by C. R. Jane
"Is that a squirrel?" Lucian's voice spun her around and she saw he was leaning casually against the doorframe, eating a bowl of cereal.
Maeve opened and closed her mouth, unsure what to say. Because her lover was indeed in some strange standoff with a small, furry animal. One, who instead of running in fear from the enormous apex predator, was standing on its hind legs reprimanding the angry wolf.
"And I thought dying and turning into a mythical creature was the weirdest thing I would ever see," she murmured, unable to take her gaze from the tableau in front of her. Bishop again rumbled deep in his throat and this time Maeve noticed the slight arching of his back and bunching shoulders - both indicators he might be about to pounce. Feeling a surge of protective panic, she moved at a speed only a hybrid could be capable of, positioning herself as bodyguard.
"Fun-sponge," Lucian smirked around a mouthful of cereal. "This was just about to get interesting; breakfast and a show."
"Interesting?" Maeve was aghast. "Letting Bishop attack a defenceless little forest creature is considered interesting to you?"
"He wouldn't hurt it … I don't think."
But as their lover's fur bristled in shuddering waves along his back, Maeve thought Luci might be wrong.And something is definitely wrong here, she thought to herself. Holding out a restraining hand to Bishop-as-wolf, she scolded, "Down. That's enough from you."
Bishop's wolf sat on its haunches.
Maeve also noticed Bishop's ears flatten submissively at her command and she took that moment to kneel on the concrete and cautiously study their guest. Their furry visitor was still countering the wolf's display of dominance with a tirade of angry squirrel chirping and a show of tiny, if sharply chiselled teeth, but when she examined the little thing more closely, Maeve felt her heart melt and her ovaries suddenly fire a cannon of internal bat signals. She was such a sucker. It was the same with puppies, kittens, bunnies and even the tiny little baby clothes she saw online. The menace she'd expected to encounter when she threw open the door was just so freaking loveable and adorable enough to have her blabbering nonsensical conversation. "How could anyone be scared of you?" Maeve murmured over-indulgently whilst slowly extended a hand.
"Do you really think you should touch it?" Lucian asked a little hesitantly. "I mean, jokes aside there must be a reason it's gotten our favourite werewolf so worked up."
Upon hearing that, Bishop let out a low whine in the affirmative.
"Nonsense," Maeve tutted, still quietly cooing at her new friend. The squirrel, apparently sensing an ally, shuffled nearer, allowing her to pet it on the head with a gentle finger.
"Now you've done it. Now we're going to be two hybrids, a vampire, a werewolf, and a squirrel," Luci muttered under his breath. "Next it will be a cat."
"But it's so cute," she beamed. Turning that full-voltage smile on Lucian, she demanded, "Just look at its bushy tail and tell me you don't love it. We should name it!"
"Name it?!"
Those words were enough to shake Bishop loose from his animal form and he stood, gloriously naked, glaring at the duo with a burnt-caramel wolfish gleam still lingering in his eyes.
"That … thing," he pointed and bellowed loud enough to wake their neighbours, "is a monster. It's the same one that bit me and practically left me for dead!"
Lucian coughed and spat cereal. "Oh yes, I'm sure it was touch-and-go for a while."
Bishop's growl was clearly directed at Lucian, but his eyes remained riveted on Maeve. "Just ease away slowly," he warned. "No sudden movements."
The squirrel turned adoring eyes away from Maeve to stamp one foot at its accuser. Then, with a twitch of its ears and a swish of its fuzzy tail, it sprang away into the bushes. "Aw, you scared it." Maeve turned on Bishop and accused, "Why are you being such a meanie?"
"Me?! I'm not being the meanie. "It …" Bishop pointed in the direction of the foliage, "was trespassing! That's a serious crime and I don't think it's a coincidence he showed up here either. That creature is stalking me!"
"Okay, wow!" Maeve's eyes popped wide. "Do you realise you sound ridiculous?"
At that moment Sam's car pulled up in the street and they were all made suddenly aware of the very public scene they were making; Lucian choking down cereal whilst Maeve stood hands on hips reprimanding a very naked Bishop. Lucian was the first to recover;
"Heya Sam," he waved a welcoming spoon in the air. "Happy Halloween."
Maeve watched as beside her, Bishop hastily grabbed his torn and discarded clothing, using it to cover up as best he could. The blush that rose to his cheeks made her grin in greeting. "Hi Sam. You just missed the excitement."
Easing closed his car door, Bishop's partner averted his eyes modestly and shook his head. "I'm not sure I have the energy for that much excitement before eight in the morning. I'm more of a do it on the weekend, keep my socks on, type of guy."
Maeve saw Bishop's blush deepen to scarlet and because she was having fun making her lover uncomfortable, made no move to correct Sam's assumption. As Bishop hustled inside with a distracted signal and his bare butt mooning the neighbourhood, she made his apologies. "He'll be ready in a minute."
Sam jerked a thumb at the car. "Actually, I think I might grab coffee and come back."
"Good idea," Lucian confirmed. "If this morning is any indication then you're in for a long day."
CHAPTER TEN
Close to thirty minutes later, Sam's car was idling at the kerb but when Bishop got in the man let out a loud sigh.
"What was that for?" Bishop grunted.
"You're late. Again." He passed his friend a coffee gone cold.
"Thanks." Bish checked his watch. Sam was right. "But this time I have a good excuse." He tried to think of one not involving a round of impromptu and surprisingly raunchy shower sex and really didn't want to explain the follow-up scene with the squirrel. If it hadn't been for the damned furry rodent on their doorstep he would have been on time … probably. And in all seriousness, when you had Maeve plus three guys all built like they were, giving and receiving orgasms in a confined shower space, it was bound to take a little time. He scratched idly at his beard, "I had a plumbing problem - I might need a new shower." A bigger one, he thought. Much bigger and with jets. Maybe if I locate the damned hobo I'll survive long enough to use it.
"A plumbing problem? Uh huh. And why exactly were you flashing the old lady who lives across the street? I saw her peeking out her curtains when I pulled up." Easing them into traffic, Sam turned in the usual direction of the precinct.
Bishop sighed and grouchily adjusted the tie trying to strangle him at the neck. "That was a whole different problem. One that I intend to fix today. Turn right up here."
"Right?" Sam looked sidelong at his partner and asked curiously, "Where are we going?"
"To remove a hex," Bishop mumbled the words so quietly they were barely audible over the radio.
"To what? What are we removing?" As requested Sam made the turn. "Where to?"
"I don't know," Bishop admitted, "but we're going to spend the day combing this city inch by inch."
Sam jerked the car to the kerb and looked around them. "Buddy, you're acting strange. Now before I drive anywhere else I want you to tell me what the heck we're doing and what you need removed. Is this medical?"
"It is not medical!" Bishop gave up on his tie and threw his hands in the air. "The hex! We have to remove the hex because I don't have a clue how to find the damned spirit of Halloween and at this rate I don't think I'll live long enough to manage it!"
"That's what you're so worked up about? You really think you've been hexed?"
Sam burst out laughing and
kept laughing until the laughter developed into a snort and then a choked wheeze and Bishop wondered whether his partner was having some kind of attack.
When he'd calmed down enough to draw breath, Sam blubbered with tears streaming down his face, "That's why you've been so on edge lately!"
"Sam," Bishop tried to make him see the seriousness of the situation. "In the past week I have almost fallen over sixty-seven times." He listed off more items using his fingers. More proof that he was seriously cursed. "My car wouldn't start, I was ticketed, I've tripped on a freaking banana peel and danced with a zombie, I've been splattered with ice-cream, I've trodden in shit, a bird droppedits shit on the shoulder of my new jacket, I've been bitten, scratched and stalked by a seriously pissed off squirrel." His eyes searched his partner's face imploringly, "I'm a werewolf, Sam, and I'm being harassed by a damn squirrel."
Trying not to laugh but with his eyes still fever-bright with amusement, Sam laid a reassuring hand on his partner's shoulder. "You're not cursed. It was just a dumb prank," he admitted. "Funny though."
Bishop barely heard him. "I don't think you understand. That hobo from the station has put a legitimate hex on me and it's slowly ruining my life. That's why we're spending the day tracking him down."
"Bishop, buddy, I need you to listen to me and repeat my words. There. Is. No. Curse. I hired an old actor friend of mine. His name's Gregory and with the help of some of the guys at the station we dressed him up to play an early Halloween prank on you. And in my defence, Gregory has a habit of going off-script - that hex business was all improvisation on his part … nothing to do with me."
"Gregory …" Bishop turned the name over on his tongue, anger bubbling up inside him like magma. "Does Gregory happen to have a British accent?"
"He has a lot of accents … he's kind of eccentric. But you," Sam began to dissemble at seeing the obvious rage contorting his partner's face, "you deserved this. You've been on time to work only twice this month and now that you're all loved up I'm the one forced to deal with crazy Suzi Ann. Do you know she's reported three possible homicides because each time she hopes you'll show up to question her? Instead, she gets me and now she phones my extension every other day just to 'talk'." Sam's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Trust me, you do not want to know the things she talks about!"
Bishop took three, slow, even breaths. "Let me get this straight; you thought I wasn't quite pulling my weight so you had a witch-doctor dress up as sexualised hobo and curse me?! Well, this is just fantastic. You're a real friend, Sam."
"Gregory isn't a witch-doctor. He might not have made it big yet but he's done some musicals and a couple of commercials … the one advertising haemorrhoid cream, he was in that."
Now that Sam mentioned it, Bishop did recall the ad with a dancing haemorrhoid holding a tube of lotion … and the haemorrhoid did have a familiar face. "Today just keeps getting worse," he snarled. "I was licked by the haemorrhoid guy!"
"But not hexed," Sam, pointed out. "That's the important part, right?"
Floundering somewhere between anger and absolute embarrassment, Bishop shrugged, "Then how do you explain all the odd stuff that's been happening? I didn't just imagine that angry rodent this morning!"
Now that he wasn't in any obvious and immediate danger, Sam smiled, "You had some bad luck, it happens."
"Hmmm." At that moment there was a loud crash and their car was jolted forward. Sam cursed and swung around in his seat but Bishop didn't even turn his head. "What happened?" he muttered drily.
"Some idiot driver just ran up our arse! Dammit, you just requested this model! We're going to have to drive a squad car while this one is out of commission."
"I really liked this car."
"I know. Let me go talk to this moron." Sam was half out the door when he turned around. "This is not part of the hex you know."
"Whatever you say, Sam," Bishop muttered. "Whatever you say."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Fearing the worst, Maeve was pottering around inside the townhouse, tweaking decorations and basically keeping busy until Bishop arrived safely home from work. He'd called at lunch to tell her about the minor accident and whilst they were talking she'd overheard him growl at a hot-dog vendor whose street-cart had apparently run out of mustard just moments before. He'd also informed her about Sam's prank. Maeve had to give Sam props because the idea was funny. Unfortunately for her sexy but irascible werewolf-cop, he really did seem to be having the worst luck. It just went to show that the mind was a powerful thing.
"A kiss for your thoughts …?"
Warm arms snaked around her as sharp fangs travelled teasingly over the pounding pulse-point in her neck. Maeve sighed in contentment, angling her head for easier access. "I think that's supposed to be a penny - apenny for your thoughts," she informed Lucian.
"I like my version better," he replied, lips traversing her skin before finally coming to rest over hers.
Maeve moaned, arching into his body, silently admitting that she much preferred his version too. A few decadent minutes later, they broke apart, smiling at each other. "I was just thinking about Bishop and his run of bad luck. He had himself so worked up over that non-existent curse, that he basically turned himself into a bad luck magnet."
Luci grunted at that, taking a step back as he looked out the front window. "He really did. I know I gave him a hard time - because, let's be honest; it was funny as fuck. But I was beginning to get genuinely worried about him."
Maeve sighed, "Me too."
"Ditto."
Maeve's heart gave a hard thump upon hearing Gabriel's deep voice. She turned, unable to stop her eyes from taking in all that dark chocolate skin. She licked her lips and saw Gabe's eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. Her men were all so different in their looks, but damn if they all didn't ring her bell equally. Gabe had her wrapped in his arms, kissing her senseless, before she could even take a step. Melting against him, she revelled in his solid presence, grateful that all of them would be together for most of the evening. Gabe would be starting his shift at midnight, but for at least six hours, all four of them would be home.
Pulling back, she asked, "You were worried too, huh?"
Gabe ran a hand over his shorn locks, "How could I not be? Bish is one of the most confident, take-no-prisoners men I have ever met. To see him second guessing himself and in a constant state of stress? Yeah, I was worried."
"Oh, no. Gabe, I don't think that's the case at all," Lucian said, stepping up beside them and running hands over their lover's back.
"What's not the case?" Maeve asked, a little confused but fully aware Lucian had obviously overheard something from Gabe's mind.
Her big paramedic sighed, "I was worried maybe Bishop was externalising his stress about, well, the us situation."
"Us situation?" Maeve parroted.
"Yeah. You know," he gestured to himself, Lucian, and then Maeve. "All of us being together. Let's face it, there have been a lot of changes in all our lives recently. Maybe this was a way for him to vent his frustrations … and his fears."
Maeve thought about that for a moment and could see where Gabe was coming from. She felt a pinch of unease but quickly shook her head. "No. Like Lucian said; I don't believe that's the case."
"Maeve's right; you're an idiot."
They all spun at the deep voice. Maeve was relieved to see Bishop home - and in one piece. He looked clean and uninjured - if a little tired. She couldn't help the automatic smile his presence caused but she also added on a sigh. "I didn't say Gabe was an idiot," she pointed out.
Bishop shrugged, dumping his jacket and shrugging out of his shoulder harness. He carefully stowed his service weapon in the lockbox before
prowling closer and grabbing Gabe, laying a possessive kiss on his lips. Pulling back, he rested his forehead against Gabe's, "You're an idiot. But -" he said quickly and loudly before anyone could interrupt, "I love you anyway. I love all of you. Always. Forever. Until the end of time. You're all mine. And I'm all yours. Understand?"
Gabe smiled, rubbing his head against Bishop's. "Yeah. I understand."
Bishop kissed him hard one last time before stepping back and including them all in his gaze. "And I'm sorry I caused you even a second of worry concerning us. I've been a little out of sorts, I admit. And not myself. But that has nothing to do with our family here. It's solid.We're solid," he promised.
Lucian ran a hand down Bishop's arm, linking their fingers and giving them a squeeze. "Good to know. Now, about this hex …"
Bishop grunted, "What hex? I told you there was no such thing."
They all looked at Bishop in silence for a moment before cracking up hysterically. They all knew Bishop had fallen for Sam's trick; hook, line, and sinker.
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. I may have gotten a little overwhelmed by the situation. But, the important point to remember is that I amnot cursed - because curses don't exist." He flopped down on the lounge behind him, pulling Maeve with him and causing her to squeak at the abruptness of the motion. He grinned a little evilly, rearranging her to his satisfaction, "But do you know whatdoes exist?"
"What?" Maeve questioned, a little hesitantly from where she now straddled him.