Avet, Danica - Ain't No Bull [The Veil 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) (12 page)

Closing his eyes to keep from doing just that, he concentrated on the words bouncing over his head as more and more shifters demanded a chance to talk to her. It wouldn’t kill him to let them meet her. He did want Isola to be comfortable here. She’d already earned their respect by kicking Lisa’s ass.

Before he’d let them talk to her though, he’d have to stake a claim. Eyeing the satiny soft skin beneath her ear, he longed to take a bite even though he’d told her minotaurs didn’t bite. It had been a truth at the time, but after watching her fight, after smelling her rosy musk, he was tempted to do as his wolf, cat, and bear cousins did and leave his mark on her.

Hell, his mouth was watering at the idea.

Someone bumped into him. “Move out of the way, lad, we want to meet the Amazon,” a Scottish-accented voice said from behind him.

Grant leaned his forehead on the top of Isola’s head, wishing the rest of the shifters would go away so he could woo his female. But the persistent tapping him on his shoulder told him they wouldn’t leave her alone until matters were settled.

He knew who the shifter was. The male worked for Grant once in a while when he needed extra muscle on the job, but right now, Nelson Anders was a male trying to horn in on Grant’s territory.

Pressing a soft, butterfly kiss to the crown of Isola’s head, Grant took a deep breath. And shifted into his minotaur form, a roar of possessive rage escaping him as he whirled to face the threat to his female.

Chapter Twelve

Izzy sipped yet another drink with outward calm. She wasn’t going to look behind her to see Grant tearing the bar apart. No she wasn’t. Because if she did, she’d forget all about that “m” word his mother had tossed around and grab that big bull by the horns. The wet heat between her legs was ready for him, for everything he could give her, but her head wouldn’t let her give in. Ever.

The scars on her back throbbed with each beat of her heart, a harsh reminder of what happened when you got close to a shifter with a protective family. She didn’t need to relearn the lesson with a horn in her ass. Grant was off-limits. Which is probably why I want him so much, she thought with a snort.

She frowned at her drink. “Duffy, I don’ shink thish drink is working,” she slurred at the demon.

He grunted at her. “Why?”

“’Cause I can still shink straight.”

Ricky, who’d stayed behind while Grant fought, laughed loudly. “I think that’s your problem, missy,” he shouted over the roars and snarls filling the bar. “You don’t think at all. What did you imagine these shifters would do when you walked in with that petting zoo line?”

Izzy shrugged. “It was better to have them pished off and not thinking than rational and able to smell how closh I was to wetting my pants.” She finished the broken drink.

“So you were scared?” Duffy grunted as he plunked another Atomic Bomb in front of her.

“Shit yeah,” she slurred, swigging back some of the fresh drink. “Ahh, this is the besh drink, Puffy.”

“It’s Duffy, lady.”

“Dash what I shaid. Puffy. Any-hoo, I might have shelf-control issues, but I’m not shtupid. Shtupid.” She frowned. “Dash a funny word. Shtupid.”

The sounds behind her were dying down, but she still refused to look.

“Why won’t you look?” Ricky asked her curiously.

Izzy blinked up at him, really seeing him for the first time. “Yer hawt, Ricky!” she exclaimed loudly, nearly falling from her stool in stunned amazement. “Yer a hawt honey bear.” She laughed at herself.

He rolled his eyes, though the tips of his ears turned red. “Why won’t you look behind you?”

“How did you know I won’t look?” she demanded. The last she’d heard, bears couldn’t read minds.

“Bears can’t read minds, Isola.”

She gasped in shock.

Ricky sighed. “You said it out loud,” he told her patiently.

“Oh.” She relaxed on her stool again, her ears attuned to the noisy fighting behind her. She hoped Grant wasn’t getting hurt. She really wasn’t sure she could fight after two of Duffy’s drinks in her.

“Isola?” Ricky prompted, nudging her with his hip.

She swayed on her stool and frowned at him. “Huh?”

He gave a long sigh. “Why won’t you look to see what Grant is doing?” he asked her slowly and clearly.

“Oh,” Izzy said again, trying to remember why it wasn’t a good idea. She tapped her fingers on the top of the bar. Then she snapped her fingers, or tried to. She attempted it two more times before Ricky’s hand covered her tangled fingers. “Caush ish not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Izzy glared at the nosy bear. “Caush then I’ll want to fuck him, and thash against my vows.”

* * * *

Grant was breathing hard. Blood trickled down his face from various cuts, his ribs were cracked, and his knuckles swollen and bruised. But at least the bastards knew where they stood in Isola’s life—nowhere.

Wiping blood out of his eye with the back of his hand, Grant shifted to his human form. He was sore, he was tired, and he was horny.

And that’s when he heard Isola slur that she’d want to fuck him even though it was against her vows.

The erection that he’d been sporting before the brawl had eased, but at those words, it sprang right back to attention harder and more painful than before. Some of the shifters he’d just beat the shit out of perked up at her words, but with one severe glance and a deep growl, they looked away from the tempting figure slumped on the barstool.

Ricky was laughing, tears streaming down his face as he used one finger to keep Isola from falling off her stool. Duffy’s face was impassive as usual, though there was the hint of a smile in his eyes. Grant stomped over to the bar as forcefully as he could with his injuries.

“We’re leaving,” he announced loudly, causing his lip to start bleeding again. That was romantic, he snorted to himself and looped Isola’s arm around his neck.

She slipped off the stool, her body falling flush against his. The soft curves of her breasts pressed into his chest, making his ribs ache, but he didn’t give a shit. If it were up to him, she would be plastered to him at all times.

“I’m not ready to leave,” she mumbled, looking up at him with those big brown eyes. Her face was flush from the drink and though the sweat from her fight had long dried, tendrils of her hair stuck to her face. This was probably what she looked like after a hot and heavy round of sex, he thought, his cock twitching with anticipation. “I wanna ’nother drink.”

“I don’t think you should have another,” he answered, ignoring Ricky’s shaking shoulders as he laughed.

Her face turned mutinous, the corners of her mouth tightening with impending temper. “You don’ tell me whatta do.”

Grant sighed. “I’m not telling you what to do, sweetheart. I’m just tryin’ to get you home before you fall flat on your face.”

She waved her hand under his nose, smacking him in the jaw. “I can hannle my liq—3 She slumped against him, snoring.

Looking down at the sexy, inebriated Amazon in his arms, Grant smiled. “How much did she drink?” he asked Duffy as he lifted her against his chest.

The demon lord looked at the ceiling as he counted. “Five Atomic Bombs, which is a record.” His eyes lowered to pin Grant in place. “She’s a good woman, Grant Strickland. Don’t be fucking with her like you do your other pretties.”

Grant’s neck burned with a blush as the demon lord gave him a dark look. He’d slept with Duffy’s great-niece one time, but she’d seduced
Grant
, not the other way around. Duffy didn’t see it that way and it was a wonder the demon didn’t bar Grant from entering his place.

“I’m trying to get her to mate with me,” he mumbled softly, though not softly enough as Ricky’s eyes widened in surprise.

His cousin looked between Grant and Isola, then back again. “Are you serious? Your mom’ll freak out!”

Grant shrugged and began making his way through the shifters still on the ground with his tender burden in his arms. He knew his mom would have a fit. It didn’t matter, though. Isola was perfect for him. He hadn’t planned on finding a mate so soon, hell, everyone knew that, but he hadn’t counted on running into an Amazon with a lot of sass and the balls to stand up for herself.

Ricky was following him, nudging fallen men to make sure they were still breathing. “She’s nothing but trouble, Grant.” He took in the destruction his normally calm cousin had created. “You’ve never lost your temper as much in your entire life as you have since you met her.”

Pushing his way outside, Grant started for his truck. “True, but I’ve never had a mate before.”

“You don’t have one now,” Ricky pointed out logically. “Did you forget about her vow of chastity? Amazons don’t take things like that lightly. And even if she agreed, what happens when you start building your harem? Do you think that little firecracker is gonna be okay with that?”

Grant put Isola in the passenger seat of his truck, fastening the seatbelt around her. Her scent drove him mad. It lingered on his clothing and in his nose after he closed the door. Turning to his cousin, he crossed his arms and tried not to show the nervousness he felt. He’d made his decision and no one was going to talk him out of it.

“I can change her mind about the vow, if she actually did make one. And as for the harem, I’m not taking one. I don’t need a harem to carry on the Strickland name.” With that announcement, he stalked around the truck to get in the driver’s seat.

Without looking at the stunned Ricky, he started the engine and left Duffy’s parking lot. Ricky was still standing in the same spot, Grant saw as he glanced in the rearview mirror. Yeah, he’d done more than shock his cousin, he knew. He’d stupefied him and horrified him more than likely. But Grant knew in his heart that his decision was the right one. There would be no others once Isola was his.

As he drove through town back to his land, he tried to think of ways he could break the news to his mom and the old man. Paul Strickland was an old, traditional minotaur and he expected his only son to carry on the family name in grand style by having one of the biggest harems in
Wyoming
. Grant winced at the thought of his father’s disappointment, but he wouldn’t let it deter him.

Isola wasn’t a cow-swan, so she wouldn’t be comfortable with life in a harem. But even if she was okay with it, Grant wasn’t sure he could do it. Just thinking about mating with anyone other than Isola made him sick to his stomach. No, she would be his only mate and she’d love it. He just needed to convince her of that before his pheromones ramped up her fertility cycle because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out the need to take her.

Chapter Thirteen

Izzy was warm and comfortable. Sighing contentedly, she stretched and clutched her pillow tighter. She’d had the most amazing dream, she thought sleepily.

She’d dreamed that she had gone to
Wyoming
, of all places, and met a sexy minotaur who made her forget all about her one attempt at a relationship and how horrible it had turned out. He’d made love to her for hours, treating her like a fragile flower and not a battle-hardened Amazon. It had been simply amazing.

Pressing her cheek against her pillow, Izzy breathed in the scent of male musk and spices. Mmm, sexy. She rubbed her cheek over the pillow, enjoying the friction of hair abrading her cheek. She paused in mid rub. Hair?

Her eyes blinked open, but it took her several seconds before she could focus on anything. She wasn’t in her tent near
Forked Island
,
Louisiana
. No, this was a house. She was in a masculine bedroom that looked familiar. She’d been in it the day before. Or was it the same day? She couldn’t remember, but her jaw ached, and there was a burning pain in her arm. What the hell had happened?