Crazy Little Thing Called Love: An In The Heat of the Night story

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Crazy Little Thing Called Love: An In The Heat of the Night story Page 1

by Crystal Jordan




  Love can drive you over the edge. It can also let you fly.

  An In The Heat of the Night story.

  Pixie Parthon worked hard to make her music production company a success. Anyone who gets in her way gets the business end of her Fae magic. Her savvy business sense kept her family afloat for years, but now that her musician brother is mated and off on a world tour she’s feeling left in the dust.

  Maybe it was a faint wish for a little love magic for herself, but she didn’t expect one night of cutting loose to leave her marked for life. A little love bite is one thing. Give up her hard-won independence to a pushy alpha werewolf? She’ll pass.

  Malcon is just as shocked as Pixie, but for a different reason. From the moment he saw her, his desire went far beyond getting into her pants. When she agreed—begged—to be bitten, he believed she also sensed their destiny to be mates.

  Now it’s too late. Nothing will convince Pixie that he has no intention of clipping her wings—not even a month’s worth of orgasms on call. Crazy as it sounds, love is all he wants from her. Even if it means letting her go…

  Warning: Dirty wolf on fairy love, semi-orgasmic dance scenes, fully orgasmic biting of mates, Alpha males and women who are willing to smack them with fairy dust when they get out of line. Oh, and some hot anal sex. You’re welcome!

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Crazy Little Thing Called Love

  Copyright © 2009 by Crystal Jordan

  ISBN: 978-1-60504-625-9

  Edited by Bethany Morgan

  Cover by Angela Waters

  All Rights Are 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 and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: July 2009

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Crazy Little Thing Called Love

  Crystal Jordan

  Dedication

  The usual suspects: Loribelle Hunt, Jennifer Leeland, Eden Bradley, R.G. Alexander, Dayna Hart, Lilli Feisty, Robin L. Rotham and Bethany Morgan.

  Chapter One

  My brother crooned into the microphone on stage, and I think every female in the vicinity swooned. Oh, who was I kidding? Most of the men too. Stephen Parthon’s appeal was pretty universal, and he had both a male and a female mate to prove it. A proud grin curled my lips, but I hid it by taking a drink of my margarita. As a ball-busting music company executive, I couldn’t appear too much the doting big sister. I had my reputation to protect after all.

  “Hey, beautiful.” Some drunken troll staggered up, winked and flicked his fingers against my wings, which made my whole body jolt. “Wanna take me flying?”

  And I really meant troll. Even for his race, he was an especially ugly one. I had to work hard not to wrinkle my nose or slap him with enough fairy magic to really send him flying. Attacking him, of course, would get me kicked out of the bar, which I didn’t want. “No, thanks. Maybe some other time.”

  “Okay,” he slurred, grinned, and staggered back the way he’d come. At least he was a happy drunk.

  I twitched my wings to get the feel of his fingers off them, brushing a hand down my short, sparkly silver dress. Backless, as were most of my shirts and dresses. I loved my wings, so why not show them off? They looked like black and purple butterfly wings, with little inward curls at the bottom that framed my ass. Might as well showcase all my best assets right?

  Shifting on the barstool, I crossed my legs and propped my elbow on the polished wooden surface that stretched along one side of the renovated warehouse that was the Eclipse bar.

  It seemed fitting that my brother’s going away show should be here, in a magical bar, where our journey had begun over a decade ago. Stephen’s career had skyrocketed during the past year. We’d sold out the world tour within the first week and had to add tour dates. It was a crazy, crazy thing. Not that I was complaining, but I had to stay in L.A. and take care of the business. Someone else managed the day-to-day aspects of Stephen’s career now instead of me. It was a good thing. It meant growth for us both. Money. Security. Stability. Independence. Things we craved.

  Well, maybe not the independence for him, but definitely for me.

  He got that about me though. He’d always had this understanding about him that people loved. That and the natural charm and charisma from his mother’s siren side and our father’s Fae blood made him an unstoppable ball of empathetic energy. People drew to him like moths to a flame. It had only gotten more powerful as his relationship with his two mates deepened. The magic that unfolded between them had balanced him somehow, gave him the emotional stability to really soar. That kind of love, I couldn’t give him. He was my brother after all.

  But I had to admit, deep down in the soft, mushy center of my very cynical soul, that I wouldn’t mind a little bit of that for myself. Especially now that he was leaving.

  Loneliness was a totally foreign emotion to me. I preferred being on my own, and when our father died, I was a nineteen-year-old kid and my seven-year-old half-brother had come to live with me. It had been a rough adjustment for both of us. I don’t care what the legal age of adulthood was. At nineteen I was still a kid raising a kid. Going through all the custody rigmarole meant there were so many people telling me what I should do and how I should do it and when and where and what the rules of parenting were and…and…and… It never stopped. I like going my own way and doing my own thing. I crave it, in fact. I need my independence, which is probably why, at thirty-nine, I’d never even had a twinge of desire for a husband or kids.

  So, watching Stephen find so much happiness with his mates had been great, but it did remind me that having someone in my life might not be a bad thing. Then again, all the men who’d applied for the position had inevitably tried to control me and simply couldn’t accept that I had commitments on my time that I couldn’t ignore just because they were feeling needy. I don’t mind ties with other people that keep me grounded, but I was born with wings—I need to fly.

  But Stephen was the one about to spread his wings, and I was being left on the ground. He was poised to do great things and had a career he loved. I had been a part of all that, I had helped him become the truly amazing man he was. Hell, yeah, I was proud. Pixie Dust Productions and Stephen Parthon had both become a huge success.

  So, now I just got to sit back and enjoy. I’d accomplished a lot and had a whole lot of money to roll in for it. But, Stephen? He was my pride and joy. If I felt a pang that he no longer needed his big sister to look after him, it was soothed by the knowledge that I raised him well enough to look after himself.

  “Hey, Pixie.” Someone spoke behind me, jerking me back to reality. Turning, I saw one of the owners of Eclipse setting a fresh margarita next to me.

  “Heya, Jerrod!” I reached over the bar, clapped my hands over his oh-so-gorgeous face and planted a wet one on his kisser.

  He cracked up. “Better watch out, Lena and Rachel are both pregnant. The hormones might make them react in ways y
ou can’t predict.”

  “You are a brave man, my friend.” I mean, what guy in his right mind had two women he was fucking living under one roof with him? But he was a werewolf, and their race didn’t get to pick their mates, did they? Fate or instinct or whatever did the picking for them. The fanged races were so odd. I twitched my wings again, just to feel them whisper against my back.

  “The hormones also mean they can’t get enough sex to satisfy them.” Jerrod offered me a sly wink. “It’s good to be me, trust me.”

  I cocked an eyebrow, but couldn’t hold back a wicked grin. “Nymphomania by pregnancy. Who’d have guessed?”

  His broad, muscled shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Not me, but I find with women it’s best not to ask why. That saying about gift horses…”

  “I’ve heard it.”

  “I’ve got to run. Enjoy your evening.” And then the big werewolf was off serving more drinks.

  Taking a deep swig of my drink, my gaze went to the other wolf I knew. My sister-in-law, Candy. As far as I knew, she was the only other wolf besides Jerrod to ever have two mates at the same time. It had caused some waves in the wolf pack, but they’d all gotten over themselves eventually.

  Then again, neither Candy nor Jerrod was a stranger to controversy. Candy’s best friend was a vampire, which was totally verboten since the two races had hated either since the dawn of time. Jerrod and his mates had made Eclipse a neutral-territory business long before it was fashionable not to pick sides in the vamp-wolf war. I’d always known I liked Jerrod. The man had sense.

  The two groups were pretty much on all the other magical races’ shit lists, but Eclipse was open to everyone, no matter whose shit list you were on. Anyone who wanted to start something here—even if it was just to blast some sense into an obnoxious troll—was shown the door. Or tossed out of it. Their choice.

  That didn’t make Eclipse particularly safe for humans though. No one would try anything inside the bar, but take a walk out to a car or cab and all bets were off. Especially with vampires around, it was like throwing blood into shark-infested waters. The only human with the guts to be here was Stephen’s male mate, Michael. But surrounded by his werewolf wife, Candy, his vampire sister, Cyn, and Cyn’s enormous vampire husband, Andre, I figured he’d be just fine. I should probably go visit, but I wasn’t feeling particularly social tonight.

  And since I wasn’t Stephen’s manager anymore, I didn’t have to fake it. There were a few perks to being in charge and delegating to others. I took a deep pull on my icy drink, forced myself to set it down before I chugged the last half of it, and winced at myself. I was wallowing just a teensy bit in my lonely self-pity, dreading the morning when Stephen would be gone for four months. This would be the longest kid brother and I had gone without seeing each other in two decades. His mates were going with him, and I was not going to play fourth wheel to their unconventional little threesome. So…for business and personal reasons, I was about to be left to my own devices. I knew I preferred my own company, but it was one thing to choose to be alone and another thing to have it forced on me. I’d be over it in a few days, but I wasn’t there yet.

  What I needed was a distraction. Something to take my mind off the desire to wallow.

  A cute Fae who looked only a year or two older than Stephen gave me a wink and a once-over. Not bad. I might have to chat with him later. My gaze moved on as I continued to scan the crowd.

  “Well, hel-lo.” Okay, yum. This guy was maybe three feet from me, a little to the left, and facing the stage. The guy was hot enough to make a girl melt just looking at him.

  A navy blue T-shirt hugged the heavy muscles of his shoulders and back. And the things his ass did for those jeans had to be illegal. Nice, very nice. I would seriously love to take that ass for a test drive. It would be an awesome way to end my dry spell.

  He glanced back at me as if he’d sensed my gaze moving over him. Early to mid-forties, I would guess. Silver edged his dark hair and laugh lines bracketed his eyes. Why men looked better as they aged, I would never know. It was damn unfair. Then again, it did make the view a lot nicer for women than it did for men, so that worked for me. The young Fae was completely forgotten. A man with some experience who knew what he was doing when he fucked a woman would beat out an excited young puppy any day.

  That’s when I recognized the face. Malcon. The werewolf Alpha. I’d only seen him on the news and in a suit before. He’d looked great, but I wouldn’t have guessed he was hiding a body that hot and hard under the Armani.

  Good thing I was only looking for a bedmate for the night, because there was no way in hell I’d touch the Alpha with a ten-foot pole otherwise. But just for tonight… I offered him a slow grin, which made him lift an eyebrow. Stephen started a new song onstage, and Malcon faced forward again.

  Not to be deterred, I plucked my margarita from the bar, swished my wings for a light landing as I hopped off my stool and casually sidled up beside the Alpha. “Hi.”

  “Hello.” He offered me a quick smile, but kept his focus on the stage. Obviously, he’d come to enjoy my brother’s show, which meant he had good taste.

  I didn’t know much about the Alpha other than he’d been pretty unobtrusive as an heir, unlike some of the wild hair-up-the-ass heirs in other wolf packs. He’d made waves when he first took the reins by making it clear that no wolf in his pack could engage in the war with the vampires. It meant that violence between the two species had ground to a halt in the short time he’d been in power, at least in our region of the world. I, for one, was in favor of peace.

  A shiver slid up my arm when his fingers brushed my wrist. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  Well, it wasn’t exactly a request so I tilted my head and considered. “No.”

  “No?” His dark gaze flicked back to me and both eyebrows arched.

  I motioned to his half-empty drink with mine. “I’ll buy the first round.”

  A low chuckle rumbled from him and his white teeth flashed in a brilliant smile that made him even more gorgeous. “Fine, but the next one’s on me.”

  “Deal.” I motioned at Jerrod, who nodded, set two fresh beverages on the bar in record time, and then flicked a wicked look between Malcon and me. I stuck my tongue out at him as I took Malcon’s glass, drew a hot little spurt of magic from the air around me, and zapped out our old drinks for the new ones.

  “That’s a handy little trick.” Malcon slid one hand into his pocket.

  “Thanks.”

  He swirled the ice in the amber liquid in his tumbler when I handed it to him. “Your brother is amazingly talented.”

  “He is, isn’t he?” I didn’t bother to hide the pride in my voice.

  The Alpha dipped his chin in a nod and sipped his drink. Watching the muscles in his throat work was outrageously sexy. Jesus, I needed it bad if a man taking a drink was enough to get me hot. Or hotter than I had been already.

  Then I grinned as something occurred to me. He shouldn’t know I was Stephen’s sister. Except for the green eyes, we didn’t look that much alike. Stephen was tall and muscular to my short and slim, and my hair was stick-straight blonde to his curly brown. “Well, you’re the werewolf Alpha, Malcon, and you’re on the news, but how do you know who I am?”

  “I asked Jerrod when I saw you at the bar.” A little smile played at the corners of his mouth. Well, he was interested. Good. He glanced at me. “I thought it only polite to let you enjoy your brother’s show before I came on to you, Ms. Parthon.”

  “I appreciate that.” And I did. How many guys would have even considered that? Nice to know the guy I was going to let take me home for the night was, well, nice.

  The low beat of a drum drew my gaze to the stage. Stephen’s voice dropped to a husky purr, rolling out a love song that had every couple on the teensy dance floor.

  Malcon’s hand slid into mine. “Dance with me, Pixie.”

  “I don’t—” But he was already pulling me along with him. The Alpha had made a decision
, and I got to fall in line. I seriously considered digging in my heels, but since I was the one who wanted to shag him tonight, I figured touching him some more wasn’t a bad plan. I rolled my eyes at myself as he dragged me into his arms. And then I didn’t give a damn who had decided what because I was plastered from the thighs up against all those hard muscles.

  His palm settled at the small of my back, pressing me even tighter to him. If I’d had any doubts about whether or not he was on the same page as I was for how this evening should end, they were laid to rest when I felt the rigid length of his erection digging into my belly.

  Heat slid through me like a drug, loosening my body so that I was all but lying on him. He gathered me closer with every turn on the dance floor. His thumb moved in slow circles against my back, edging over the material of my dress to slide across my skin. I arched into his touch a bit, loving the feel of the slight callus on his fingertip. It was stimulating and unexpected in a man I knew worked in an office all day. His wolf’s claws scraped ever so lightly against the flesh of my back, and my sex clenched tight.

  I sucked in a breath and the hot, masculine smell of him made my nipples harden to aching points. With the next turn, he slipped his heavy thigh between mine. The flex of muscle in his leg when he moved made him rub against my clit. I had to bite my bottom lip to hold back a mew of pleasure. Burying my face against his warm chest, I tried to get a hold of the lust that wound tighter and tighter inside me. Wanting him was one thing, but we were in public.

  “Oh God.” I closed my eyes when that stroking hand on my back touched the edge of my wing. Fairy wings were so incredibly sensitive. A shudder passed through me, and moisture flooded my pussy. “Oh my God.”

  “Really? That good, huh?” His other hand splayed between my shoulders, his fingers spreading so that he touched the base of both wings. Still, he continued to trace the outline of my wing with one fingertip. My fingers bunched in his T-shirt, and I didn’t know if I should push him away or pull him closer. His leg and his hands and his body against mine were going to drive me to madness if I didn’t get some relief soon.

 

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