What's Up, Buttercup? (Vexatious Valkyries Book 1)

by Jane Cousins

  Galen’s gorgeous ex-lover was probably watching him right now, picturing him naked, and the Demoness would know after all, given their past history together. Grrrr.

  Stephanie resolved to ignore the alien stabbing heat that jabbed away at her gut, it was just frustration at not having killed anything recently, that was all. Besides, she’d just been handed a golden opportunity to find out more about the Queen’s secret plot against Galen. Welst didn’t come across as particularly intelligent or savvy, but still, perhaps he knew what his mother’s plans were.

  Hmmm, what did she know about Welst that she could use? He was fascinated by her cleavage, that was a given. Discreetly she hugged the clipboard to her stomach, hopefully seeming unaware that by doing so her bodacious rack was displayed even more prominently. The tight jacket, held together by one lone button, afforded an excellent view of the tiny lacy top she had on underneath that was more tease than material.

  She watched as Welst actually licked his lips. Ick, talk about lacking subtlety.

  What else did she know about him? Oh, yes, he was incredibly jealous of Galen. Probably why he was showing such interest in her, trying to use and break one of Galen’s toys. “What do you do here at the Palace, Prince Welst, besides run errands for your mother?” She fluttered her baby blues his way, projecting interest. She wanted him thinking she was too much of a bimbo to realise she had just insulted him.

  Annoyance flickered across Welst’s dark eyes, but he reined it back in abruptly as Stephanie bounced in place ever so slightly. He didn’t even realise it but his head began nodding in time with the rise and fall of her breasts. Never underestimate the hypnotic power of a pair of double D’s. They had led to many a male’s downfall.

  “Oh, I do much more than serve at the pleasure of my Queen.”

  “Really? Like what?”

  “I’m Commander of the Queen’s Armies, and Special Diplomatic Envoy to our trading partners and allies.”

  “They sound like important roles.” Stephanie cooed, fluttering her eyelashes again, just in case Welst looked up to double check her sincerity. He didn’t.

  “Very. My moth… the Queen, relies on me heavily.”

  “She must. Tell me, Prince Welst, given this party is being held for Galen, to help him choose a prospective bride, I was wondering why some of your neighbours were here? Do they have candidates they wish Galen to critique and consider?”

  Welst had unconsciously closed the distance between them. It was a wonder he wasn’t getting a neck strain the way his head was dipped so low, his gaze fixated down her cleavage. “Please. Call me Welst.” He’d lowered his voice, his tone thickening with lust

  Stephanie fought and won over the urge to slap him up the side of the head and poke him in his lecherous eyes. Eyes that were the exact same colour as Galen’s, but now he was only inches away she realised that Welst’s orbs lacked that sparkle of humour, ruthless intelligence, and avid interest that lit up Galen’s ink black gaze.

  “Of course, Welst. You were saying… about the foreigners here tonight?”

  “Hmmm… they’re here to protect their interests.”

  “They have an interest in Galen?”

  “What? No.” Welst’s gaze snapped up abruptly, the spell of her breasts momentarily broken. “They happen to be here for trade talks, is what I meant. It would have been rude not to invite them to the party.”

  “Yes. Very diplomatic of you.” Stephanie rocked in place, watching as Welst, satisfied with her compliment, dropped his gaze once more to her cleavage.

  “You know.” Welst traced the edge of her lapel with one finger, lower and lower until his digit rested over the only button holding her jacket together. “I was thinking that perhaps the two of us could go some where private, maybe have a little fun.”

  “More fun than a party?” Stephanie’s tone conveyed doubt. Lashes fluttering, giving him the big blue bambi eyes. Honestly, males of the species were so darn easy to manipulate. Welst might have heard about the comments she had made regarding potential bridal candidates but he naturally assumed the fall out was because she was too stupid to know that she was actively insulting anyone. Not because she was intelligent with a very healthy vicious streak. More fool him.

  “Absolutely, an intimate party of two.” Welst lifted his gaze to hit her with a heated look. It was a pale, pale imitation of the scorching heat Galen could convey if he so chose. “Just you… and me.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t ask you to neglect your duties. You’re too important. Special Diplomatic Envoy you say? Here, let’s go mingle.” She hooked an arm through his and began walking towards the nearest foreign group. The Pake, Galen had said their name was.

  Welst attempted to resist, but the blonde with the fantastic rack was surprisingly strong, easily dragging him across the room.

  The oldest Pake, Helfeg, who had the longest feathers of the group, falling almost to his shoulder blades, styled rather like a mohawk, fixed his yellow eyes on the interlopers. There was surprise at the interruption but no recognition in his gaze as he peered curiously at the Prince.

  “Hi there.” Stephanie beamed a warm smile at the group. All around her height, dressed in various shades of green, the group of four males and two females appeared a little disconcerted at having foreigners in their midst. One of the males, clearly a Guard, shifted over slightly to act as a shield for Helfeg. “I just wanted to say, those feathers of yours are absolutely gorgeous.” And Stephanie told no lie.

  Of the visiting dignitaries, Helfeg’s luxurious mohawk was the most eye-catching. With dark crimson feathers along the peak, shifting to scarlet, before changing to a deep merlot colour that cascaded down to his waist. Even his eyebrows were tiny, dark, claret coloured feathers.

  Helfeg looked bemused for a moment at the compliment before flushing yellow, his skin turning the same colour as his eyes before reverting to its normal oak hue. He bowed his head briefly, almost like a chicken bobbing its head. “That is most kind of you to say…?”

  “Stephanie. And of course you know who Prince Welst is.” It was clear none of the group had any idea who Welst was but all made polite bobbing nods of acknowledgement as if they did. “So, how are you enjoying the party?”

  The group shifted restlessly in place, none of them seeming able to stay still for very long. Their feet shuffling. Heads jerking slightly. Almost like a flock of chickens, but in human shape. Helfeg grimaced slightly before managing a polite, small, tight smile. His lips pursed slightly, rather reminiscent of a beak. “It is a very pleasant party.”

  Stephanie noticed none of the group were drinking. Hmmm. Grabbing a passing waiter, she hit the male with batting baby blues. “Hey, would you be a darling and round up a few bottles of mead and some glasses for me and my pals? Super.” The waiter blinked dazedly before scurrying off to do her bidding.

  “Mead?” Helfeg enquired.

  “I think you’ll like it. It’s made from honey and grains.”

  “Grains you say.” Helfeg looked intrigued and his companions’ restless movements increased as they bobbed and shifted, suddenly surrounding Stephanie and Welst, hemming them in. “We would be very interested in trying this mead you speak of. Let me introduce myself, I am Helfeg. These are my doves, Krula and Alope.” The females of the group bobbed their heads. “This is Gahn, Okolon and Badrin.”

  Stephanie beamed, making sure not to show any teeth, some races tended to misconstrue that as a challenge. “So, how are the trade talks going?”

  “Oh, I don’t really think it appropriate we talk business at a party.” Welst spoke up for the first time, even as his gaze nervously tracked the Pake surrounding them.

  Stephanie glanced over at the two females of the group. Helfeg had introduced them as his doves. She surmised that might be their culture’s word for wife or concubine. Certainly their behaviour supported that. They stayed close to the males, their eyes flicking down to the ground often, though casting frequent curious glances Stephanie’s way. T
here was no air of subservience from them, more a sense of shyness.

  “And your feathers.” Stephanie assessed the two females. Krula’s feathers were slightly longer, reaching just below her ears. While Alope’s were like a fluffy cloud. “The white is just dazzling and they look so soft.” The doves’ skin tone was a lighter oak colour. Their cheeks a little fuller and their lips even more pursed and beak like than the male Pake. Both doves flushed a deep pink momentarily.

  “You are very kind.” Krula trilled melodically. “We admire your yellow mane also.” Alope nodded enthusiastically in agreement of this statement.

  “Thank you, that’s so sweet. Oh, look, here’s the waiter with the mead.” Stephanie grabbed a bottle and began pouring. “Ladies first.” Handing Krula and Alope full glasses before gifting the next to Helfeg, Welst, and then the three remaining Pake.

  Only Welst was rude or stupid enough to take a sip first. Honestly, it was a wonder he hadn’t been poisoned decades earlier.

  Stephanie held her own glass high in the direction of the Pake. “To new friends.”

  All the Pake waited, watching Stephanie partake of the liquid. Even then they paused several heartbeats before Helfeg raised his own glass and took a cautious sip. A few moments later his compatriots drank. All the Pake flushed instantly. The males yellow. The females pink.

  Their bobbing and shifting movements increasing markedly as the females trilled softly in response to tasting mead for the first time. Even one of the males, Okolon, issued a brief musical flute like sound. All glasses quickly lifted once more.

  Stephanie eyed the Pake’s rate of rapid consumption and turned to the still hovering Demon waiter, whose attention had thankfully become locked onto her cleavage and had yet to move away from the group. “I think we’re going to need another two bottles, pronto.”

  “Make it four.” Helfeg insisted, raising his glass in Stephanie’s direction. “I think we may yet owe you a debt of gratitude, fair Stephanie. The trade talks have been stalling but I believe you have found at least part of the solution.” Helfeg tossed back the remaining contents of his glass in one large gulp.

  “Really? How fortuitous. Perhaps you could tell me more?” Thankfully Welst was too intrigued by the way the lacy edge of her top dipped and stretched as she breathed to pay too much attention to the conversation. Stephanie lifted the full second bottle. All the Pake eyed it for a moment before trilling out a loud, enthusiastic, six beat melody that was both sweet and pure.

  Stephanie hid a grin. Her gut was telling her the presence of the different trade delegations at the party here tonight was not a coincidence. All had been eyeing Galen with clear interest and now Helfeg had dropped the intriguing hint that the trade talks were stalled. Though how Galen getting married and his choice of Demoness bride fit into the equation had yet to be determined.

  It would be awesome if she could unravel this mystery tonight. Just imagine how grateful Galen would be. Hmmm, the two of them alone in their comfy suite, he might just see fit to show his gratitude by fucking her brains out.

  Once the annoying ache plaguing her was thoroughly sated, she could see about escaping this Realm and returning to the Fjornfiall plane to fight by her Sisters side in a faux campaign that really, when it came down to it, didn’t matter if they won or loss. Grrr, bloody Corporate.

  No, she would not get side tracked. Pulling her shoulders back, Stephanie angled her body so Welst’s attention wouldn’t shift and then focused upon the Pake. Time to get some answers so she could wow Galen with her sleuthing skills. Then he, in turn, if she was lucky, could wow her with his skills between the sheets.

  Chapter Twelve

  “What?”

  Even with the mood he was in - a sudden blackout wave of rage threatening to engulf him at the idea of being more than three feet from Stephanie’s side - Galen realised he might have overstepped a line. His aunt gifting him with a distinctly cool, unimpressed look being his first clue.

  “What? My Queen.” There, as polite as he was going to be able to manage.

  “If you are about to complete your unmated Knustabber evolution, please do me the courtesy of informing me. I’d like to get out of the blast zone, blood is impossible to get out of silk.”

  Galen scowled blackly as the Queen’s Bodyguards pressed forward, their hands resting on their sword hilts in readiness. “I would never be so indiscreet as to disgrace myself in your presence.”

  Laynn’s lips tilted upwards in a small smile, lifting her chin slightly, issuing a silent command. The Guards retreated several paces, only one of the grey cloaked Shaman remaining close, hovering by the Queen’s left shoulder. Galen was sure the other two creatures wouldn’t be far away. Their unofficial title at court was as the Queen’s pets. Though he doubted anyone was stupid enough to let that slip where the Queen, let alone the Shamans, could hear.

  “No. I think it would take a lot for you to lose control. Of course, no Demon is immune to eventually succumbing to Knustabber once it has been triggered in our males. Just look at my dear brother, Flagstaff. You remind me of him. He was stubborn and determined. Mitigating the condition through forcing a magical meld wasn’t even heard of then as an option. Though knowing Flagstaff, he would have found the idea distasteful. He fought so hard to stay with us.” Laynn laughed but it was brief and rang false. “And now he does nothing but fight, endlessly. A savage, murderous beast.”

  “Leading the Berserkers into battle against the Morghdorn Horde, Uncle Flagstaff is a credit to the Realm. Never giving an inch of land.”

  Laynn sighed softly. “Those damn Morghdorns breed like rabbits. No matter how many we kill they rise up in impressive numbers daily to batter our border. Any small victory we declare is too often quickly eradicated. We hold the line. It is no small feat. I pray daily for the souls of our kin who fight with such pride and honour to keep us all safe. May Lord Lucifer save you from that fate.”

  “No need to worry, I have no intention of joining my brethren on the Western Border.”

  “So you will go through with a forced meld?” Laynn’s tone was one of wary surprise.

  “Haven’t we already had this particular discussion? I agreed to attend your ultimatum wedding party, choose a bride, and allow your Shamans to force a meld.” Well, he had. Before Stephanie. “I don’t understand why you felt the need to have me dragged here for these inane social gatherings leading up to the main event?”

  Just the idea of his aunt using him. His condition. For some as yet to be determined nefarious means, fuck, he wanted to destroy something. That wave of dark, seething rage he was struggling to keep at bay loomed even higher. The pressure increasing, rising to tsunami level proportions, threatening to crush Galen and annihilate his suddenly tenuous self-control.

  Shifting to the left slightly, he felt the massive wave begin to recede somewhat as his gaze rested upon Stephanie, talking enthusiastically to the Pake. Her sleek ponytail gleaming golden, like a bright beacon. The suffocating thunderhead of anger shifted abruptly into need, want, desire.

  Laynn hesitated for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. Her gaze flicked to the Shaman, hovering at her side before she returned her attention to Galen. “You have always been… headstrong, determined, and you’ve made no secret of your reluctance to choose a bride and go through with a forced meld.”

  “I gave my word. There should be no reason for you to call my integrity into question. I’m sure we can both concede that the only reason for our agreement to be negated would be if I was to meet my destined mate.”

  Laynn’s left eyebrow lifted briefly. “That would be fortuitous. Have you met a lovely Demoness tonight who has sparked your soul?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” Truth, no Demoness sparked his soul, it was a gorgeous, bloodthirsty Valkyrie who already owned his heart.

  “Oh… what a pity. So we will go on as planned. You will attend all the pre-wedding parties I have so graciously arranged… you never know, maybe your soul mate will be in a
ttendance. And in the meantime, the Shamans will begin making preparations for the meld ceremony.”

  “Or, you could return me to my bachelor party.” Galen made sure to sound gruff and surly, not hard, since he was feeling both emotions. It would cause suspicion if he didn’t at least ask.

  “No, Darling, you are in too delicate a condition to be allowed to run loose at the moment. Even with your remarkable control, no one can withstand the onset of Knustabber forever. Better for you to remain here, where the Palace Guard can monitor you at all times. I’m just thinking of your safety. If you were to devolve unexpectedly, turning Berserker, then here you would be in the best place possible to be detained quickly and with a minimum of casualties.” Laynn waited a beat, clearly expecting some response.

  “Thank you, you are too kind.”

  The edges of Laynn’s lips lifted nominally in what the Court recognised as her regal, polite smile. “You are my blood kin, Galen. I could do no less for my sister’s get. Besides, we both know that if anything were to happen to me, that you are the obvious heir apparent.”

  Galen thanked the good Lord below he was already scowling, as his aunt’s words caught him by surprise. “We do?” Was this why she was showing such intense interest in him and his future? Did she seek to control the legacy of the ruling seat by having control over who he wed?

  “Come now, no need to be modest. Of all my nephews and nieces, you are the one who has forged their own path. Two centuries upon the Earth plane and you have never asked for a favour, or required any help. You are a Demon who has accumulated education, wealth, and prestige. You never overstay an identity. Nor have you ever become too attached to any prey. You have the respect of the Court. Why do you think so many families are willing to throw their daughters into the marital ring? There’s a very good chance she will be Queen to your King.”

  “No. I’ve been very vocal in regards to my intentions, I have no inclination to claim the throne-”