Elements of Desire

by C. M. Stunich

  Being married to six elemental studs is nice … but wondering if I get to keep them, not so much.

  Elements of Desire

  Elements of Desire © 2018 C.M. Stunich and Katrina Fischer

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  For information address Sarian Royal Indie Publishing, 89365 Old Mohawk Rd, Springfield, OR 97478.

  Contact the authors at their websites

  www.cmstunich.com and www.tatejamesauthor.com

  Cover art and design © Amanda Carroll

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, businesses, or locales is coincidental and is not intended by the authors.

  this book is dedicated to perseverance.

  may we all find some to keep going!

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  “Gem Gem?” I asked, sitting down on the edge of my husbands’ bed, fluffy tulle skirts billowing up in front of my face. Wearing this damn thing was like walking around in a personal blizzard, white stuff flying everywhere. Wait. Okay, maybe it was less like a blizzard and more like an evening with the guys.

  Because, you know, like white stuff … cum.

  Sorry, I thought it was a funny joke.

  Then again, I was also on the verge of hysterics.

  “Who the fuck is Gem Gem?” I asked as I batted the fabric down and watched as Billy ripped his tie off and then literally tore his button up shirt open, sending buttons flying everywhere.

  “God, that feels so much better,” he growled, before exchanging a look with Warden and then Shane. “Well? Aren’t you going to answer the girl?”

  “The girl?” Dustin scoffed, popping the cork on some champagne and drinking directly from the bottle. “Are you bleeding mad? That’s your wife. Now, I don’t have a feckin’ clue who this Gemma lass is, but you best explain her so we can move the hell on.”

  “You called her darlin’,” I said, looking up at the dark-haired, blue-eyed beautiful Shane. The leader of the group—at least that’s how I perceived him—and someone who was supposed to have my back. He blinked down at me and opened his mouth to talk before Reg butted in with a snort.

  “When he stopped at Starbucks this morning and got you that white chocolate mocha you wanted, he called the barista darlin’. Sugar Tits,” Reg continued, kneeling down beside me and digging through the fluffy folds of dress to put his hands on my bare ass.

  No, I wasn’t wearing any underwear under that dress, just a garter belt and thigh-highs that I knew would drive the guys wild.

  “He’s Southern, babe. That’s what he does: he calls everyone darlin’.”

  “Right,” I said as Shane sat down on the bed beside me, George on the other side.

  “Talk about skeletons coming out of the closet,” Billy continued before either of the other men got a chance to explain. They all looked like they’d seen a ghost. “First this motherfucker shows up”—he gestured absently at Warden—"and then Gemma Darling does.”

  “Gemma Darling?” I choked, and then like I felt a little better because maybe that was another reason Shane called her darlin’, right? “Not only is she the hottest thing since sliced bread, but she has a cute first and last name?” I hated her already. And I tried not to do that, you know, hate on other women because that was clearly a tool of the patriarchy but … bitch. I wanted to punch her right in the tit.

  “Honestly,” George said from beside me, putting his hand on my bare knee, taking advantage of Reg having shoved my skirts all the way up. “We thought Gemma Darling was dead.”

  “Why would she be dead?” I asked as Dustin handed me the bottle of champagne and I took it gratefully, chugging down a good third of it in a few careful swallows. Not only did I, like, have commitment issues but … I’d just married six guys I didn’t really know all that well—including my long-lost ex. And then some mystery chick shows up claiming to be their real spirit elemental?!

  I was going to need a hell of a lot to drink to get through the rest of this day.

  “She was our childhood friend, Smokey,” Warden said, loosening his tie and then tossing it around Reg’s neck. “We used to play with her as a kid. Joan always said we’d end up marrying her …”

  “Eh,” Dustin snorted again, stealing the champagne bottle back from me before anyone else could grab it. “But you didn’t, did ya? You married this gobshite right here.” He pointed at me with the neck of the bottle. “So who gives two bleedin’ fucks about that girl?”

  “I think we’re all just a bit shocked?” Reg asked, raising his brows and then looking up at the mirror above my head. “We haven’t seen her in like … ten years or some shit?”

  “She’s a childhood friend,” I clarified, still not quite ready to let this mess go. After all, the bitch interrupted my wedding to announce herself as the guys’ soul mate. I mean, no matter how annoying her words were, she was full of shit; I could feel them attached to me. I could see their magic connected to that silver pool of power inside of me. “Did Joan invite her?”

  “Listen, honeycomb,” Shane said, and it made me feel better to hear that nickname. Darlin’ I could live with, but if Reg had called her Sugar Tits or something … it was a shitty nickname, granted, but it was my nickname. And anyway, I wasn’t stupid enough to negate everything the boys and I had been through because of a few uttered childhood nicknames. “We didn’t even know this girl was alive, let alone gonna be here today. What she said to you ain’t right, and we’ll let her know that. If Joan did invited her—”

  “My mom already knows she’s on thin ice,” Reg continued, hooking his thumbs under my garter belt and making a sound low in his throat, like he quite liked what he was feeling down there. “She wouldn’t have done that, I don’t think.”

  “They were wearing the same outfit,” I hedged. Because, well, who else knew where to get head-to-toe khaki other than Joan Copthorne?

  “That’s a good point,” Warden said, letting me take another sip of champagne before stealing the bottle for himself. I could almost forgive him for calling this Gemma chick Gem Gem because he did have nicknames for Britt, too. He was just that kind of person. He was also, you know, mine. But then, it’d been Billy who’d actually said it. “Shall we go find out?”

  Reg frowned, ruffling up his slicked back blonde hair with his fingers. Shane had fixed it for him while he whinged and bitched the entire time. Within a matter of seconds, it was ruined. And totally and completely cute.

  “Find out?” he asked, tossing the voluminous puff of my dress over his head. “I thought we were going to fuck?” He went straight for the gold and I shoved the skirts back down in front of his face, cutting him off.

  “You were going to get a fuck,” I said with a sniff, “but now I need to go find both Joan and Gemma and punch some tits.” I pushed Reg away and stood up, glancing around at my new husbands.

  This was my wedding day, and I wasn’t about to let some random ghost from the boys’ past ruin it.

  No fucking way.

  When I found Joan and Gemma fucking Darling, they were sitting in two uncomfortable looking chairs sipping champagne and laughing like long-lost fucking lovers. No prizes for guessing who was behind the mysterious Gem Gem's reappearance then.

  "Joan," I sneered, with all the emphasis I could muster
without actually spitting on the woman. Her name was still a placeholder for what I really wanted to call her and it made me feel a tiny bit better, even if she didn't get it.

  "Oh, Arizona dear." She smiled at me like a goddamn fucking shark. "I don't think you and Gemma had a chance to be properly introduced? You stormed out of the ceremony in such a huff. Very unbecoming of a lady, I might add."

  Shane laid a hand on my arm while my teeth ground together hard enough that the guys around me probably heard them.

  "Gemma." I smiled tightly at the lying whore who was trying to lay claim to my men. "I don't believe you were invited. So sorry, there's no space here."

  Gemma coughed an outraged laugh, looking around the enormous ballroom which was currently set up in a cocktail style and honestly, had plenty of room for at least fifty gatecrashers.

  "Arizona!" My new mother-in-law scolded. "You're being awfully rude. If you must know, I invited Gemma myself. She was such a good friend to the boys when they were younger I thought it might be a nice surprise."

  My glare swung from Gemma fucking Darling back to Joan, and she literally clutched her pearls at whatever she saw in my face. Of course Joan would be wearing pearls.

  Reg groaned beside me, and his mother paled.

  "You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you Mom?" he demanded, placing a possessive hand on my waist. "You just had to try and fuck it all up for Ari and us. Well, newsflash Mom, we're done with this. After this reception is over, we're moving into Ari's house."

  Joan gasped, like Reg had just said we were moving to Siberia to become penguins or something, and she clutched at her pearls tighter.

  "I can't let you do that, Reggie," Gemma fucking Darling said in a voice like a damn siren. Fuck her for being so perfect. "You're all my rightful sept and I won't leave here until this impostor is dealt with."

  A low dragon-like growl bubbled from my throat and I acted on instinct, my curled fist flying out and punching that bitch straight in the tit. I had good aim too! Seeing as her ridiculous khaki top was thin enough that I could see the outline of her nipples, I managed to nail Gemma dead center and she howled.

  "Darlin'," Shane groaned, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me back before I could follow up with a slap or a hair pull or … something. Hey, ninja I was not. I just did what came naturally to me.

  "Don't call me that," I snarled, spinning to point in his face. My massive tulle skirts twirled with me and knocked a glass of champagne off a small table and shattered it. I didn't care. My wedding was being ruined! "That's what you called her."

  "I apologize, Honey Dove." Shane held his hands up defensively, flicking his eyes at Warden and then back to me. "Maybe we can all step outside for a breath of air? I see Dustin's daddy is out there and he’ll want to congratulate us."

  "Huh," Dustin grunted, drawing my attention to the odd, sort of confused look on his face. "What the feck is that old bastard doing here?"

  I frowned. "Um, he's your dad?"

  Behind me, Gemma groaned and cried in pain as she clutched her tit dramatically and Joan fussed over her. So pathetic, I didn't hit her that hard.

  "Aye, but the geezer disowned me years back. I canna see why he'd be here unless he wants something from me." Dustin narrowed those cruel green eyes of his in the direction of where is father stood with a collection of COCS (Committee of Combined Supernaturals) members.

  "I'm feeling punchy, you want to find out?" I offered, grinning up at Dusty with a toothy shark smile of my own. My asshole, red-haired husband grinned back at me and his eyes flickered with menace. Damn if it didn't make my nipples harden.

  "I would love that, wifey," he agreed, holding out his arm for me to take like we were at an elegant ball or something. "These boys can take the trash out while we're gone."

  Joan spluttered something in outrage, but Reg cut her off.

  "Save it, Mom," he snapped, but I didn't hear the rest of what he said as I took Dustin's arm and let him lead me away from the little homewrecker and my slimy mother-in-law.

  "If it helps, Lucky Charms," Dustin muttered quietly as we wove our way through the elegantly dressed guests, nodding and smiling where appropriate, "she looks like she'd be a right bloody bore in the sack."

  Against my anger, a laugh bubbled out of me and I wrinkled my nose at him. "What, you mean you don't like girls with sticks up their asses?"

  "Ahhh, my little leprechaun. The only stick I wanna see in your fine ass, is my own." He winked at me then crooked a smile. "Or I guess one of these other wankers … I'd happily see one of their sticks up your ass while you strangle mine with that quicksand vagina of yours."

  He didn't even try to say that last bit quietly and the woman we had just been walking past choked on her champagne a little, causing her companion to pat her heavily on the back.

  "So sorry," I apologized, not really feeling in the least bit apologetic. I didn't know these people, they were Joan's guests, so what did I care if they overheard my new husband talking about double snaking my drains?

  Shit. Now I'm turned on as fuck and about to make polite conversation with Dustin's dad.

  My eyes narrowed at him, and I suspected that had been his intention all along.

  Bloody Bastard.

  "Larry," Dustin said, scowling in that way of his. It both infuriated me and like, made me want to jump his bones, too. There was something hot about the way he lifted in his chin in haughty arrogance, throwing his fingers through his red hair. "The bleedin’ hell you want, old man?"

  "Is that any way to talk to your father?" the red-haired man asked, substantially shorter and thinner than his son. Fuck, it looked like Dustin could pick his dad up and snap him in half.

  The smaller, slighter man ran his hands down the front of his perfect suit and sniffed derisively, giving me a scathing sort of glance, like I was some gold digging skank. Eh, it was a look I was getting used to. You know, after Joan and Gem and all that … My hand shot up of its own accord, palm headed straight for Larry's nose.

  Really, it was a gut reaction to want to break his nose.

  Dustin snagged my wrist in mid-air and held it still.

  Larry raised a red brow, but clearly he didn't really know I was about to try to mess up his perfect face because he just adjusted his tie and looked up at me. Yes, up. I was at least three inches taller than him. Maybe four. How the fuck did this guy sire a beast like Dustin MacKenna?

  "You disowned me a long time ago, so what the hell is it you want?" Dustin asked again, pulling me close and squishing the fluffy poof of my dress against his side. I should've gotten a second dress for the reception, but Joan wanted me to have one so badly, I'd resisted.

  Crap.

  I was going to regret this frothy princess dress by the end of the night, wasn't I?

  "It's time to mend burnt bridges, son," the man said. The eerie part about the whole encounter was the fact that Larry looked to be about the same age as his child. "You might have access to your inheritance regardless of my opinion"—Larry sniffed and cast his green eyes over to me—"but having the Metal Clan here to help with the war between COCS and CUM is vital."

  "Nah, we don't need you," Dustin said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We got ASS on our side."

  "ASS?" I asked, because like, really? Was there a group out there called TITS, too? How about CUNT?

  Dustin turned his burning green gaze down to mine, making my stomach clench with desire. Just looking at the man was a treat to my overhyped libido.

  "Association of Silver Soldiers," he said, and then flashed me a big, bright grin. "For-hire mercenaries, Metallics but without the red tape and political bullshit."

  "You're going to waste your inheritance on soldiers who have no loyalty?" Larry asked as I tore my gaze from Dustin and looked between the two men. "There is a war brewing, son. This isn't something you can throw money at and watch it go away."

  "It's not? Well, I must be bleeding mad then. All you've done my whole life is throw m
oney at things until they disappeared. Seemed to work alright for you?"

  Dustin's father bristled with anger as it finally—finally—sunk into my dense sensibilities.

  Looked at me like a gold digger …

  Access to your inheritance …

  Throw money at things …

  Oh my God. Dustin was not a bum. He wasn't a bum. HE WASN'T A BUM!

  "No more scrubs for Ari!" I shouted, throwing both arms up and then pausing when both men looked at me like I was insane. Dustin blinked and then smirked, a dark lust burning in his eyes as he took in my white-clad form.

  "A war," Dustin said as he snaked his arm around my waist again. "You make a mistake in thinking I care much about that. I'll hire ASS and have them protect my new bride. COCS can figure out their own shit."

  My newest husband—like, literally now, right? how weird was that?—dragged me away from his father.

  "It's her parents leading this war, son," Larry called out, drawing the attention of the entire reception party our way. "Don't you think she ought to fight on our side?"

  "We don't owe you or anyone else shite," Dustin said, raising his voice as the others caught up with us. When I glanced back at my husbands, I saw Gemma Darling smirking in the background behind them, eyes shimmering with triumph.

  Her threat … it wasn't an empty one.

  She either really thought she was the boys' spirit elemental … or she intended to steal them from me.

  "Are you really going to hire ASS?" Reg asked so loudly that several people snapped their heads over to glare at us. I swear I heard one woman mutter something about men and hookers. My blonde hubby met her eyes, smirked, and ran his tongue over his lower lip as she gasped and clutched at the string of pearls around her neck.

  Heh.

  If she only knew how dirty my story really was. Dirty enough that say, if someone were a pearl-clutcher or jealous of all the D I was getting, they could seriously get my life story moved from the romance genre to the erotica one.