Blood, Cupcakes and Wicked Business (Grimstone Island)

by Rochelle Pearson

  Although, she steers clear of the back room—it’s tight with security. Behind the vault, an employee is needed to access the storage of human blood for those drinkers. No fret, the blood is shipped legally to the island. Still, Veronica doesn't care to know how or from where.

  Last feeding was earlier this morning, besides polishing Sera’s jellied treats, Mona had gifted a granola bar containing dried cranberries and hardened mixed yogurt and aardvark blood on top. The damn crunchy rectangle lacked excitement, but she appreciated it.

  Fifteen minutes passed by and she’d given the computer and papers in front of her the finger and spun circles in her chair, staring at the ceiling. She had half a mind to just leave. Did he know I was still here—

  Vzzt. Her phone vibrated. A new text received from, oh, lookie who, Boss Man himself.

  >Dinner. Growling Grill. Conference room. C wing.

  Veronica’s fangs ached for meat. The Growling Grill, run by a family of werewolves, is notorious for providing extra-extra rare steaks—one of the many things she was happy to find out upon the move. On the way home, if she ever left, she was definitely picking up a few. Surely, he wouldn't need her to stay after he gets his dinner. Optimistic he would send her off soon, Veronica placed an order for his usual, a BBQ chicken lettuce wrap and a side salad, and relayed the floor number. Just as she doesn’t follow a typical vampire diet, neither does Keeland follow an Elven diet of being vegan. It’s cute. He probably thinks lettuce wrapping poultry and adding the salad is compensation enough. Stuffing her work cell, tablet, and notebook planner in the expensive red leather tote, a delightful splurge after receiving the assistant’s job, she powered down the computer, shut off the lights, then waited at the front desk for the Grill’s delivery person to come up on the elevator.

  Their service and food is stellar, and the restaurant isn’t located that far from the office. Always a good thing to eat food from a wolf. They know how meat should be cooked and get it done quickly, with excellent precision.

  Soon a ding sounded, announcing the elevator’s arrival.

  “Hi there!” A small, bubbly blonde woman, a wolf of course, bounced out of the car, takeout bag in hand. Her name tag read: Kokoa.

  “Hello,” Veronica passed her the cash, tip included, as the woman handed her the delicious-smelling package. “Thank you,” The little wolf, Kokoa, gazed around the stark white room. She whistled, impressed.

  “Swanky. This place is so awesome. I love coming here.” Her purple eyes darted in every direction. “It’s bitchin’. Don’t you agree?”

  “Absolutely. Plus, I’m sure the developers had on the blueprints for The Tower to be bitchin’.” Veronica smiled. Kokoa’s hyper, youthful self always stunned her each time she’d drop off food. The charade always made the she-vamp laugh.

  “You’re all right.” Kokoa winked. People like her, who make it easy to laugh with them, was a reminder that Veronica’s decision to stick it through living in Grimstone was a great one. It kinda makes all the disturbing fuckery she endured for centuries worth it.

  Kinda.

  * * *

  Veronica hit top speed to C wing, arriving in milliseconds. She was eager for her own dinner and a bubble bath. The smaller conference room sat in the farthest corner of our floor. It was rarely used. Determination had her bypassing a polite knock and just zooming in. Hunched over a scatter of papers, pen poised, Keeland hadn’t paid any mind.

  “Here you go.” She set the bag on the beige table, smiling brightly, hands clasped. The spitting image of a woman who was ready to go. Clear indicators: tote and purse on shoulder. Blazer slung over an arm. Body slowly retreating to the door...Hell, did I need to get my car keys out and jingle them in his face to prove more?

  “Will that be all?” she asked. Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.

  He had forgone his own jacket, draped carelessly on the seat next to him, revealing a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled, and muscular, vein-protruding, arms. Fuckity, holy, Gods, the man was ripped. Veronica pictured the material splitting at the seams with any sudden movement, exposing bulging muscles.

  Okay, so I’m not sure I’m particularly hungry for food any more...

  Chapter Seven

  One look at the food bag and the vampire inching towards the door, Keeland knew he failed. How could she think any more of his simple text message? Who would deduce from the bland, straightforward words he really meant he’d like for her to join for dinner? Oh, maybe it’s because the billion things in his head—things he wanted to be very blunt about when it comes to this woman—but never actually had the balls to put it out there.

  See? Tailspin. Haywire. Hurricane.

  “Sit.” he said sharply. As expected, anger flashed across her face. Keeland reclined, tossing the pen and grabbed his phone. The fuming vampire harshly wrenched out the chair parallel to his across the table and carelessly, dropped her purse to the floor. Keeland swallowed hard, feeling guilty, other parts of him grew hard upon her crossing her arms, pushing up her large breasts, cleavage forming a deep V.

  “You’re welcome for the dinner,” she said, dripping in venom. Her leg bobbed impatiently. Obviously mad and he was keeping her from something.

  Well, he never cared about the personal lives of employees. Not in an insensitive way, it was just none of his business on the personal details. But Veronica... he wanted to know everything.

  “Am I keeping you from an evening activity?”

  “Unless Merlot counts.” she mumbled. “Not really,”

  “Good. But I assume I am interrupting feeding hour for you—which I hadn’t made clear that I wanted... us to share.” He’s sweating. It’s true. He willed to keep eye contact. Don’t break. Don’t lose her.

  She blinked.

  And blinked some more.

  He scrolled to the number of The Growling Grill and clicked Call. “Quick, I have the restaurant on the line. What would you like?”

  It was a dozen times she opened and closed her mouth in rapid fashion, words never releasing. He winced at her shocked and confused expressions. Wow, she can’t determine what my endgame is here. I’m that bad.

  That would change soon.

  Then she smiled.

  * * *

  Fascinating. Her hearty appetite turned him on. She inhaled the slab of severely undercooked chunk of still mooing filet mignon and a baked potato loaded with blood butter in under seven minutes. He counted. Guilty again, this time for depriving her. Though he knew she longed for Merlot, the bottle of sparkling lamb’s blood he found in the break room sufficed. He’d taken a few bites of the salad before switching their light conversation off work, something he needed a break from, to uncharted territory.

  “I see we don’t stick to formalities where names are concerned anymore, Veronica.” he smirked. She blushed beautifully, smirking as well.

  “Yes, Keeland.” She took a swig of her drink.

  “I’d like to know, Veronica...” Damn I loved the way those four syllables rolled off my tongue. What else, involving her, could he savor? “Do you live nearby?” Another point was deducted. The simple information was readily available in her file. He should’ve known. Thankfully, she hadn’t caught that and answered.

  “Exiting Hallow Circle, my complex is the third one to the left. Bat Screech Housing.”

  Her building is right next door to his.

  We could have been carpooling this whole fucking time.

  Hallow Circle is the equivalent of what humans would call town square. The heartbeat of Grimstone, Adela, the tree of magic—pumping life into the island—stands rooted in the center of Hallow Circle, just yards from the entrance of The Tower.

  “Tell me about your family,” he abruptly said.

  “Not much to say.” She shrugged, vacant of emotion. “I lived in Romania up till recently. Working for my father, who ran the human and undead government there...” She glanced away, gnawing her lip.

  She
offered nothing else. Hmm. Could it be that Veronica had endured a suck-ass life with her father, then unknowingly begun working for another asshole?

  Gods, light my balls on fire. If that’s true, then Keeland ranked high on the Idiot Scale than before. Thankfully, not that much time had flowed under their feet. Still, he kicked myself for not extending the olive branch sooner. It’s a wonder she continues to think waking up every morning to work for me is still a good idea.

  The crass remarks.

  The dictator persona.

  The fucking sandwich thrown on the floor a few days ago because she forgot to have extra pickles added. Seriously, he can live without three measly pickles. All of his actions are inexcusable. All self-imposed. All that could’ve been prevented by simply reading the bottom line that he’s just a person and not a work-machine-god that has no filter or regard for others. From here on out, the role of asshole is no longer his.

  “I’d rather hear about your family, if you don’t mind.” She smiled. I don’t deserve that smile. Wide, not in the least taking the spotlight away from her plump lips. Gleaming fangs winked at him.

  “Let’s see—well, first off, I only have one relative living on the island.”

  “Aw, I’m so sorry.” She frowned.

  “Oh, no, they’re not dead!” he assured. “No, my parents, grandparents, everyone prefers to live on the Elwood birth lands in Canada.” It’s common knowledge about his great-great-you get it-grandmother, Oakla being a founder. Yet Keeland forgot Veronica only been resided in Grimstone for two months. Something about her wide eyes and eagerness, wanting to know more, expressed she wasn’t privy to the happenings of supernaturals in the world—mainly Grimstone’s—a big part in sup history. Because of her family? Possibly. An uneasy feeling pitted his stomach. He told her about Oakla, and soothed an aching stomach by talking about the other Elwood running rampant in town. His younger sister, Piper.

  “Tattoo artist, huh?”

  He nodded. “Certified, and extremely talented. She’s twenty-three.”

  Veronica whistled low. “Damn. She’s just a baby.”

  That caused a chuckle. “Eh, more like a hazardous baby, trapped in a grown woman’s body.” The relationship between him and Piper is strong, despite their major age difference. She can get buck wild, but she’s tough and smart enough to untie the difficult knots she gets in, earning his respect and fear of her self-reliance. For instance, she used her own money to bail herself out of jail when she vandalized a cop car. No crawling to big bro for help. He gladly would have, though is glad she’s good on her own.

  “How do your parents feel about you two being here?” Veronica asked.

  “They’re cool with it. They have at least a couple hundred other offsprings. They can’t waste that much time harping on one of our lives. It wouldn’t be fair to the rest.” That made her laugh and snort adorably. Do it again, please?

  “All those kids,” she mused, propping a knuckle under her chin. “How does your mother do it?”

  Keeland shrugged. “Being who she is. No matter how many more additions to the family, not a single child is neglected. It helps to have tons of uncles and aunts for coddling. And my father, the best damn man, is always by her side. My mother is a goddess in all sense of the word.” He found himself easily pouring this out to Veronica. So welcoming, inviting, he couldn’t stop the dam she broke within. “She’s a fairy.”

  “Oh, so you’re a hybrid?”

  “Every Elwood is. I’m sure some of my brothers are creating more with the mixture by having children with other supernatural women. Last I heard, Clayton, the only sibling who’s close in age, recently married a cougar and is now expecting twins.”

  “Cougar shifter? Or cougar—as in an older woman?” she wondered, grinning madly. He had worded that off on purpose and winked, causing her to throw her head back, releasing bouts of laughter. Keeland’s cheeks burned from joining along and smiling so damn much.

  She cocked a brow. “Show me your wings, Boss Man.”

  Boss Man. Shit. His cock jumped. “Since you asked so nicely.” So sexy, with your saucy tone and mischievous eyes. Standing, he began unbuttoning his shirt. He was on autopilot, letting the old Keeland take over. The flirt. The daring one. The show-off.

  Veronica wet her lips, completely fixated on the length of the tall man, stopping at the outline of his dick, where he hadn’t cared to conceal a hard-on.

  Her little jaw slightly dropped. She licked her bottom lip again, however slower. His breath hitched. She wants me as much as I want her.

  Was that true?

  He got to his navel, then confessed, putting an end to their torture. “I don’t have wings.”

  “You ass!” She launched a napkin ball at his chest. “How dare you build the suspense!”

  He collapsed in the chair, laughing and clapping. “Sorry. Well, not really. Only my sisters are born with wings. Just the female child of hybrid parents has such.”

  “Shame.” Shaking her head, she scrunched her nose. Another write-in to The Book of Adorable Things Veronica Does.

  “Why?”

  “It would’ve been nice to envision your pretty, twinkling wings behind your angry face at the next staff meeting.”

  “Wicked woman.” He shot the napkin right back at her.

  “I’m here all night.” She bowed.

  It’s official.

  Veronica Ardelean makes me happy. She tapped into the very man that went underground long ago.

  Focus on Resurrect can remain untouched, being a badass behind a desk still intact, all while embracing this revived individual. He boldly captured her heeled feet between larger loafers. Her eyes hooded. He could be playful too.

  I can be better. I can be selfless and give her a part... no, all of me.

  Chapter Eight

  I’m enjoying this way too much. I don’t want to leave.

  This is not a dream, folks, Veronica thought. Who would’ve thought she could be anything more than lukewarm irritated with Keeland Elwood?

  My freaking boss, who just strip teased for me!

  She’s... fond... of him. Yeah, alert the media. Make note, she never hated him, though. What person would stay in her shoes if they couldn’t, one hundred percent, tolerate their employer? She doesn’t dislike him either. Keeland is a take-him-in-stride type of person.

  Personal assessment now changed, she misfired by pegging his hard-ass attitude to being a 24/7 thing. A stressing job can warp a person’s true nature. Turns out, he’s a softie underneath that iron-pressed suit.

  A big one behind trousers...

  Holy. Fuck. Cue dramatic waving of a fan. Someone send for new panties. He’s colossal.

  And there she went—licking her lips like a starving hyena eyeing a lonely zebra—thinking of his cock. Keeland’s. Not the zebra.

  Okay, let me just get this out of my system...

  Big dick.

  Monster pecker.

  Ginormous cock.

  God of wieners.

  Eighth wonder of the world.

  All right, I’m good.

  She liked his perfect face, crinkle with laughter when talking about his sister. Veronica envied him, barley knowing her siblings, brothers—oops, I mean, the faceless men who looked down at me for hundreds of years.

  Keeland is certainly a shock to the system. It was unbelieving he wanted to eat together. Steak in a conference room actually beats dining alone in a bathtub. Yes, she had planned to chomp on a steak while naked in a vat of rose-scented bubbles.

  Is this really the same gorgeous man she met on day one, who had said when Mona introduced them, “Hello, Miss Ardelean. We keep boxes for office clean-out in the supply room down the hall when you’re ready to quit.”

  Her reply was a simple smile, a cool play off while thinking Well, hello to you, too, fuckwad.

  She shook her head and moved back to pleasant topics.

  "What is your free time like?" After a beat she added, "Really, what do
you when you've had three seconds to breathe from the job?"

  "You, first."

  Always, in charge.

  After expressing her love of her friend Seraphina’s culinary creations, Veronica went on, “Strolling through busy parts of Grimstone, I love the mass of people thriving on life.” Her voice captured a wistful lilt while talking.

  “I’m happy you’re settling. Grimstone is truly an exceptional place to live.”

  He’s terribly biased, but Veronica still smiled. He’s right, regardless. “I’ve managed to begin light reading here and there.”

  “I read,” Keeland said. “In the birth lands, Oakla hordes all fae ancient text. Whenever she’s feeling generous, she’ll send me a few textbooks.” He went on about owning a collection of other sup’s interpretation of his kind.

  “Not to sound rude, but why do you care about what others thought of your kind?”

  He thought it interesting. “And the texts I own aren’t authored by misinformed amateurs who only like to publish controversial nonsense for a quick buck. The authors I read come highly regarded, and have been since the dawn of supernatural existence. Their works are memorialized and to be taken seriously. Especially the records on what my people were like to other supernaturals; how their magic was seen, and their contribution in history. The, um...” Keeland stopped and smiled, apologetically. Too caught in his own words, Veronica deduced he thought himself a nerdy chatterbox.

  For no good reason. Hell, she was sucked in. “Please, go on,” she rushed to say.

  She was seriously liking the man in front of her.

  This new to her–real–side of him.

  Keeland explained that those golden passages held the tellings of fae’s interactions with other supernaturals, the author’s first hand encounters with known and minor fae or vice versa. Fae migrations and settlements and impacts around the world. Keeland was fascinated with how different fae breeds lived and why in human lands. But then again, his folk are cruel and mischief hungry and the humans are simply easy and gullible.