by Tate James
Fuck, I still couldn't believe Reg had just called me his missus. My stomach felt a bit off, like I'd been riding a roller coaster after eating half my bodyweight in cotton candy.
“Reg, I think I just …” Tugging my hand out of his, I backed away from him a couple of steps. “I think I just … um …”
“What's wrong, ST? Was it my Mom? You can't take that shit personally. She's a raging bitch to everyone except us boys.” He reached out to take my hand again, but I pulled it out of reach.
“No, no I just need a minute. I think. To get … um … fresh air …” I was backing away from him again and had almost made it past the other three confused as fuck looking elementals before Britt grabbed a handful of my messy blonde hair and yanked me face to face with her.
“Don't even think about it, chica,” she growled. Like … literally growled it like some sort of talking dog. Which, I suppose she was.
“What's going on, honey doll?” Shane asked suspiciously. “What does Britt think you're about to do?”
Britt glared at me with a don't fuck with me, girl look on her face but I stubbornly tightened my lips and glared back at her.
“She's about to run,” Britt, the fucking traitor, snapped. “I've seen her do this once before, and I guarantee the fact that Reginald over there just called her Mrs. Copthorne has her tying her mental jogging shoes as we speak.”
The weight of four sets of eyes settled on me, and I could feel the radiating disappointment from all of them. I refused to look at them though. Refused to feel bad for wanting to get the fuck off this crazy train. These plumbers were hot, don't get me wrong. They were possibly the hottest things I had ever seen in my life, except maybe that one guy.
“She did this once before. In college. She slept with our best friend and then bolted when he said he loved her.” My former best friend was just spilling secrets all over the place tonight, and I was fucking livid.
“Do. Not. Speak. Of. Him.” I snarled back at her and she at least had the grace to look a little apologetic. Not nearly enough though.
“Are you going to quit trying to run?” she challenged back, and the pressure of the guys stares held me glued to the spot. Not that I could have moved anyway, with Britt's death grip on my hair.
“Yes …” I ground out from behind tightly clenched teeth.
“And are you going to stop freaking the fuck out over Reg calling you their soul mate?” she continued, clearly not drunk enough yet or she'd have let this go already. “Because news flash, Arizona, you are their soul mate. Just like they're yours. Fuck, even a blind ass human could see the five of you are made for each other.”
Our gazes remained locked for a long, tense moment where no one uttered a sound. We were all just … frozen in the middle of this crazy expensive looking hallway with an honest to god suit of armor standing behind Billy.
“Fine …” I finally muttered and Britt released my hair.
“Excellent! Now lets get this party started! Mama needs to get some dick in her tonight or she's going to lose her howling mind.” Britt flicked her hair over her shoulder and proceeded down the long hallway without checking that anyone was following her. The exaggerated sway to her hips said she expected we were though.
Shane clamped a huge hand over my wrist, like a socket wrench over a bolt.
“Just in case,” he told me, giving me a look that I couldn't quite decipher. It was pointless arguing now though. The second his skin touched mine, I could barely remember why I was so freaked out to begin with.
Upstairs was actually the roof. Reg led us up there and we found Charlie, along with four others, waiting on a wide platform framed with a low wrought iron fence which wouldn't save a chihuahua from falling, let alone a person.
“Well isn't this dramatic,” I groused, still feeling furious at Britt, despite no longer wanting to flee.
“Supernaturals tend to be a bit … eccentric,” Shane explained, still maintaining his tight hold on my wrist as we approached the waiting group.
“No shit,” I replied, eyeing up some of the absurd outfits being worn by the people who comprised the COCS Head. Clearly, everyone was assigned a theme. Ours happened to be bondage, but I didn't envy the waiflike girl on the far left who was dressed as a clown.
Shane just flashed a grin at me and lifted his chin in the direction of a slightly overweight plumber that I recognized right away—you don't forget a man who hands you a quote for seventeen grand that easily, especially not when it pertains to flushing toilets and walking through ice-cold weather to antique stores just to piss.
“That's Charlie, and the other four assholes next to him make up the rest of Joan's sext,” he told me, gesturing with a tattooed hand in the direction of Reginald's … many dads.
“Reg, boys!” Charlie boomed, holding out his arms as if he was air hugging them, seeing as none of the 'boys' moved any closer than we were already standing.
“Charlie.” Reg's tone conveyed just how much he thought of his father—or rather, one of his fathers? “We're here to formally declare our mate, our spirit, and our wife, Arizona Morgan Smoke.”
“Oh, hah, right to the formalities hey, Reginald?” Charlie coughed out a fake sounding laugh and darted his eyes nervously at the people standing with him. “Arizona, nice to see you again.” Charlie smiled at me and I bared my teeth in more of a snarl than a smile. “This group here,” he gestured at Reg's other dads as well as a small cluster of people standing behind him, “is comprised of the Heads of the Committee of Combined Supernaturals.”
“You owe me seventeen thousand dollars you manipulative fuck,” I replied, without really stopping to think through what I was saying. Hey, what can I say? I was a barista, not a diplomat, damn it!
“And spousal support,” Britt added, and my anger toward her softened just a fraction. The girl did always have my back … I guess.
Charlie spluttered a little, then with a slightly embarrassed flush to his cheeks, regained composure.
“Very well, Arizona,” he said, with a shrewd look about him that I just knew wasn't going to be good for me. “You want money; I want something in return.”
“Huh?” I asked, completely and utterly unsure as to where this was going.
“A grandchild!” he said, and then he guffawed like that was the funniest damn shit he'd ever heard in his life. I just stared at him. The urge to run was … overwhelming. Charlie came forward and put his arms around me, a totally awkward moment since, you know, I wasn't wearing a whole lot of clothing. “Welcome to the family,” he said, patting me on the back with a meaty hand.
It was a little weird, snuggling up to the plumber who'd literally tricked me into marrying his sons. Dickhead.
“Let me introduce you to my sext,” he said, and I cocked a brow. Hmm. Okay, unfortunate name … but six elementals a sext makes, I supposed. Frankly, I was glad I only had to deal with a quint. The slightly overweight man (who, now that I looked at him, also appeared way too young to be Reg's dad), turned to the others standing next to him and started to introduce them one by one.
“I feel like there's an extra element here,” I whispered, but Shane acted like he didn't hear me. Fucker. I distinctly saw his lips twitch. Yet again, I had the sense that I was being tricked. And I didn't like it. Not one fucking bit. “Skeeter …”
Before he could answer though, a waiter whisked by with a platter of champagne glasses. Hah. You know what happens next, don't you? I snagged three in one go, drained the first in a single drink, and then made Shane hold the empty glass. Why not? He wanted to act like some machismo fuck, then he could hold my used glassware.
“So, Reg is like … part each one of these guys' sperm?” I whispered, and this time, Shane actually grinned at me, running his fingers through the darkness of his hair.
“Yep.”
“Huh.” I glanced down the row of dudes, all fairly average and—thankfully—not wearing quite as revealing of outfits as we were. Did not want to see my new father-in-
laws decked out in leather and collars and ass-less chaps.
“Let me get Adonis and Rachel over here and we can get past this unpleasantness,” Charlie continued, waving us forward. Britt had already disappeared into the crowd, but that was to be expected. She was a wolf on the prowl … quite literally, actually.
“Who the fuck is Rachel?” I asked as the five of us trailed along behind Charlie and over to a cluster of—you got it—naked winged people. Okay, so maybe they weren't naked per se, but they were wearing less than we were, and that was quite the feat.
“Rachel is the Chaos Queen,” George said from behind me, sliding a hand over one of my bare shoulders and making me shiver. It was like these boys couldn't keep their hands off of me. “The queen of the succubi.”
“Ah,” I said, but I still didn't really get it. So, what? Each supernatural species had its own club with rules and a leader and shit? Like the Boy Scouts or something?
“Excuse me, Rachel?” Charlie said, clearly annoyed at having deal with the issue of my unmarked shimmer ass. Although I suppose I technically wasn't a shimmer anymore. Nope. Now the deal was sealed with magical tattooed runes, and I was up shit creek without a fucking paddle.
Sealed to the supernatural.
The thought made me shiver.
At least in that moment, I felt like I was coasting, like this whole thing was just the result of a weekend spent partying too hard, like maybe the boys and the magic, the werewolves and the sewer troll … like it was all just a bad LSD trip.
I still didn't quite believe it was real.
“Rachel, this is Arizona,” Charlie said proudly, putting a hand on my shoulder. He was beaming at me like I was his own daughter. Cute, I guess. But maybe a little soon?
Rachel turned slowly to look at me, her hair as red as rubies, collected on the top of her head in an artful chignon. The once-over she gave me was … lascivious?
Uh-oh.
I think I'm being checked out.
“Guten tag?” I said, but I couldn't exactly remember what that meant; it'd been years since I'd taken German.
“Guten abend, Arizona Smoke. Ich bin Rachel,” she said with a shark's grin, her purple painted lips pulling back from white-white teeth. She was pretty. No, no, she was devastatingly gorgeous. Even though I was pretty sure I was like a ninety-five percent on the Kinsey scale, Rachel the Chaos Queen was kind of hot.
“I don't actually speak German …” I said slowly and she threw her head back with peals of laughter. Even that was pretty, her guffawing. When she dropped her chin to look at me, I realized Adonis was staring as well, his gaze sweeping me with appreciation. Either I cut a pretty figure with the stretch marks on my thighs and the birthmark on the back of my right calf, or incubi and succubi were just kind of … slutty.
I was betting on the latter.
Reaching up to rub at my still slightly sore nose, I glared at Adonis. I had not forgotten about that son of a bitch punching me in the face (I still had the black eye to prove it). And this guy was their king? That did not bode well for my future relationship with his people.
“As you can see,” Charlie said, seeming like the derpy but friendly type, “she's finally been marked.“
“Of course she has,” Rachel said, giving Reg's dad a poisonous look. “Anyone with an ounce of talent could tell the moment that connection was made.” The way she was looking at me, with eyes too purple to be human, I knew I needed another drink or ten. I chugged the two glasses of champagne in quick succession and traded them out for fresh ones off the next passing tray.
“I just wanted to see this for myself, another completed ... sext.” Rachel paused for a moment and then frowned at the same moment I did. Sext? Wait, I thought we were a quint? Fuck my life—I couldn't keep up with all these damn terms.
The exaggerated expression on Rachel's painted lips had bits of glitter sparkling inside the purple like diamonds. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they were diamonds. The bit of nothingness draped over her curvy form was covered in sparkly bits too fine to be Swarovski. “Where's the other one?“ she asked, and I noticed Reg choking on his champagne. He started coughing as Billy pounded his back with what sort of looked like a fairly unsympathetic fist.
“What other one?” I asked, and my skin broke out in goose bumps.
There was another one?!
My heart started to race and sweat dripped down between my breasts.
“What other one?!” I asked again, and Rachel smiled.
“The energy elemental,” she said, and I swear, if the look on Billy's face could kill …
“Rachel,” Billy purred, pouring a healthy dose of sex into his voice as he took the succubi (succubus? fucking terms) queen by her arm and tugged her away from me while murmuring something in her ear that I didn't pick up. Reg followed them close behind and George looked undecided in what to do with himself, like a spare nut when the bathroom was completed.
“Go with them,” Shane said quietly, “and I'll take Ari on a tour of the house.”
Charlie looked like he was about to say something, but George cut him off as Shane tugged me away from the little rooftop party and back inside.
“Shane, you'd better tell me what the fuck is going on right this second or—” My threat was cut short by Shane jerking to a halt and whipping around to face me.
“Or you'll what, Ari?” he challenged, his jaw set and his shoulders tensed and rippling. “If I don't tell you what's goin' on, what are you possibly gonna do that's worse than what you just tried to pull downstairs?”
“Downstairs?” I was a bit gobsmacked … Uh, change of subject much?
“Yes. Downstairs,” he repeated, and I saw clearly just how pissed off he was with me. “You tried to leave us. You're it for us, Arizona. You're our soul mate. We will never get another opportunity to love and you're just ready to throw that all away because you panicked when Reg called you Mrs. Copthorne? So whatever this new threat is for not spilling our secrets, it can't be anything on your attempt to leave.”
“Ah hah! So you admit there is a secret!” My attempt to lighten the mood went down like a lead balloon. Shane leveled his hurt glare at me, then dropped my wrist and stalked off down the corridor.
“Shane! Wait! Come on, I was just kidding …” Okay, I wasn't, but clearly now wasn't the time to push his buttons. He ignored me though, and kept stalking. “Shane, where are you going?”
How dare he walk away like that? I had questions—lots of them. About this ... energy elemental, about Reg's parents, about why COCS was such a danger then they were part of the fucking shiny pink head of it.
“To my room,” he snapped back. “I need a minute to clear my head before we go back and deal with all of that crap up there.” He waved an angry hand in the direction of the roof, then continued striding away from me until he reached a door near the end of the hall.
Without pausing to invite me in, he opened the door, entered, and slammed it shut on my face.
What. The actual fuck had just happened?
I was supposed to be the one mad at them, not the other way around! But Shane'd looked really hurt by my little moment of cold feet downstairs … I guess I hadn't really considered how they might be feeling towards me?
Fuck it.
Not bothering to knock, I twisted the handle and let myself into Shane's childhood bedroom, slamming the door behind me. The tattooed air elemental stood in the center of his room, still fucking fuming, and shooting me crazy death glares.
“Oh, fucking stop already Skeeter,” I snapped. “I think we're about even, considering the manipulation you went to in order to mark me as your mate, don't you?”
“Ari …” Shane growled. “Just give me a minute to calm down, okay? I have the temper of a bull in heat sometimes.”
“No, Shane. Not okay. I'm falling to pieces bit by bit here. I didn't realize I was hurting any of you with my actions and now I feel really fucking awful about it. At the same time, can you please stop with the 'soulm
ate' talk? It feels like it's bordering really fucking close to 'love' and we are sooo not there yet.”
“Yet?” he repeated, and I froze. Had I said yet? I meant full stop. Ugh, fucking Freudian slip!
Shane prowled closer to me and I instinctively backed up. My back hit his bedroom door and suddenly I had nowhere left to run as he slid right up against me, his hard hot body crowding mine in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant.
“You said yet,” he murmured into my ear, his hands braced on either side of my head and his warm breath fanning across my skin. My heart seemed to stutter and skip for a second as all the tiny fine hair on my neck stood on end.
“It's just a word, Shane. Doesn't mean anything.” Yeah, that sounded really fucking convincing, Ari. Bravo. You're selling this well.
Clearly Shane agreed—with my brain, not my words. His lips descended onto my neck, pressing a hot kiss over my pulse point before grabbing a small bit of my flesh and sucking lightly.
“Shane,” I breathed in what I think was meant to be a protest? I don't know. It came out sounding sexy as fuck, which I doubt was what I'd meant to happen.
“Yes, sugar?” he drawled, really playing up that damn accent of his and making me whimper low in my throat. How the hell was I supposed to say no to this? Especially when the runes on my skin were sparkling like I was a vampire in the fucking sun.
“We're in your childhood bedroom … with a party waiting for us …” My reasons really didn't sound all that important when said out loud. “With a COCS Head waiting for us.”
“They won't notice us skipping out for a long, hot moment …” Shane chuckled, sliding his hands underneath my pathetic excuse for a skirt and hooking his thumbs through the sides of my panties. “And you were right about one thing, sugar plum—there is a cock head waiting for you.”
“Few minutes?” I arched an eyebrow at him. “Cock head?” He grinned back before claiming my lips in a scorching kiss.
“Few minutes, half an hour … trust me, sweetness, they won't mind.” Well … when he put it like that …