As soon as Mr. Simms sees me, he gets up, tail wagging excitedly. I stride to him, pulling a treat from my pocket as I talk to Jax. “Maxime is taking his breakfast in bed, and I think he’ll want a light, refreshing lunch. Is that ok?”
So far, Jax has been very flexible about the family’s tendencies to change the food plan for the day. They eat at different times and only ever have a meal together occasionally. They usually eat in bursts of twos and threes, and only twice this month have they requested a meal in the family dining room. If one of them is craving something, they request it, and if Jax has the ingredients, she makes it. The only time she told any of the family no in the last month was Reeves, and the reason was because of a recall on one of the key ingredients. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he gave up before the words even passed his lips.
“I got it. I’ll prep some fresh salads that he enjoys.” Her brusque tone is completely ruined by the fact that her speaking voice is nearly as high pitched as Minnie Mouse’s.
“Thank you,” I say, reaching into my pocket when my phone buzzes.
I pull it out and check the doorbell camera. Someone is standing on the stoop with their back to the camera, so I excuse myself and head to the door with Mr. Simms on my heels. I pull open the front door, and an extremely short man of some mixed Asian heritage spins to look up at me. He’s decked out like a goth god with black ripped jeans and a fishnet shirt paired with fingerless leather motorcycle gloves. He wears a black utility belt with bulging pouches and an abundance of silver chains around his neck. His eyes are lined with kohl in carefully drawn wings that look like they were done by a professional, and his blue-highlighted black hair is made up like he’s the emo member of a K-pop boy band in a rom-com yaoi anime.
“Hello, welcome to Chez Gargouille. How can I help you?” No one told me that they were expecting a visitor, but based on how this man is dressed, I suspect that Maxime hired another person and forgot to tell me.
“Well, aren’t you cuter than a freckled cock.”
Holy smokes. What is up with this day? The man’s voice is deeper than Thoren’s, but he speaks with an accent that sounds a bit southern, but maybe less Georgia and more Arkansas? I really do need to get laid, because even his crass compliment does things to me. That or I’m still in full raging libido mode after my encounter with Thoren.
Without giving me a chance to respond, the deep bass of his voice continues to pummel my sex drive. “You’re definitely fuckable, and if you’re interested in a little fun, I’m available after my meeting with Maxime.”
“I see. Please come in.” I latch onto my professional skill and ignore the offer, focusing on the meeting with Maxime. Stepping out of the doorway, I allow the man to enter, closing the door behind him. “Who should I say is calling?” I ask politely.
The man smirks at me, and it’s full of promise. “I’m Darcy Hellspinner. And you?”
Damn. That confidence issexy. “Dec,” I reply, gesturing for him to follow.
As I lead him to the sitting room, Darcy whistles. “This might be the best view I’ve had since I turned in the bounty on a bunny down in Louisiana. Purdy from the front and sexy from the back, ain’tcha?”
I’m so glad my flaming face is turned away from him. Unfortunately, I don’t manage to keep the whispered, “Fuck,” from making it past my lips.
He laughs, deep and wicked. “That is what’s on offer, sweetcheeks.”
I take a deep breath, pull my professional demeanor as tightly around me as possible, and open the door to the sitting room. “Please wait here while I inform Maxime of your arrival.”
Darcy shoots me a hot wink, making himself comfortable in an armchair that dwarfs him, yet he manages to take the whole thing up with his ego. I shake my head at myself as I shut the door to the sitting room, trotting back to the kitchen with Mr. Simms to prepare Maxime’s breakfast, refreshments for Darcy, and to cool my ridiculous libido.
It’s flattering he thinks I’m fuckable, but there’s no way I’m going there. He’s not exactly on my bingo card for this year.
Although my dick seems to think that maybe sex with a certain Staiano should be added since we’re playing anyway.
I’ve really got to get Thoren out of my head.
Chapter eight
Thoren
(The number of times I’ve embarrassed myself is getting out of hand)
Iam a terribleperson, and I am not sorry at all for dropping those cards in Dec’s path. The view alone is worth the pain in the ass that the cards are being about him. Most men do not have an ass that jiggles like that, and yeah, it’s probably because he’s got a little rabbit shifter in his ancestry, but over the last month, I’ve convinced myself that that just makes it better. If he’s not fully human, he can probably see magic, if it’s introduced to him correctly, and—
“Oh my fuck. I am not thinking about a future with the butler. I am not thinking about a future with anyone at all. I am not going to find a mate on this planet,” I hiss at the cards, smacking the pouch I keep them in. They’ve taken to launching themselves in Dec’s path since his arrival, and as much as I love the view—and I do so love that view—this needs to stop. I am clearly losing my mind if I’m planning out magic-reveals to a mostly-human.
The cards are completely unaffected by my demonstration of superior strength. They’re barely sapientcards; the only reasonthey can even give me the sass they do is because I’ve been imbuing them with blood magic for almost two hundred years; they certainly can’tfeelme smack their pouch.
The scent of volcanic fire and blood magic fills the corridor as I approach Uncle’s train room. Only one person I know smells like that. A smile stretches across my lips as I knock on the door and enter the train room, spotting Darcy Hellspinner sitting on the back of the sofa watching Uncle’s trains as they scoot down the tracks.
“Darcy! It’s good to see you,” I greet him, offering him my hand.
I genuinely like this man; he’s the best tracker I’ve ever seen, smart as a whip, and a fun guy to hang out with during our down time. We don’t always see eye to eye about insignificant things, but when it comes to important things, we’re usually on the same page.
“Thoren, it’s good to see you. Big and buff as ever, I see. When’re you going to shift into someone more appropriately sized for Earth? You know humans are smaller than that.” He waves at my totally normal six and a half feet.
