Elements of Desire

by C. M. Stunich

  "Aye. Why the bloody hell not?" Dustin said as he flipped the burgundy book of his Irish passport open and flashed me a bajillion stamps. We were at the airport, scheduled to fly from JFK to LAX to BNE (Brisbane, my American friends) and then had plans to road trip to Tamborine Mountain to meet my mom.

  Like, my REAL mom, not one of those shitty murdering bio moms. My dad—again, REAL dad not fucked-up bio dad Daniel—had originally planned to fly in, too. He’d promised not to fight with mum during the trip, buuuuuuut ... I’d had a feeling this honeymoon was going to suck some serious balls with just Mom so we’d rescheduled with Dad.

  Well, no matter how bad it got, I knew that personally, I was going to be sucking some serious balls. We'd just gotten married and I hadn't had a wedding night ... Like, I knew we were spending the night at LAX so I'd probably get some good lovin', but that was still over six hours away ...

  "Soldiers-for-hire to protect my new wife and her collection of dick?" Dustin asked loudly, sending the pearl-clutcher storming off with a huff. "I'd do anything."

  My throat tightened and my heart thumped painfully as Dustin handed over my ticket. I was used to seeing my boarding class be like Z or some shit, like literally the LAST person let on the plane and even then, only grudgingly.

  But this? This was first class?! THE FUCK!?

  "Here." Dustin handed over tickets to my other men.

  "Whoa. Why the fuck do we get super saver economy class when you guys get first class?" Warden asked, his USA passport clutched in one hand, his beautiful hazel eyes bugging out of his head. "Bro, aren't you rich as hell? You said you'd take care of the tickets."

  Dustin threw his head back in raucous laughter and then tossed more tickets at the other boys—first class ones this time.

  "Gotcha!" he chortled, and I raised my brows.

  Wow.

  He like, literally, bought five economy tickets to LAX as a joke?

  Dustin was fucking loaded.

  And now ... he was mine.

  "Yeah, I see that look in yer eyes, my little lucky charm," Dustin murmured in my ear as he wrapped his arms around me from behind. "You can thank me on yer knees in the cludgie once we're a mile high."

  As much as I wanted to say something snappy and defensive, the idea of joining the Mile High Club in first class was turning my taps on in a big way. So all I managed was an over-sexualized groan as we followed the rest of the guys forward in the line to board.

  "I call shotgun on sitting next to Sugar Tits," Reg shouted, and Dustin's chuckle vibrated against my back.

  "Don't fly much, do ya Reggie?" he teased. "They're assigned seats. No switching. It's against federal aviation rules."

  "Fucking what?" Reg snatched our tickets from our hands and examined the seat numbers. "So you get to sit next to her? What happened to not really being into all of this? You said you didn't believe in soulmates and then you said—"

  "I changed my mind." Dustin cut Reg off with a snarl that had me craning my neck to look at him. "Leave it be. Leprechaun, hand the lady yer ticket."

  We had reached the front of the line, so I stored that one in the back of my mind for later. Right now, I wanted to enjoy every second of my honeymoon with my six husbands. Like … husbands for real now. Even though in the eyes of the supernatural community we'd been ‘married’ since the marking ceremony—it was either that or die for being a shimmer—now we'd actually filed paperwork and done the poofy white dress.

  It was going to be perfect, starting with—squeal—first class seats!

  Nothing could ruin this for me now.

  Nothing.

  "Welcome aboard, Ms. Smoke," the attendant greeted me, "your seat is to the left."

  I nodded politely back at her and wandered up the aisle, reading seat numbers until I reached mine, 2C. In the seat directly beside me was Dustin—of course—and in the seat across the aisle …

  "Oh, hello. Funny seeing you here," Gemma fucking Darling grinned, batting her heavy lashes and sipping a glass of champagne.

  "Fuck. No." My jaw felt like it had dropped so far it hit the floor, and my fists curled.

  "Honey Babe," Shane said, stepping between Gemma and me, blocking my view of her infuriating face and stroking a hand down my arm. "You can't hit people on planes or you get thrown off. And then we all gotta honeymoon in Cleveland or something."

  "Shane!" I protested in a strangled voice. "She's stalking us now!"

  "Oh, don't be so dramatic," that fucking bitch said, leaning around Shane to sneer at me. "I'm not stalking you. It's a free world and I happened to be in the mood to visit Mount Maracas."

  "It's Tamborine Mountain, you ignorant bitch," I snarled, my temper rising so hot I felt like I was breathing fire from my nose.

  "Billy?" Shane called, and then quickly switched places with my leather jacket wearing fire elemental husband.

  "Firebug, babe. Calm the fuck down or you'll set the plane on fire. Or create your very own shimmer … and seeing as you're already married to us that could get downright messy, don't you think?" He raised an eyebrow at me and I got lost for a moment in the burning coal of his eyes. Fuck, he was hot. I wondered if he'd teach me karate sometime … I'd be all for a bit of hands-on tutoring.

  Damn it Ari, focus! Gemma fucking Darling is on your damn honeymoon!

  "Look, you wee feckers. Now or never. Do you wanna get off and try again another time?" Dustin asked in a bored sounding tone of voice, but I felt a pang of guilt. He'd already paid for seven first class tickets and five economy tickets. I couldn't ask him to throw it all away and start again another day.

  "No." I shook my head firmly. "No, this is my honeymoon and I'm not changing it for a shithead like her."

  "Aye then. Sit in yer seat and buckle up. I'll show you all the cool features." Dustin narrowed his emerald green eyes at me in challenge. Was I really going to let it go and ignore her? My fists were still clenched tight and Billy's hand was on my arm, undoubtedly controlling my fire magic from outing us.

  Nodding sharply, I sat down and clipped together my safety belt. Careful to keep my back to the offensive bitch across the aisle, I turned to my Irish sex god. I mean … my husband.

  "Cool features?" I asked, and he grinned.

  "Watch here.” He pushed a button, and the little divider screen between our seats dropped away so there was no longer any obstruction between us. "Now when we recline our seats to beds, there won't be anything stopping me from copping a feel, eh?"

  Wide-eyed, I stared at him a moment in shock.

  "The seats recline to beds?" I hissed in amazement, grabbing the little handheld remote out of my own console and inspecting all the buttons. "I'm never flying coach again."

  Full of excitement once more, and determined to forget the pathetic stage-five clinger that was Gemma, I unclipped my belt again and turned onto my knees to look at who was behind me. Billy and George.

  "How cool is this?" I whispered to them, and they both smiled indulgently at me. Damn men, I bet they'd all flown first class a million times before, given how cashed-up Joan and Charlie were.

  Joan. Ugh, that hadn't ended well after our wedding reception. I guessed I should have been thankful it was only Gemma here and not …

  "Mom?" Reg blurted out, standing from his seat and intercepting the familiar khaki-clad woman who had just entered the small cabin. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "Reg, dear." She smiled like a damn piranha. "What a surprise! I had no idea you would be on this flight. My darling Gemma asked if I'd like to take a little vacation to clear our heads of all that awful nastiness at your wedding."

  "Oh, fuck off," I scoffed, and her gaze swung to me with a sharp glare, before smoothing out into fake nice.

  "Arizona, how lovely to see you again, darling," she said in a voice so sweet it could rot teeth. "What a crazy coincidence we're all here together, hmm?"

  "I'll show you a crazy coincidence when my fist meets your cun—" My threat was cut-off by the bing bong of the
flight attendants about to make an announcement.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, the cabin doors are now closed. We ask that you all take your seats as we prepare for departure." The polite woman's voice carried through the speakers, and I scowled at Joan. Fucking Joan.

  "Mother," Reg started, but was interrupted by one of the flight crew ushering us all into our seats for take-off.

  Not going to let them ruin my honeymoon. Nope. No way. This is going to be the best honeymoon ever.

  "Seriously though?" I whispered to Dustin as a flight attendant took up the front of the aisle and started going through the safety steps along with a stupid video on the headrest in front of me. It had kangaroos in it! Like, how the hell were kangaroos relevant to flight safety?!

  And then it got really weird there when they showed an animated video about not using the rear doors in a water landing, cause like the engines literally made the water boil. The kangaroo didn't listen and got cooked. Literally cooked. Not a very comforting short film, I had to say.

  "Some people are scum, Arizona," Dustin said, his voice loud enough to carry over the cartoon kangaroo's violent screams. His green eyes sparkled mischievously as he flicked a glance over my shoulder and smirked at Gemma and Joan. "They don't know when they're not wanted or how to leave somethin' well enough alone." He paused and flicked his eyes to the ceiling for a moment before dropping them back to me. "If I had to guess, I'd say I have about t'ree times"—you hear that, t'ree instead of three, how sexy was that accent?—”more in the bank than the Copthornes."

  "Money in the bank isn't everything! There are shares and bonds and real estate assets to consider!" my mother-in-law called out, clearly listening in on the conversation.

  "So I figure that's why she liked me before." Dustin reached out and traced a tattooed finger down my arm, making me shiver. I couldn't look away from his mouth. There was something … sordid about the shape of it that made my cunt clench in anticipation. "And I let her think I liked her so I could win your hand in marriage, but this?"

  He narrowed his eyes and smiled in a way that could only be described as … evil? Okay, delightfully evil but still.

  "She's as good as dead to me now. You just settle that pretty little arse back and watch how I destroy people that bother me."

  "Don't be like that, Dustin," Joan scolded, but I had a feeling that this was a man that soured easily and didn't come back from it.

  Fuck, I liked him.

  Pretty good thing, that, considering I'd just married the guy, huh?

  I had to say, threatening my mother-in-law made me feel such strongly amorous feelings toward him that I found myself gazing. Shit, I probably had sparkles in my green eyes.

  "Hey babe," Reg called out from two rows behind us, drawing my attention to his hands raised in the air. He drew me a heart, making one half with each of his pointer fingers and ending at the point on the bottom.

  I imagined that was his way of apologizing for his mom? I sure hoped so. I mean, I didn't hold Joan's borderline personality disorder/obsessive compulsive disorder/general bitchiness against him, but I still wasn't quite sure what to make of Gemma.

  Well, I knew what to make of Gemma herself—frankly, I wanted her dead—but I didn't know how to feel about the boys and their connection to her. If they had a missing childhood friend, shouldn't they have told me about it? And also, if she'd been missing all these years, then how the fuck did Joan just happen to get a hold of her/invite her to my damn wedding?!

  Something smelled fishy—and it wasn't me, I hadn't even had my wedding night yet. No, maybe Gemma had like, a yeast infection or something. Bitch.

  "I appreciate you declaring war on my enemies," I said, sniffing and crossing my arms under my tits. Predictably, Dusty's eyes dropped right to them. Even though we were flying and I normally would've worn a baggy old tee and some pilling sweats, I'd gone real classy today. I had on a tight black bandage dress and knee-high boots. Sitting here in the seat, the damn fabric was riding dangerously up my thighs. Pretty sure I was this close to flashing a bit of those hot red knickers I'd worn underneath.

  It was my wedding day for fuck's sake. As impractical as my outfit was, I wanted to look hot. Nothing wrong with that, right?

  "After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend," I continued, raising a brow at Dustin. He smirked back at me, like he could tell how aroused I was getting by his promises to make Joan suffer. Mmm. Yes. Make that bitch paaaaaay.

  "Your friend, eh?" he asked, as my eyes widened and I slapped out a hand to clench his. We were moving down the runway and my stomach was now lodged in my throat.

  "God, I hate this part," I choked out as I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair, doing my best to ignore Gemma's velvety chuckles from the seat next to mine. As I waited for that horrific stomach lurching sensation of taking off, I prayed to whatever gods would listen that the flight attendant smacked Gem in the arm with that stupid drink cart. Then again, we were in first class so we probably wouldn't be treated like usual airline customers—i.e., complete and total dirt.

  "You afraid of heights there, little gobshite?" Dustin purred as George leaned forward and wrapped his fingers around my bicep. I could tell it was him from the gentle earthiness of his touch.

  "I'm not afraid of heights," I choked out as I tried not to puke. The plane was lifting up and leaving my stomach on the runway behind it. God, I hated that feeling. "I'm afraid of boiled kangaroo meat."

  Dustin laughed, so loud and raucous that I had to crack one eye and peer at him.

  "What?" I asked, but he just shook his head and crossed bulging arms over his chest.

  "I've got you, Blossom," George said, but even as the cool easiness of his voice soothed me, Gemma ruined it by leaning out of her seat and looking at him like a lioness stalking prey.

  "George, it's been so long … Just seeing you here, even touching her,"—Gemma made this faux puking face that made me want to punch her right in the cunt—"it makes me think of that time we climbed a tree together and cuddled up to watch shooting stars. Remember that?"

  "Uhh," George started, probably feeling my arm tense under his fingers. If I punched Gemma in the face while we were in the air, would the air marshal like, throw me out into international waters or something? Pretty sure I wouldn't mind. I had the powers of air and water, so I could probably stop my free fall and catch a wave to Australia, right? Might be worth it to rip that smug look off Gemma's face. "We were seven," he continued, even as I turned spitting rage in Miss Darling's direction.

  She caught my gaze and smiled, like Ursula from the Little Mermaid.

  Fuck, she looked like Ursula from the Little Mermaid. You know the part, when the sea witch turns into a girl and tries to steal Prince Eric from Ariel? Mm hmm. That's exactly what Gemma looked like: an evil sea witch.

  "True," she said, but although she was 'talking' to George, she was looking directly across the aisle at me. "But remember when you took me to the eighth grade dinner dance and twirled me around the dance floor?"

  "Can I interest you in a glass of champagne?" the flight attendant interrupted, leaning down close to me and smiling.

  "A glass?" I asked with a caustic laugh. "More like a bottle or two or seven. I'm on my honeymoon and my hubby's ex just happened"—I gave Gemma a look that said I clearly wasn't buying what she was selling—"to get on the same flight. So, keep the bubbly coming."

  "Oh, that's the bloody pits, isn't it?" the attendant said, reaching down to squeeze my shoulder like even she felt sorry for me. "I'll get your drink right away."

  "I don't care if he took you to an eighth grade dance," I snapped, curling my lips away from my teeth and hoping I looked every bit the overprotective she-dragon. "Because he took me down the aisle, bitch."

  "Aww, look, the dragon has claws," Gemma giggled, hooking her perfectly manicured nails at me. Well, fuck her. It was my wedding day; I had perfectly manicured nails, too. And if I had to, I would tear this cunt's face off.

  "Do
n't stoop to her level and start using foul language," Joan stage-whispered as she leaned forward and curled a hand around Gemma’s shoulder. Of course the two of them would get single seats, one in front of the other and directly across from my men.

  "I'm having trouble understanding where the fuck you’ve been for ten years?" Billy scoffed from behind me. I couldn't see him, but I could hear the distrust in his voice. Thank God. At least someone was curious about this bitch's mysterious reappearance. "I think it's creepy that you'd slip out of our lives for a decade and then come waltzing back in like there's nothing weird about it."

  "If I could tell you," Gemma started, her green eyes watering as her lower lip quivered. "I would, but Willy"—Willy!? who the fuck was Willy?!—"oh Willy Bear, it was awful!" With a small but very sexual sounding wail, Gem turned and put her cheek against Joan's hand that was resting on her shoulder while my mother-in-law used the other to carefully stroke her hair back. She even glared at me at while she went about comforting the imposter.

  "She was … in captivity," Joan whispered as I cocked a brow. "Trapped in a supernatural zoo and made to perform for the wealthy."

  "What?!" I shrieked and only the flight attendant and the glasses of champagne in her hand kept me from leaping out of my seat and ripping Gem's hairs out of her scalp—one by one. I would dig the roots out with my nails, too, and leave her bald. "That's the dumbest lie I've ever heard of in my whole life!"

  I realized I was sort of yelling in the tight confines of first class and that there were unsuspecting humans everywhere, but really? Really?! A zoo? Yeah, right, like I'd believe that lie in a million years.

  "That's retarded."

  Joan gasped and Gemma wailed.

  "Don't you dare use the R-word!" Joan said, patting Gemma's hair and looking like she was struggling to keep a self-righteous smirk off her face. "And you think supernatural zoos don't exist? Well then, you've lead a very sheltered life."

  I turned around in my seat to look at George, clutching both champagne glasses in my hands. I was pretty sure one was intended for Dustin, but fuck him, he'd understand that I needed it more.