Golden's Rule (35 page)

“I like sappy. She’s happy. And with a babe, Torque.”

“Ah, not for a few more decades, sweet. You’re all mine for a while longer.”

“Mmmm, good. Does that mean we can work on rule number five?”

“Rule number five?”

“Making love to me while feeding me pancakes?”

“Damn. I like the way you think and all your rules. Shall we call them Golden’s Rules?”

Beauty grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “
Oh, I like that. But don’t forget the Golden Rule.”

“I love you?”

“Mmmm…yes, that one!”

She leaned in and kissed him quickly, sending a surge of warmth and love he knew he’d never be able to live without.
“Can they come over? I mean, well, not while we are learning our rule number five, but to our home? Today? Do we need to have this stupid council meeting today?”

“Hell no, we’re celebrating. You’re free, sweet. No more nightmares. No more pain. No more worry. Fuck the kings.”

“Uh, no?”

“You know what I mean, brat. Shall I ask?”

“Mmm, please? I love it when you take over.”

“You do, don’t you? Sadly, I will have to wait to order you around. I don’t see any fun for a few hours at least.”

“We just left fun.”

“Damn—”

“Do it. Please. You are due your daily dose…”

He tightened his control over his body at the teasing hint in that tone. “I am pleased to meet you, all of you. Why not take this to our home? The meeting can wait. The evil scumbags will be there later, I’m sure. I can have Beauty show you the way, if you’d like.”

“Wow. That was so quick and sweet, too…”

“Sweet, for a blow job, Agni can come over too.”

“Ha!”

“You’ve both done enough for the fight. It will be here, remember, when we are all dust,” Agni said.

“Huh, well, maybe when you are, but I have no problem with the Kings and Coven heads all taking over for a while,” Tabithia said.

Aeros nodded. “A break is what we all deserve. For something to celebrate, eh?”

“Well, since we no longer have a home—” Samantha began until Derrick covered her mouth with a large hand.

“We have had a wee bit of trouble with Death Stalkers,” Derrick grumbled.

For some reason everyone laughed. Samantha rolled her eyes.

“Ah, and that’s a good thing, is it?” Torque said only to feel a sharp elbow in his stomach. Grinning, he kissed the top of Beauty’s golden head.

She was truly his.

“You are so busted for that! I should paddle your ass, Torque.”

“But, sweetheart, that’s my line.”

A bit miffed by her stealing his favourite warning, he hid a groan as a soft, hot, and wet mental caress encased his cock to full arousal. Holy shit.

“Beauty! Holy hell, don’t do that!”

“Babe, I think you need to accept that you can’t get rid of me. You’re stuck with me.”

“Holy hel…damn right. Now let up before I blow in front of your family.”

Soft laughter and one more, harder tug by an invisible mouth and he tightened his hold on her and his control. He loved her mouth, even when she used it to throw his words back at him. But still, they were in a hallway full of people and he had an erection that wasn’t going down. He grinned into her hair and kissed her on the top of the head again. He loved all of her, mouth, body, mind, spirit, all that made Beauty, beautiful.

“Damn right, mister. You’re mine now.”

He sent her a soft wicked touch of his own. Her brilliant eyes met his and a shiver of anticipation raced up his spine.

“Forever, babe. Forever.”

The promise echoed between them, deep and strong, promising them that their hopes and dreams would come true. He’d make them come true, he thought, pulling her tight and watching her family and friends—now his family and friends—talking all at once. Yeah, he had his beauty, and more, a life with her that would last forever.

“I love you, Torque.”

“I love you, too, Beauty.”

Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

Sisterhood of Jade: A Spartan’s Kiss

Billi Jean

Excerpt

Chapter One

The silence of the night settled over Tabithia as she waited.

The witching hour could hide almost anything. Things a person couldn’t obscure in the harsh light of day.

She was good at hiding. Had to be. None of her close friends knew what she concealed beneath the surface of her adrenaline-junkie escapades. Not even her aunts knew that, beneath her skin, she hid the revulsion clawing at her. Why should they? People had burdens. Burdens they managed alone. Hers were no different. And they were easier to hide in the dimness of the midnight hours. Night allowed the edges of darkness within her to melt into forgetfulness. Black was, in fact, her favourite colour.

She should have been born a vampire, not a witch.

Sadly, no. She was one of the Wiccan, a Daughter of the Three. She wasn’t one of those goodie-two-shoes, can’t-hurt-anyone witches. Oh, no. Her ancient coven believed in survival. Survival meant being so badass no one messed with you. She had the badass down to a T.

For all the good it did her.

Tabithia hunkered further down in her crouch, as a runner glittering with reflectors, ran by with her music blaring. She winced. Clearly, the runner had no regard for her ears. Or herself. Aged buildings, paint peeling and splashed with colourful graffiti, lined a street full of potholes and trash, yet a woman ran by with her ear buds blocking out any sound other than her music? Humans. Tab never would understand them.

She really wanted to curse her aunt, Circerran, nicknamed Trouble, for getting her out here. By now, Tabithia could be drinking at One Eye’s immortal tavern or racing her way-too-expensive but fantastic Ecosse road bike with other immortals. Instead, she waited until the jogger disappeared before craning her neck around the building’s brick corner to peer down the murky street. Cursing wasn’t her thing, anyway. Too many people just didn’t get that a curse could come back and bite you in the ass. She did. Oh, yeah, she got that, so no cursing for her.

Several minutes passed, and no one else appeared. Not surprising since even a stray cat wouldn’t wander through this neighbourhood so late at night. The runner lacked common sense. Still, Tabithia didn’t trust her eyesight alone. Magic could flow beneath the surface of almost anything from a poisoned apple to a slum neighbourhood street. With one more glance behind and to both sides of her, she leaned a hand on the rough brick wall and focused her inner eye, which revealed nothing more than the shadows of the cars she’d already spotted parked along both sides of the street.

Tabithia watched a second more before letting the witch sight fade, leaving her alone in the shadows once again. Hunger, not for food, but for the feel of others around her, beat at her. Restlessness burned along her body. Her muscles ached from holding them tightly bunched and ready for action—action wasn’t happening on a street corner.

I could be out partying. Drinking it up. But no. Trouble calls and I have to answer.

True. She always would, too, no doubt.

So, party time would have to wait. Instead she waited, while the darkness inside her built higher and higher. The need to ease the pain blistered along her senses grew, and she knew, just knew that only more pain could ease the beast clawing within her.

She drew her butterfly knife and balanced the double-sided blade by its tip between her two fingers, flicked the scissor-like sheath along her knuckles and spun the silver blade over and between her fingers. The cool weight of steel comforted her. The sharp edge provided the pain that would ease the memories. She watched the silver blur as she twisted her wrist and let the razor-sharp blade glide over her knuckles before snapping the two sections of the hilt in her hand. The urge to screw up the rhythm of her knife play surged through her. With more effort than she felt comfortable with, she steadied her hand and began another round of flip and catch, until she could control her breathing.

Trouble would be there soon

“Well? What’s up? Any news?”

Shit! Tabithia clenched her fist around the smooth hilt of her knife, just barely stopping herself from yelping at aunt’s soft whisper near her ear.

She hated when Trouble caught her by surprise. No doubt her observant aunt had done it on purpose, too. Not many could get the drop on her, but when Trouble did, her aunt always enjoyed it to the max. Aggravating didn’t even begin to describe her aunt. 

Not bothering to turn, since she could sense her aunt’s grin without the humiliation of actually seeing it, she took her time to pocket her knife, trying to summon the patience to deal with her aunt’s cheerfulness. “Nada. Should there be? Is this going to take all night? I do have a party—”

“Please. You always have a party. This pays the bills. Right?”

Tabithia had enough money set aside to pay for her partying from here to eternity—if she ever had to pay for her partying. Trouble? Gobs more. Her aunt stockpiled money like a squirrel packing a tree full of nuts for the next ice age.

When she grumbled again, Trouble laughed. Tabithia reluctantly turned around to confront her, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

Her aunt’s eyes sparkled with happiness. She always sparkled—tonight proved to be no exception. Dressed in a white T-shirt with the words ‘More Cowbell’ scrolled across her breasts, black hip-hugger jeans tucked into knee-high black boots, she looked more like a hip rocker chick than a deadly spell-caster. She winked when Tabithia met her eye.

“Caught ya, didn’t I?”

“Nah, I knew you were on your way.”

Trouble’s grin widened, but she dropped the issue. “Yeah, anyways, chica, this one will be worth the wait.”

Like Tabithia hadn’t heard that before.

She ignored Trouble’s huffed laugh. A woman who looked like her aunt shouldn’t be able to get them into such trouble. Her ivory skin, high cheekbones, wide, green eyes, cute, little, pink bow mouth, and heart-shaped face simply looked like they belonged on some supermodel, not an adrenaline junkie hooked on mad escapades. Gorgeous, waist-length, burgundy hair Tabithia would die for—or kill to have—framed all that beauty into something breathtaking.

Yeah, her aunt made her feel like a watered-down carbon copy. She hated that.

“So? What’s the take?”

Trouble placed a long, red-nailed finger over her pink lips and whispered, “Shh, you’ll see.”

Tabithia turned back to the street, holding in a growl of frustration.

Several uncomfortable seconds later, Trouble said, “You’re no fun anymore, Tabbie-cat.”

“Huh.”

Her aunt rocked against her shoulder, trying to break her out of her black mood. No luck. She’d tried all week to jump-start herself out of the gloominess currently weighing her down. The darkness beat a painful rhythm inside, demanding more recognition the longer she ignored it. Action. Pain. No amount of teasing would ease what she had going on.

“Aw, come on. Lighten up.”

She blinked.

“I’m light.” Did she sound defensive? “Just what’s up? I hate it when you don’t tell me the deets. I’ve been waiting here for you all night and now you pop in and don’t explain a thing. I hate that.”

Silence met her outburst. Heat warmed her face. She suddenly felt clumsy, awkward, as if she stood naked in a room of strangers. Her outburst wasn’t her style. But more and more she felt frustration building and blowing when she didn’t concentrate on keeping a tight lid on it. Along with hot, blistering self-hatred, now she had temper tantrums to worry about. She bit her lip, knowing that no matter how hard she tried to ignore herself, her body, her stupid life and, even more, her stupid dreams, she couldn’t seem to keep that lid on tight enough. Something horrible always slithered out from under the lid. Tabithia needed to feel the bite of steel, see the blood, and block the images ready to swallow her whole before the memories dragged her back to a small, dark, dirty room filled with horror.

“There’s going to be a silver BMW Z9 coming down the street in about two minutes. The driver’s going to be a vampire. He has a case. In the case is a diamond, and that, Tabbie-cat, is what we’re after. He’s an amateur. Totally. Took the diamond from some very upset folks. So? We’re on a fetch and carry.”

It took Tabithia a full second to soak up the flood her aunt had just spilled.

“Huh.”

Another silence settled between them.

Behind her, her aunt shuffled her feet on the dirty pavement. “If I’d known you wanted in, I would have told you the deets. I didn’t think you really—”

The sound of screeching tyres and a revved-up engine interrupted the embarrassing apology. The mark had arrived.

Adrenaline flushed through Tabithia, exceeding any drug ever created, and quickly shoved the darkness back where it belonged. “Game on.”

Trouble nodded. “True. You stop the car. I’ll distract. You take the case. Meet me in two hours. My place.”

Not bothering to answer, Tabithia began her spell, drawing energy and power from the cool night air to add impact to the murmured words. Eyes focused on the street, she gathered up a small breeze and loaded on some strength, creating a small, but potent cyclone of dirt and debris. A silver little beauty roared into view and nearly upended when the driver tried to avoid getting dirt on his pretty sports model.

In the midst of the burned rubber and smoke, Trouble walked out from her hidden location by the wall. She’d used her magic to transform her T-shirt and jeans into a white, low-cut sheath dress, hugging her ass like a glove and barely covering it as she strutted over the uneven ground like a runway model. Hand up, faking a phone call, Trouble appeared oblivious to the screeching tyres and windstorm.