Pixie's Passion
Pixie’s Passion
Mina Carter
Published: 2011
Published by Summerhouse Publishing. Copyright, Mina
Carter. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected
under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any
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Editor
Nicole Hicks
Cover Artist
Mina Carter
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents
and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are
not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or
persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
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author.
"Not a cat in
hell's
chance."
Cy folded his heavily tattooed arms and
looked around the office with a mulish glare. It was a small room
anyway but crammed full of the
Moonlight & Magic
security staff, one of them nearly seven feet of Gargoyle, it
seemed even smaller.
"C'mon Cy...you're our only hope," Myst
pleaded, waggling the scrap of red satin on the end of her finger.
Cy's eyebrow crawled further up his forehead. Myst's look was
calculating as she held the article, a red satin thong, out to Tiny
next to her. "Or I could always get the guys to pin you down whilst
we put this on."
The demon recoiled, a look of disgust on his
handsome face. "I'm not going near
anything
that's going in
the crack of his ass!"
Cy chuckled, "Good luck with that sweetheart.
I don't think they're that interested. Why me anyway? I'm not even
on the security team and I thought this gig was up to you."
Myst was still glaring at Tiny. "Yeah, it
normally is. But with half this lot..." she jerked her thumb around
the room. "...bloody loved up, Darius over there batting for the
other team and the rest of us being of the female persuasion, we're
looking at other options. Namely you."
Tiny and Knuckles looked sheepish at Myst's
blunt statement but the whole club knew they were both newly mated.
Tiny's wife, Cassia, was the first and only vampire allowed into
the club. Well, the only vampire allowed both in and
out
of
the club with her head still attached. Whereas Knuckle's mate Neri
was just the sweetest human any of the staff had ever seen and to
say the large gargoyle was besotted with her was an
understatement.
"I see your point."
Cy put his stubborn face on. Myst thought she
was a stubborn bitch but Cy was a pixie born and bred. The day-glo
hair was gone, cut and dyed into a short black crop, but he still
had the balls and the tattoo's to prove it, the latter stretching
from his knuckles all the way up to his shoulders.
To most people they just looked like random
swirls and marks but to another pixie they told Cy's life story.
Who he was, who his parents had been, what battles he'd fought
against which other clans and, if he'd ever been married, then they
would have noted who to. Mostly tellingly of all though, the spot
on his wrists where his clan name should be was blanked out.
Tattooed over completely black so the name couldn't be read.
Cy folded his arms. "Still not doing it."
"Christmas day. Our place," Tiny offered,
"Neri'd love to have more mouths to feed."
Cy groaned. That was just going for the
throat. Cy didn't have a family. Not now. He used to have a family,
but now his clan was gone. Wiped out. It's name erased from pixie
memory forever thanks to the actions of one man. Thanks to one man
he was homeless, condemned to wander and never find rest, never
know the peace and comfort of family again. He was dishonoured. A
man without a clan and, for a pixie warrior, that meant no other
clan would accept him.
They were like sharks scenting blood. Tiny
chipped in. "Cass makes fantastic mince pies, we could make a day
of it. Shall we say eleven o'clock?"
Cy's eyes darted around the room. The
temptation was overwhelming. A family Christmas...He thought back
to his apartment. Little more than a single room with a bathroom on
the side, kitchenette in the corner and his futon/bed in the other,
it wasn't the most appealing of places. One reason he spent every
waking hour he could at the club, either doing odd jobs or using
the gym in the basement. And, over six foot of solid muscle anyway,
he'd just put muscle
on
the muscle.
"Bastards," he muttered. They knew his
weakness. They all knew his weakness. "Okay, what do I have to
do?"
* * *
"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Northfield
Hospital's Christmas Auction. As you can see we have some
delectable dates up for auction tonight, all of them very kindly
provided by local businesses. All proceeds this year are going to
the neo-natal unit..."
Teresa zoned the rest of the opening speech
out as she rooted in her purse for her cellphone. Flicking it open
she scanned for new messages and breathed a sigh of relief. No news
was good news. It meant the babysitter was coping with her two
monsters.
"...the owner of Mackenzie Plasma Products,
Mr Mackenzie is offering to whisk the lucky lady who wins his date
off on a luxury evening which will include dinner and dancing on
his sumptuous yacht, the
Lady Jane
..."
"Oh my god...would you look at that!" Joanie,
Teresa's co-worker and partner in crime, hooted as a man stepped
out from the wings and started down the runway. Suave and
sophisticated in a classic tuxedo he had the sort of dark good
looks that wouldn't look out of place in a Bond movie.
"The name's Mac, Big Mac."
Joanie fell about giggling at her own joke as
Mackenzie strutted his stuff on the catwalk. Teresa had to admit,
he was good looking. But his brand of slick good looks left her
cold. Too like Mario, her ex husband and the bane of her life. He'd
been a charmer too and had had her convinced she was his one and
only.
It wasn't until the car accident that had
taken his life that she'd found out she was one of many. That the
wedding vows Mario had taken he'd said so often he should have been
word perfect, usually without the little matter of a divorce in
between, and that a wife back in Italy ensured that neither she nor
their two children were entitled to any of the De Luca fortune.
"You, are drunk. Already."
The bidding was fast and furious as Teresa
shook her head at her friend's giggling. Joan couldn't hold her
alcohol. Just one drink, especially the complimentary champagne on
their table, and she was anyone's.
"Yup! And you should be too! To the good Mr.
Mackenzie and his gorgeous ass!"
Joanie's catcall dropped right into a lull in
the noise, her comment clearly heard throughout the room. Including
the good Mr. Mackenzie himself who turned and winked right at
her.
"Ohmigod,
ohmigod
, he heard me,"
Joanie squeaked and disappeared under the table as everyone in the
room looked their way. Mortification burned across Teresa's cheeks
as she thrust her hand under the tablecloth and tried to grab hold
of Joan.
"Get your ass up here girl, everyone's
looking at me," she hissed as her cheeks glowed neon. At least, if
the lights in here went out, they'd still be able to see.
Joanie slapped her hands away, stopping her
friend from hauling her back up to face all the people staring at
them. People who were all grinning at Teresa, obviously thinking
she'd been the one to make the ass comment.
"Girl, you are
so
dead when you come
out from under there."
"Well, we know Mackenzie has one dead cert in
the room," the auctioneer laughed and moved smoothly on. "Okay,
next up is the listing from paranormal club
Moonlight &
Magic
. Waiter Cy is a bad boy looking for the right woman to
tame him, if only for one night...Christmas eve. So, for all the
lovely ladies in the audience...here's one Christmas present you
won't forget!"
The next figure to step out from the wings
onto the catwalk stole Teresa's breath right out from her lungs. He
was tall and stripped bare to the waist. All the better to see the
tattoo's that covered his arms right down to the fingers hooked
into the loops of jeans that rode low on his hips.
He stood in the middle of the stage for a
moment, his attitude pure arrogance as he looked around the room.
The lights had to be blinding him but still he looked, ice blue
eyes sweeping across the crowded tables. A collective feminine sigh
whispered around the room and even Teresa's traitorous body sat up
and took notice. She didn't want it to, she was done with men. So
done after Mario that if she'd found other women in the least
attractive she'd have given up on men completely. But there was
something about this guys defiant stance that sent a shiver down
her spine.
His head turned and he looked straight at
her. Teresa's breath caught as his blue eyes burned into hers. He
couldn't possibly see her, could he? No, there was no way he could,
not with all the lights trained on the catwalk. It was just a trick
of the light.
"What's going on?" Joanie whispered, loudly,
from under the table. More of a shout than a whisper really. Teresa
didn't answer, struck dumb as Cy sauntered down the catwalk, his
eyes still firmly on hers. The lights shimmered lovingly across
perfect muscles, the six pack stomach flexing as he walked.
"Heeeeello...need info down here!"
Joan's hand emerged from under the table and
waved at Teresa. Who totally ignored it as Cy reached the end of
the catwalk. Instead of doing a little pose like the rest he ran a
hand over his toned stomach and slid it down towards his groin. His
eyes twinkled as his lips curved in a suggestive smile.
Teresa fanned herself with her program, her
eyes not leaving the stage in front of her or the man stood on it.
Had the temperature in here just jumped twenty degrees? They really
needed to turn the air-conditioning up.
With a lazy flick of his fingers he popped
the first, then the second button on his jeans...just enough to
tell he wasn't wearing underwear. Then he blew a kiss at her.
Teresa's heart stopped. Joan's frantic waving
by her side didn't register as Cy stalked back up the catwalk and
disappeared.
"What happened? What did I miss?" Joanie
demanded as she pulled herself from under the table on Teresa's
arm.
"And congratulations to the lady in red on
table five. One of our hostesses will be along shortly to collect
your details for your date with our delectable waiter Cy."
Table five.
They were table five.
Suddenly the grins Teresa was getting from
the other people seated around the table made sense. An awful
feeling crept over her as she glanced down at her red top, then
round the table at the other women's clothing.
"Shit, I think you just won me a date."
Christmas eve. He couldn't believe he was on
a blind bloody date on Christmas eve.
