by A. K. Koonce
“I’ve actually done this several times. You don’t have to go over it with me.” Hell, I’ve even worked in the forest a few times, but my father always hated me out there. It’s dangerous. More than just the sharp tools and possible trees falling, but rollover logs are a danger out there.
I hate the tearing away of the trees and disrupting the environment but the work they do is nothing short of amazing. I loved helping him on the dock, working by the sea and enjoying the sun, but the entire process, start to finish, is kind of incredible. My father doesn’t hold any magic of any kind, but he takes all these beautiful things in nature and makes something miraculous. The trees that line this land sail out into the violent sea and withstand the wrath.
It’s nothing short of amazing.
When the smooth, warm deck skims underfoot, Brenton barely even motions a hand toward the steam rooms. He must value his life more than flirting with me. He’s a smart man.
To my left, the framing structure of a ship rests on stilts. It’s bare, just the ribs as my father would say. Men work with hammers and nails in the cool morning air. The sun is just crawling up into the sky, and I look up at the building in front of me. On the edge of the dock is the large square building of the sweat sauna—I mean, steam room. Three women sit up on the edge of the roof, their hands stained, and they continue to swipe over the side of the ship floating mere inches from the steam room. It’s a perfect setup here, employing hundreds of people and making Warf a nice little coastal village.
And yet I’d rather be anywhere else.
A sigh puffs from my lips, blowing my long brown hair from my face as I pull open the tightly sealed door.
Familiar, unbearable humidity clings to my skin the moment I step inside. Two woman and a younger boy, who appears to be barely eighteen, mill around the enormous room.
A pretty woman a few years younger than myself steps around the big form press at the center of the room. Panels of wood are bent across it, taking the shape of the curved boards of a ship. Big brown gloves cover her hands. Her shirt is tied at the middle, exposing most of her stomach, while her skirt is stained and saturated with moisture, knotted at the hip. Her legs, arms, and cheeks shine in the dim lighting with a coat of sweat.
“A new one.” She smiles a big, inviting smile as she walks toward me.
“An old one actually. I’m Arlow. I used to work here a lot when I was in school. My father is Taron.”
“Oh, boss’s kid. Gotcha. I’m Vixen.” She gives a little easygoing nod. She doesn’t look like a vixen. She’s cute. Approachable. Sweet maybe. “Molly, did you used to work with Arlow?” She turns to the older woman.
I most definitely used to work with Molly.
The woman barely glances my way before mumbling something about bats that I don’t quite hear.
“She’s kind of…rude sometimes. And Miles is so damn shy I can’t get him to say more than good morning to me.”
The young boy, Miles, gives a timid, awkward smile. When he meets Vixen’s eyes directly, he blushes at her.
“Makes for a long day, really. I just want someone to bitch to from time to time. Is that too much to ask for?”
“That’s what I’m here for.” I spread my arms out at my sides, and her smile only widens. “Well, that and I have to build like a fuck load of naval ships if we can fit it in in our spare time.”
She grimaces like working isn’t really her strong suit. “We might be able to fit it in.” She passes me a pink ribbon hair tie that feels entirely too pretty for the nasty humid room we’re standing in.
I pull my hair up high on my head, almost matching her inky, curly locks that are spilling around her heart-shaped face. She gives me a second to knot my skirt at my hip, making sure we really have a nice uniform look together, and then she passes me two thick, worn gloves.
“Need me to give you a run-through, or do you think you remember it all?”
“A short walk-through might help.”
She walks me through the room. Men bring in new stacks of smooth lumber, pulling away the nicely curved planks from the forms in the center of the room.
“So the Sanders will bring the clean lumber into the steam room where the slabs will ‘soak’ for no less than an hour. Once they come out of the steam room,” she points to the actual steam room adjoining this room through the wide door, “we need to get them set into the forms within five minutes. After that time, they start to stiffen up and run the risk of cracking when we try to bend them into shape. Stiff wood is bad in this room.” She winks sarcastically at me.
She pauses, and I give a nod, remembering the process as she describes it all.
“While they sit, we’ll do some staining upstairs and then we’ll take them off the form using our gloves and do this fun stuff all over again.”
“Great.” It’s not great. I’d much rather be making cookies and pastries with my mom, but I didn’t exactly think to offer to pay Linden in blueberry muffins, so here we are.
Vixen and I go through the back and forth process of moving the pale slabs of lumber together for about an hour, catching the fresh air and staining in between when we get the chance. We’re just loading up the wood onto the forms when I really start to yawn.
To be honest, I haven’t done physical labor in years. I can’t imagine being in the forest actually using my strength to get this work done like my men.
As if she can read my drifting mind, the woman at my side speaks.
“Are you dating anyone?” Vixen wipes her brow with the back of her hand as her deep-brown eyes look to me on the other side of the curved table.
“Um…” I bite the inside of my cheek. Maybe I should start practicing how to explain my mates sometime. Something easy and vague like I have these men, they’re not a harem exactly, they’re just a collection of sorts, and they all love me, but not all of them will let me tell them I love them and…oh yeah, three of them are dragons, and one of them is a demon, but not like a I’m-going-to-eat-your-soul demon, the fun kind and stuff.
“I’m dating…a few men,” I say instead.
She stops her quick movements of shoving the wood into their slots to glance my way. Seconds pass as she blinks at me.
“Five-minute rule, Vix. Stop gossiping with the batty bitch and keep moving.” Molly’s big body bumps into mine, acting like I’m not even fucking there as she goes.
My eyes widen. Something in me burns to life. Anger strikes right through my chest.
With the twist of my wrist, a small bat shrieks through the hateful old bitch’s hair, looking like it was born from the nest of her ratty brown hair as it slashes its black little wings through the tangle of her locks. Molly’s scream echoes around the small space. Vixen and Miles step back, lips parted with surprise gasps. I slowly make my way toward the door and open it just in time for the bat to burst out into the morning sunlight.
I meet the woman’s gaze, hers fearful, mine furious. I don’t know why I feel so much like Aggie right now. I’m just tired. I’m so fucking tired of trying and trying and knowing that I’m trying so damn hard and it doesn’t even matter.
So fuck it. Welcome to karma. Don’t mess with a woman who can literally rain down bad karma like confetti at a party.
“What was that?” Molly’s lips turn down so hard I think her whole face might slide right off and drop to the damp floor.
“What was what?” I blink at her.
Her mouth tilts impossibly lower at the corners. “You know what.”
“Is the heat getting to you, Molly?” I take a step forward, and she takes one back. “Maybe you’re just becoming a bit batty in your old age.”
Vixen stifles a laugh.
“Just take the rest of the day off, Molls,” Vixen whispers gently.
Molly’s chest rises with heaving breaths as she stares hard at me. For a moment, I wonder if she’ll lash out at me. She’s big. Her fists are the size of grapefruits when she tenses her fingers into her palms over and over again.
And then she shoves past me, flings open the heavy door, and storms out after only an hour of work.
Silence settles in while I stare at the door. As good as it felt to stand up to her, it doesn’t make me feel any better. All the lectures my mother gave me to hide my magic away circle my mind, twirling anxious guilt right along with them.
I won’t feel better until I’m gone. When I find a place like Ellise suggested where I can belong, then I’ll feel better. That’s all I can think about as the quietness settles in.
“So, like all the guys you’re dating, do they just take turns? Do they tag each other in, or is one like in charge and he delegates days? Is there one that rules over the relationship, or is it more of a democracy? Tell me about the dick-tatorship, Arlow.” Vixen’s big eyes wait patiently for my response, while Miles watches her pretty dark eyes like he’s seeing the moon and stars for the first time in his entire life.
I glance between the two. My lips part to respond to her ridiculous question when bright light floods through the room. The door lingers open, and a man steps inside.
“Damn, look at you.” Chaos’ gaze slides over every exposed inch of my sweaty skin, and then he’s on me. His arms wrap around me, sticking to me as I cringe with disgust at the stickiness of my body.
“I’m gross, K. Don’t do that.” I hold my palms carefully away from his clean shirt. Not even a speck of dirt is on him, and he’s just crushing my dirty body against his like I’m his favorite blanket.
“You are not gross.” His big palms glide down my spine, just further confirming how filthy I feel right now.
“Oh, that’s one of them, right?” Vixen finishes sliding the last board into place with Mile’s help, but she never takes her gaze off of me and Chaos.
I turn, trying to step away from Chaos’ latching hands. He lets me go, a smile teasing his full lips. “Vixen, this is Chaos. Chaos, this is Vixen and Miles.”
He’d just missed Molly, but let’s face it, he’s not missing a single thing there.
“Hello, Vixen and Miles.” He gives one of those sexy wide smiles, his dark beard making his teeth look even whiter. That smile stays in place, and the look causes my heart beat harder.
Vixen passes Miles a knowing smirk, and it makes the boy blush even more. Chaos watches them curiously for only a moment before tilting his head down to me.
“Come take a break with us,” he whispers against my lips.
I exhale a heavy breath into the humid room. “I can’t. We have to get these ships finished.” As quickly as fucking possible.
“Well, we got our stuff done.”
Their stuff done… My eyes narrow on him. It’s been maybe an hour total.
“You’re done?”
“Yep.” The p pops as he keeps that smile that’s no longer sexy but frustrating in place.
“You did a day’s worth of work in an hour?”
“Well, I mean, we probably finished up tomorrow’s work, too, but that just sounds sort of bragging when I say it out loud.”
I blink at the arrogant dragon taint.
“Okay. I’ll take a break and see whatever it is you’ve done.” Once more I narrow my eyes on him, and it only causes him to laugh. “If you really are done, you’ll get to help in the sweat saunas with me.”
“Dirty promises.” That smile makes his rasping whisper more dangerous to my little reckless heart.
I step past him, his hands brushing down my hips the moment he’s behind me.
“Miles,” Chaos whispers just as the cool air washes over me. I look back to see the younger boy looking across the room at the shifter. “Don’t wait forever to make your move, kid.”
I roll my eyes but stop abruptly when I remember how quickly Chaos got me into bed. Now that I think about it, it was easy for Chaos. He’s attractive, and my sex life was…pitiful. He made his move in the sweetest, sexiest way.
Shit. Sometimes Chaos misses the point, but sometimes he knows exactly what he’s talking about. I stand smiling and a bit stunned while I think about our relationship.
My gaze drifts up to the green hill beyond the cobbled street we’re about to climb. Dread weighs my limbs as I think about that hike I’m going to have to do back through the forest, and I’m still glaring at the beautiful land when his hands slip beneath my legs. The air in my lungs rushes out as a small yelp tumbles from my mouth.
With one hand under my knees and the other cradling my back, Chaos holds me to his chest.
“Manual labor does not look good on you, Low.” A kiss presses to my hair, and all I can do is wrap my hands behind his neck and pretend to be insulted as he carries me across the street.
“I’m capable of walking myself, Chaos.”
“By all means, don’t let me stop you from your independence.” The smirking asshole moves to release me, sliding me down his chest, but I wrap my thighs around his hips and cling on to him like a desperate—lazy—monkey on a vine.
His big hands clasp around each of my thighs as he shakes his head at me.
“Did it ever occur to you that I like carrying you?” He barely ever acknowledges his surroundings but he never stumbles while he carries me around, his gaze locked on mine.
My father’s worker, Brenton, pins his attention on the two of us as we head toward the forest. His curious eyes hold a small ounce of judgement. It’s a look I’ve seen a time or twelve in this village. It’ll only get worse.
I just need to leave before it does.
Chaos’ head dips, maneuvering us both as he dodges a branch and starts to weave through the forest.
“You say you like carrying me, but I bet you’ll be panting by the time we make it there.” My fingers trail back and forth over his thick, inky beard. I love the contrast of his unique eyes and his dark hair. I love the way the light peeks in on us right now, making his eyes seem even deeper in the flashes of sunlight.
“You think so?”
I nod to him, studying him while he studies me.
“Maybe I’ll have to show you just how long I can keep up a pace sometime.”
I can’t decide if it’s intentional or not when he adjusts me just right, dragging my core against his dick. His tongue sweeps across his lower lip at the same time as my thighs clench around his lean hips.
Chaos is sweet. He really is. But he’s also very much completely masculine.
I brush my lips against his, tasting him. He never stops walking as he kisses me back like he might fuck right now while we wander through the forest. My tongue slides over the seam of his mouth for the briefest moment before I hear them.
“Hell is real, I’ve just never had the pleasure of visiting.”
“Are you really a demon if you’ve never went down under?” Rime’s voice holds that snarky but even sarcasm.
“I can’t decide if that sounds dirty or like a tropical island. What were we talking about?”
The quiet hum of their laughter has me pulling back slowly from Chaos. The rare sound of Rime’s laughter still hums through the quiet forest, and the two men lying side by side on the dry leaves littering the ground hold every bit of my attention.
Rime’s palm is lifted above them both. White frost and flecks of soft snow drift from his arched fingers, but the frost never touches the ground. Sinister twists his wrist back and forth like he’s choreographing instruments instead of snow. He carries the flakes high above them. It’s such a strange, strange sight. I just stare with an open mouth as Rime creates this beautiful cold frost, and Sinister twirls it all up above. With subtle shifts of his fingertips, Sinister pulls all that snow together and, hanging above the two men like drifting clouds, are pure-white snow angels.
Perfect. Beautiful. Snow angels.
And if that isn’t odd enough, the men are surrounded by piles and piles of endless logs. It looks like they’ve logged several hundred trees in the span of an hour.
Not a drop of sweat glistens on their brows. Clean shirts, clean boots. Three discarded axes lie a few
feet to my right, and I glare at those clean blades as the two of them drone on about whether or not Rime thinks Hell would have inferno islands or not while Sinister continues to sway the drifting snow up to build himself another angel.
Rime keeps the argument going just as he always does. “I’m just saying it isn’t water that defines an island. It could still be an island of fi—”
“What the fuck are you two doing?” I finally ask with so much confusion my words come out slow and a little lost sounding.
The hold the demon has on his angels falters.
Pounds of pure-white snow drop down on them. It showers over the dry leaves, the stacks of logs, the sexy men sitting up and staring wide-eyed at me right now. Sinister pushes the gleaming snow from his dark hair while Rime shakes it away in big clumps. The ice dragon stands, dusting himself off as he strides over.
“Sinister’s never even been to Hell. He’s no more of a demon than Chaos is really.” Rime’s voice has that tormenting sound, his lips almost quirking up on one side but not quite making it.
“I’m a demon whether I reside in Hell or not, my friend.” Long finger’s brush the snow off of his dark shirt as Sinister walks toward me.
“And just what are you doing? Turning Dickless into a pack mule now?” Rime’s gaze gets that shining look of amusement in them.
I turn and realize I’m still clinging to Chaos. My thighs relax, and very slowly I slide down off of him like he’s my favorite ride.
That’s embarrassing.
“How—” My eyes narrow as images of very large, powerful dragons flash through my mind. “How did you guys get all this work done?”
Rime’s palms plant on his hips in a very Kain-like stance as he gives me his full attention. He leans in close, preparing to tell me the secrets of his ways. “Have you heard of an axe before, my Tamer?”
“Bullshit.”
He and I stare at one another for several seconds before he finally smiles. And, goddess, do I love when he smiles. My heart does this stupid quivering sort of beat the moment his lips part wide with a full, sexy smile.