“I know,” he said softly, patting her ass. “Tell you what, if we buy a house and it doesn’t work out, we can always sell.”
She would never do that to them. “Okay.” She straightened her dress and took Oycher’s hand, when he came around to meet them. His serene smile spoke of great satisfaction. “Glad you’re happy,” Isla whispered as they made their way to a narrow seashell inlaid walkway. “My jaw is killing me.”
He peered down at her, her face reflecting in the glasses he couldn’t remove since their realtor was human. “Drink from me.”
“You’re my walking medicine cabinet,” she said with a giggle. “I stub my toe, then I should drink. Got monthly cramps? Oycher has the cure.” She patted his chest. “I can manage until we’re done here.”
His brow rose over his glasses. “So you think we’ll be done with this viewing fairly quickly?”
No, she didn’t really want to live on a boat for the rest of her life, even though it was magnificent, and it rocked her gently to sleep. But nothing struck her as home. She made the mistake of looking down, where his jeans stretched across his narrow hips and full thighs.
Oycher snapped a finger in front of her face, whispering huskily, “The house, moja žena.”
Oh, she was horny. “Right, the house.”
“The draw of the full moon,” Terje said with anticipation. “You’ll be getting worse, or, in my opinion better, as the night falls.” His white pupils expanded into the arctic blues. “I doubt I’ll wait until midnight for my wedding night to commence.” His voice deepened, sounding rougher. “So let’s get on with this, shall we?”
She spotted overgrown Hibiscus in random colors nestled beneath untrimmed hardwoods that reached out to the sky in all directions. Ivy grew on their trunks, some of it poison. A one-eyed cat jumped off a turned up flowerpot, hissing at Oycher and leaving. “I guess you won the bigger fangs contest.”
His lips curved, his hand pulling her along. “I guess so.”
“This place needs a crew of gardeners,” Terje said, surveying, his hands on his hips as he turned in a tight circle.
No, they’d make it too perfect. “I know how to trim.” With her newer strength, she could even take on most of the hardwoods. “I just need the equipment.”
Terje stopped looking at the lawn and focused on her. “You want equipment?”
“Well, yeah.” She spotted a shed on the other side of the lawn, pitched at the line of marshlands. “We could fit a bunch of equipment in there. And past that line of trees,” she explained, “we could run at night.”
“Hmm,” was his reply.
“Watch that step,” Oycher said, lifting her by the waist over the rotted wood.
She wiggled down and lost herself on the wide-planked porch. Layers and layers of paint were peeling, exposing generations of color. “All we’d have to do is scrape this off, and I think a smoky grey would set off white wicker and a…porch swing.” She pointed to the corner, where the columns branched off. “Over there. We’d need striped pillows…tomato plants on the side, where the sun’s strongest. You know, in those funny pots with the holes in the sides. That way, Terje can have fresh tomatoes with those bacon sandwiches he loves. And we might as well plant herbs over there.” She chewed her lip, checking out an open area overwrought with weeds. “I think some rose bushes are under that mess.”
Oycher shook his head no. “I had no idea I’d be dragged to a fixer upper. Even in immortal speed, I haven’t the time for this.”
Terje opened the screen door, gesturing them inside. “Let’s hurry. Why waste the realtor’s time?”
She nodded, following Oycher. There wasn’t any way she could ask for this house, when both of them seemed to hate it already, especially considering she’d turned down thirteen perfectly good ones that her males had loved.
Isla ran her fingertips over a half-round table pressed against the small foyer wall. Positioned in the center, at least three-dozen blood red roses exploded from a crystal vase. The vase didn’t fit in at all; its elegance chic to the home’s shabby.
“This seems okay.” Terje shrugged.
Isla’s chest tightened. Circling a square glass table layered with books and magazines, a cluster of mismatched, overstuffed chairs occupied the living room. On the far wall, three rectangular windows faced the dock. She could see herself here on her days off, watching a storm roll in off the shore during rainy season.
“Don’t get that look about this house,” Terje warned. “I don’t think half this structure is sound.”
“I suspect termites,” Oycher put in.
“Termites, my ass,” Isla groaned. She looked around, moving through the narrow hallway and glancing up a polished wood flight of stairs. Up, she went. If she didn’t have immortal balance and heightened reflexes, her human self would have ass-planted, considering all the slopes and sways warping each step. “Kathy?” she called out for their realtor. “We’re here.”
Three bedrooms and a bathroom occupied the top. She searched the first two bedrooms, finding both empty. But when she looked into the third, Isla realized Kathy wasn’t there. She stopped short, staring at an oversized bed larger than anything she would find in a typical, human house. A bed made for oversized males and their mate. Her hands came to her chest, her heart filling with wonder.
She peered out the wide window, looking down at the dusk-lit water. Lantern lights suddenly illuminated, dotting the dock, just as a familiar yacht moved into position for docking. Reflected in the glass, she spotted Oycher and Terje misting simultaneously behind her.
“How?” She dropped her hands, turning to face them. “You picked my perfect house out of my mind.”
Oycher took off his glasses, reaching for her. “My ability with you comes and goes. After passing on thirteen multi-million dollar houses, I had to concentrate really hard to find what my Nevesta needed.”
Terje walked behind her, fitting his big chest around her back. “I’ve lived in Norwegian palaces and Oycher’s lived in castle-worthy Russian strongholds, but no opulence can compare to your happiness. If this place makes you happy, we’ll be happy.”
“And we’re going to fix it up, together?”
“Oh, you could probably give me incentive,” Oycher whispered, brushing his lips over hers. “Thankfully, we have the boat close by. You’ve never encountered paint fumes with your newer, more-sensitive nose. To a vampire, fresh paint is unbearable.”
She believed him. Passing the dumpster outside The Blue Pelican had nearly sent her heaving over a toilet. “So, about this gigantic bed.”
“What about this gigantic bed?” Terje reached around, filling his hands with her breasts. “You want to break in the bedroom now? You’re still required to preform your wifely duties, once that full moon sets high. All that activity makes for some sore pussy.”
She laughed at his crudeness. “Are you promising me or warning me?”
He had her on the bed before she could blink, his hand gripping the back of her head with a fist of hair. “I can’t be gentle, Isladora. Any other time, yes, but not tonight.”
“I know.” Her instincts understood why. She was going to face his werewolf, take his oversized cock inside her body. Terje was going to mark her in the way Oycher had, and her own only surpassed his anticipation. And she wanted it, the hard pounding against her ass, his primal fucking claiming her in the way werewolves do. How could she not? “We can call this,” she said patting the bed, “our warm up.”
“Warm up?” Oycher said, flicking his eyes between them. “I wouldn’t mind a warm up myself.”
Isla’s fangs sharpened, nearly slicing her tongue. Oycher looked at her knowingly. She wanted a crimson kiss, but it was Terje who delivered it. He slashed his mouth over hers, twining his tongue between her lips, and she bit down. Though prepared, he shivered marginally. She had no endorphins yet to give with her bite, so all Isla offered was pain. But Terje wanted to share everything with her, including his life force. His blood exploded on her palate, freezing air and winter seas. Isla suckled, pulling his tongue deeply into her mouth, savoring the warmth of his body. She tightened her hold on his shoulders in the way vampires clamp their prey. Terje reveled in her new fierceness, gripping her thighs roughly and spreading them wide.
Oycher stood over the bed, his dick hard in his hand, stroking, biding his time while enjoying the view. She watched him while she fed on Terje. You are next, her eyes said. He smiled, slanting his head and exposing the velvety expanse of his throat. Terje’s fingers found her secrets, and he trailed them through her damp folds.
Oycher’s phone rang.
An uncompromising shrill that refused to be ignored. “Hell,” he groaned, putting his beautiful cock away, “I have to get this. It’s one of my Vojaks. Yeah, Sixten?” He straightened. “No shit? I’ll meet you over there. Sure, give me five.”
Isla released her crimson kiss, licking her lips. “You’re leaving?” She already missed him, but she refused to make Oycher feel guilty over his duty.
“No, we’re leaving.” He helped her up, yanking her dress down and running his long fingers through her mussed hair. “Perfect as always.”
“What’s going on?”
“Pack security brought in an unclaimed Donor, saving him or her from a grave situation,” Oycher explained quickly. “The doc is checking out the Donor now. He called Sixten since his wife had gone through similar circumstances. They are at the Donor complex now.”
They’d saved someone? She clasped her hand over her mouth, emotion pummeling her like stones. “Let’s go,” she said, gripping Terje’s hand so she could follow him to Sanibel Island. Then, she dug in her heels.
“What is it?” Terje asked, lifting her chin with his finger.
“My fangs are still unpredictable. One second they’re in, the next out.” She ran her fingers over the sharp edges, hoping Terje’s blood was gone. “What if I freak the Donor out?”
Oycher kissed the top of her head, and they dissolved into mist. “Then you'll wait for the next one that's found.”
The Species vampire Isla recognized as Dr. Dru Holt emerged from the largest examination room, clicking the door closed behind him. “Hey, Commander and family,” he said in way of greeting, clapping Oycher on the shoulder. His golden brown hair and warm eyes hidden beneath glasses made him appear almost human, even to Isla’s immortal sight.
“Doc,” Terje greeted him, spotting Dax and Flynn in the corner. “Give me a minute, baby.” He kissed Isla’s forehead and walked to his fellow werewolves.
“So,” Oycher got down to brass, “is it a boy or a girl?”
“Male,” Dru disclosed, “in his mid-twenties. He’s finally resting so you’ll have to talk to him later. Dax found him personally inside a,” he stopped, glancing at Isla.
He was a gentleman, she thought. Old world respect and charm rolled into one. Dru was sensitive to her past situation, but she wouldn’t be here without the insistence of Pack and fearless vampire mercenaries. “It’s okay.” She waved her hand at the closed door. “If he went through it, and is still standing, surviving, then I can listen and help.”
Dru shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall. “He was a Blood Pet in an underground crime line that Dax says we’ve not put on the map.”
“Something new?” Oycher asked, concerned yet all business.
Dru nodded. “And dangerous, even for our kind.”
Isla couldn't imagine. “What are we talking about?”
Oycher held up a hand, and Dru excused himself, “I need to check his blood samples. And Seanmháthair Eir needs to have a word with me regarding what’s necessary in his accommodations. Nice seeing you, Isladora, I’m sure we’re going to work well together.” He smiled and walked to the corridor leading to their small in-house lab.
“Why did you do that?” Isla felt her fangs drop. She rubbed her tongue over them and sliced it open.
He pulled her in for a kiss, his saliva melding her split flesh as he tasted her blood. After a fashion, Oycher reminded, “You have a job, and so do I.” He picked up her hands and squeezed them gently between his. “Let’s not cross lines, Isla. I could never live, if anything else were to happen to you.”
“So I have to stay out of Vojak affairs.” She eyed his throat, her stomach rumbling. “Okay, I understand. I won’t cross those lines, but you can’t interfere in my work, either.”
“We’ll see,” he said cryptically. “Depends on how handsome your new Donor is.”
A beautiful woman reminiscent of a wartime pinup girl with a voom-voom body pushed Haley’s wheelchair straight up to Oycher. “Hey, Mind Stalker.”
“Hello, ladies.” He looked down at Haley. “Your color is improving.”
Haley smiled and handed him a toddler girl dressed in pink frills and flowing ribbons.
“Come to Uncle Oycher, Keera.” He bounced her in his big arms. “You’ve grown even prettier than Mommy.” He kissed the wide-eyed girl on her nose, and she patted his chin with sticky hands. “And you,” he said, pulling the voluptuous woman in for a hug, “I think you want me to bite you.”
She flashed eyes the color of cognac. “I’m wondering whose bucket list that’s on, mine or yours?”
Surprisingly, Haley stayed quiet, but Keera clapped her hands, blowing a raspberry. Isla noticed her eyes flickering a moment, glittering in the way of shifters.
“This is my Bride,” Oycher announced with obvious pride, “Isladora.” He drew away from the woman and wrapped his arm around Isla’s shoulders. “Though she goes by Isla.”
Isla kept her eyes on the little girl tugging Oycher’s braids, blurting out, “She’s part shifter.”
“I’m Blythe.” The woman smiled kindly, lifting a hand and shaking Isla’s. “My husband is a halfling, part shifter, part Vojak. Sometimes he’s nuts, but on most days we can call him sane.” She raised both of her hands in a what-can-you-do gesture. “You’ve got yourself an honorable male, here.” She patted Oycher affectionately. “If you ever need advice in handling him, or need to join our female-driven support group for those dealing with domineering males, stroll on over to my place. I understand we’re neighbors on Captiva Island.”
More friends, Isla thought, placing a hand on Haley’s shoulder. “I would love that.”
“Domineering males?” Oycher shook his head at Blythe.