hate being here so much.”

  “Yeah, and if you do decide to sell, it’s the right theme and should add to the value, hopefully,” Bash explained, ever the logical one. I was still squished against Xander, but he leaned over to brush his lips over my forehead anyway. Surprisingly, Xander didn’t grumble at all. Thankfully.

  “But—” I started, pulling away from them. “This must have cost a fortune. These lights!? Crap. I mean, it’s a good investment, but can I even afford it after the bathrooms and the ductwork?”

  “Yes, you can,” Mathias entered the large room, his boots clomping loudly even on the compacted pile of carpeting. “I called in a ton of favors; it’s all at cost. And when I had no favors, I resorted to good ol’ fashioned threats.” His deep brown eyes sparkled with pride, his brooding mouth quirked in a slight smile.

  I found it amusing; the two more romantic, serious men were dressed up a bit more fancily. Mathias wore a pair of black trousers, heavy black boots, a powder-blue button up shirt, straining over his muscles as usual, and a deep blue necktie around his neck, but it was loosened, and the knot hung a couple inches past his throat, several buttons undone as if he were trying to be casual; hair immaculate as usual.