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Authors: Lexi George

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“Wow,” Addy said. “I am so embarrassed.”
Shep's eyes twinkled. “That bad, huh? Gee, thanks, brat.”
Addy shook her head. “I'm embarrassed because I didn't know you could draw stick people, much less paint something so wonderful. My own brother, and I'm clueless.” She glared at Shep. “About a lot of things, apparently. How did you get mixed up with that—that
woman?”
“Lenora?” Shep grinned like a jackass eating briars. “She showed up at Corwin's Saturday night. She's something else, isn't she?”
“She's a barracuda with legs, that's what she is. You be careful.”
Lenora and Brand came back up the porch steps.
“What is this barracuda?” Lenora asked.
The thrall's silky voice crawled all over Addy. “It's a voracious fish with lots of sharp pointy teeth,” she snapped, not bothering to be polite.
Lenora slithered up to Shep. “Your sister does not trust me. She thinks I mean you harm.”
“I know what you are, what you
do,
” Addy said. “You've turned him into some kind of zombie.”
“Nonsense.” Lenora pointed to the canvas. “Could a zombie paint something so passionate, so fierce and full of life? Your brother is quite good, is he not?”
It stuck in Addy's craw to admit it, but the thrall was right. “Yes, he is,” she said gruffly. “So good, I mean to hang that painting in the shop, if he'll let me.”
Shep's expression grew alarmed. “Slow down, sis. That's a big step. I don't know if I'm ready for that.”
“Get ready.” She hurried on, excited by the idea and eager to do something,
anything
to make up for her selfishness. “You haven't signed it. No one will know who did it. You said you wanted to open a studio some day. Lots of people come into the flower shop, people with money. I do business with folks from out in the county, and from Paulsberg and Namath Springs, and I go to market in Atlanta. Here's your chance to see if anyone will buy your work.” She frowned impatiently when Shep remained silent. “Well, don't stand there like a knot on a log. You're the one who wants to be a painter. Put your money where your mouth is, Big Shot.”
“Adara,” Brand said.
Shep laughed. “Don't worry about it. It's just her way.”
“Well?” Addy put her hands on her hips. “Are you a man or a mouse, bro? Come on, I dare you. I double-dog-dare you.”
Shep rubbed his jaw thinking. “Nothing's dry yet, but in a week or two you can have your pick.” He looked down and scuffed his bare foot against the porch floor. “That is, if you like any of them.”
“There are more?” Addy said. “I want to see them now.”
Lenora sank down on the swing, reclining once more against the cushions, all languid grace and sensuality. “I will wait here for you, Shep, my love. I find the river so peaceful.”
Yeah, right. More like the succubus was lounging in the swing planning her next meal.
Addy followed Shep and Brand through the back door and into the den. Canvases in assorted shapes and sizes lined the wall and leaned up against the furniture.
Addy looked around the room in astonishment. “Shep, there must be ten or fifteen paintings here.”
“I've been busy.”
“Busy? You did all of this in the past few days?”
Shep nodded
“Impossible,” Addy said.
“I was inspired.”
Addy moved about the room, examining the paintings. They were all nudes of Lenora. There was
Lenora Reclining, Lenora at the Window, Lenora Looking Over Her Shoulder, Lenora—
yikes! Holy cow, that one must be called
Lenora the Explorer.
“I can see that. They all seem to have a—er—recurring theme.”
Shep blushed. “I was a little hyperfocused on Lenora at first, but she's encouraging me to move on. I told you she is my muse.” He looked anxious. “You can take what you like when they're dry. That is,
if
you like any of them.”
Addy heard the uncertainty in his voice and was touched. Her got-it-all-together big brother didn't have it all together any more than she did, and he was insecure about his painting. She considered the nudes, trying to set aside her natural dislike of the subject matter. Lenora might be a siren from hell, but she had to admit Shep was good. He'd captured Lenora's bewitching beauty and allure. And something else as well, the essence of the thrall. The pouting red lips and curvaceous body promised untold carnal delights, but the world-weary blue eyes held the shadow of loneliness.
“I'll take the landscape and these to start.” She pointed to three of the nudes. “You better come up with a pseudonym, bro. Mama finds out you been painting dirty pictures, she'll scob your knob.”
“Thanks, sis.” Shep grinned. “I owe you one. Say, you going to the Grand Goober tomorrow night?”
Addy groaned. “Oh, Lord. I completely forgot about it. Yes, I'm going.”
“What is this Grand Goober?” Brand demanded.
“It's a formal ball,
the
social event of the year. Kicks off the Hannah Peanut Festival,” Shep said. “The Grand Goober is our biggest fund-raiser. Everybody will be there. Who you going with, sis?”
Addy mumbled something under her breath.
Shep put his hand to his ear. “I'm sorry. Could you say that a little louder?”
“You heard me, Shepton Corwin. I'm going to the ball with Bruce Jones.”
Shep crowed. “Pootie Jones? You've got a date with Pootie Jones?”
“Poo—er—I mean Bruce is lactose intolerant, a problem he fortunately now has under control,” Addy said loftily.
Brand scowled. “Is not ‘date' a term used by humans to signify a social engagement with another person, often one for whom you feel romantic interest?”
“Yep.” Shep was still laughing. It made Addy want to slug him. “I wasn't planning on going to the ball,” he said, “but now I might. Addy has a date with Pootie Jones. Hoo boy, that's rich.”
“No,” Brand said.
The air grew heavy and thick and hard to breathe. A wall of swift-moving dark clouds rolled over the river from the east.
Thunder boomed and lightning crashed over their heads.
Shep ran to the window. “Jesus, I never saw a storm come up so fast.”
Addy laid her hand on Brand's arm. “Relax. It's sweet that you're jealous, but this is something I have to do. Poo—
dammit!
—I mean Bruce is my friend. I promised him months ago I'd go with him. I can't back out on him now. He's counting on me. It would be rude.”
“I am not jealous,” Brand said. “The Dalvahni do not experience jealousy. It is a purely human emotion.”
“Uh huh.”
Shep jumped as another loud rumble of thunder shook the house. “Sounds like the damn storm's right over the house. 'Scuse me a sec. I'd better tell Nora to get off the porch.”
He hurried out of the room, leaving Addy and Brand alone.
Addy sauntered over to Brand and poked him in the chest. “Your little atmospheric disturbance gives you away. Admit it. You're jealous.”
“I am not jealous. I have to protect you. This Pootie human could be the djegrali.”
“Oh.” Addy pretended to think this over. “I'll admit it then. I'm jealous as hell of Elvira out there,
soul man
. What does that mean anyway? Is it thrall for boy toy or something?”
“No one toys with the Dalvahni. Sol' Van is a term of respect. It means ‘most noble Lord.' ”
“Aw, that's so cute in a submissive totally vomitous kind of way.” Addy stroked Brand's hard-muscled chest through the shirt. “Well, Sol baby, since you're not the jealous type, I guess you won't mind if Bruce drives me home tomorrow night and kisses me at the door and—”
Brand grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her. The storm broke with fury over their heads. Rain drummed on the tin roof. By the time he ended the kiss, she was weak in the knees and panting like she'd finished a 5-k run. Another minute and she'd have done him right there on the floor, and if Shep wandered into the room in the middle of it, too bad, too sad, oh Dad.
“Very well, I admit it,” he growled against her lips. “I am jealous. I am consumed with it. The very thought of another man touching you drives me mad. I will allow this Pootie person to escort you to the ball, but
only
if I accompany you. And if he lays so much as a finger on you, I will rip his head off and use it for a chamber pot.”
Maybe it wasn't a vow of eternal love or a promise of happily ever after, but it was darn sure
something.
“Does that make you happy?”
“Damn skippy, ” Addy said.
Chapter Twenty-nine
T
he following night, Addy entered the Hannah Town Hall with Pootie and a second, unseen escort at her side—Brand. At her request, he made himself invisible.
“Bruce is this year's Grand Goober,” she explained. “It's a big whoopee-do deal in Hannah, and I don't want to spoil it for him. He's a nice guy, Brand, and this means a lot to him. He won't understand if you tag along, and I have no intention of trying to explain it to him. Why don't you catch a ride to the ball with Muddy and Mr. C? They've got plenty of room in their car. I know you're trying to keep me safe, but Bruce is harmless, I promise.”
“No,” Brand said. “This I cannot allow. I will accompany you and this Pootie human, or you will not go.”
“Wait a darn minute, bub, you can't tell me—”
He jerked her in his arms and kissed her. Instant lobotomy. Her brain dried up and fell out on the floor. She ought to be ashamed of herself. And she would, too, as soon as her hootie stopped running things.
“Your safety and the safety of those you love may be at stake,” he said when he'd finished kissing her senseless. “I can and I
will
tell you what to do in this instance. The Pootie human will not see me. The Dalvahni have the ability to move among your kind undetected.”
So she went to the Grand Goober Ball with Pootie Jones and the Invisible Man. Problem was
Pootie
might not be able to see Brand, but she sure as shoot knew he was there. She could feel him glowering at her from the backseat. It was like his eyeballs contained little laser beams, and they were burning a hole in the back of her head. Pootie seemed to feel it, too. He kept looking over his shoulder.
“I keep thinking I see something in the rearview mirror,” he said with an edgy laugh. “Little green flames. Crazy, huh? Guess that dog spooked me.”
Poor Pootie. He'd taken her arm as they approached the car, but was drawn up short by a low rumbling growl.
He spun around. “What's that? Sounded like some kind of animal.”
“He is not to touch you,” Brand growled in her ear. The car door swung silently open, and she was lifted in strong, unseen arms and deposited in the seat. “This I cannot allow.”
“Oh, for Pete's sake. He's just being a gentleman.”
Pootie blinked in surprise when he saw her sitting inside the car. “You say something, Addy?”
“I said it was probably the neighbor's dog. We'd better get going if we want to make the lead-out at the dance.”
“Yeah, sure thing.”
Pootie got behind the wheel. But he kept checking the rearview mirror, as if he sensed Brand's presence.
“Rabbit keeps running over my grave,” he confided. “Must be all the excitement.”
They eased into a parking place with a sign that said
RESERVED FOR THE GRAND GOOBER
. Addy flung open her door and scrambled onto the sidewalk as Pootie rounded the car to help her out. He seemed a little taken aback by her lack of manners.
Addy gave him a bright smile. “Sorry, guess I'm a little excited, too.”
Thank goodness Bitsy didn't see her. She'd have gotten lecture number fifty two on entering and exiting an automobile like a Southern lady. She'd flunked that one for sure. A lady waited for her escort to come around and open the car door for her. Once the gentleman opened the car door for her, a lady exited the vehicle with grace, taking care to keep her legs together and offering her date a grateful smile and a murmured thank-you. A lady didn't eject herself out of a car like her drawers were on fire. Most Southern ladies, however, didn't have an invisible ticked-off boyfriend with supernatural powers waiting to beat the snot out of their date if the poor guy laid so much as a finger on them. So, she chucked lesson number fifty-two in favor of saving poor Pootie's life.
The Town Hall was a three-story turn-of-the-century brick warehouse on the west bank of the Devil River, part of the Hannah Riverfront Project, an ambitious plan to revitalize the waterfront over the next two decades. Future plans for the project included provisions for a park, bike and running trails, and an open-air amphitheater. There was even talk of having a riverboat one day, but the first phase of the plan was the Town Hall. The ground floor of the building would one day house the mayor's office and the police department. Right now, though, it was one big open space, just right for a ball. Much better than the high school gym, where the ball had been held for the past four years. Floor-length arched windows overlooked the river, and French doors opened onto a brick veranda with wrought-iron railings. The raw Sheetrock walls had been draped in yards of filmy cloth that gave the room an
Arabian Nights
feel. Twinkle lights sparkled over the windows and in the greenery. Hired for the evening, an orchestra all the way from Mobile played soft music. Tickets sold for $50.00 each, or $90.00 a couple. Everybody who was anybody in Hannah attended the Grand Goober. It was
the
social event of the season.
Mayor Tunstall spotted them as they entered and made his way through the crowd. The mayor was short and round, and reminded Addy of an egg with hair and legs.
“There he is, the Grand Goober himself!” The mayor did a double-take when he saw Addy. “My, my, Addy, you look good enough to eat. I almost didn't recognize you with all that glamorous blond hair.”
His gaze drifted downward and locked on her chest. Good grief, the mayor was a boob man. He was salivating over her girls. Eww. Politicians were almost as creepy as dead people.
He gave her an oily smile. “You've been hiding your light under a bushel basket, young lady. You'll have to save me a dance.”
“No,” Brand said. The single word, deep and full of menace, echoed around the cavernous room, all the more startling because it seemed to come out of nowhere.
The mayor looked at Pootie in surprise. “Pootie, my boy, you mustn't keep this lovely thing all to yourself.”
“It wasn't me, I swear,” Pootie protested. He looked around in alarm. “Must have been somebody else. Maybe they're testing the sound system or something.”
Addy shoved her elbow in the general direction of Brand's voice. She connected with solid flesh and heard a muffled grunt. “Behave,” she hissed.
“I can read his foul thoughts.” Brand spoke in her ear. “If you dance with him, he goes in the river.”
“Oh, for Pete's sake.”
The mayor raised his brows. “What's that, my dear?”
“Oh, nothing.” Addy gave him a dazzling smile. “Thrilled to be here, that's all.”
The mayor beamed back at her. “That's right, as Pootie's date, you get to dance the lead-out. It's a big honor.” The orchestra launched into “Stars Fell on Alabama.” “There's the signal.” He grabbed Bruce by the arm. “Excuse us, Addy. Got to get the Grand Goober ready for his big entrance. We'll be back in a jiffy.”
Mayor Tunstall pulled Pootie across the room and through a door.
“What is this lead-out?” Brand asked.
“It's the first dance of the ball. As the Grand Goober, Bruce gets to open the festivities. As his date, I dance the first dance with him.”
She shivered as she felt Brand come up behind her. Heat radiated off his big body, and his masculine scent, a heady, spicy combination of sandalwood, cedar, and rock rose with a hint of cardamom and pepper, swirled around her until she felt drunk.
He kissed her on the neck. “Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?”
“No, I don't believe you have.”
She swallowed a squeak as he slid his hands around her and cupped her breasts. It took her straight back to that first night, when she thought she was being made love to by a ghost. Had it only been four nights ago? So much had changed.
She
had changed. For one thing, she was about to have a screaming orgasm in a room full of people.
“You are ravishing, a vision, the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he murmured. “I've been rock hard and aching for you all night. I want to slide this indecent scrap of nothing you call a dress over your delectable ass and have hot monkey sex with you. I do not want to share you with anyone, not even this Pootie Jones.”
Sigh. The man sure knew how to sweet-talk a girl. If they were any place else, she'd shuck her panties right then and there, and take him up on his offer.
She reined in her raging hormones and pushed his hands away. “No. You have got to behave, and so do I. It's one dance.” An excited buzz from across the room drew her attention. “And in case you think I'm looking forward to it, look what's coming through the door.”
Clapping and cheering, the crowd lined up on either side of the massive double doors as a tall, bizarre figure entered the ballroom. It was Pootie, the Grand Goober himself, wearing his official costume.
Brand grunted in surprise. “By the sword, what is it?”
Addy sighed. “That's my date. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to dance with the big nut.”
Brand prowled the edge of the ballroom, his eyes fastened on Adara as she moved around the dance floor in another man's arms. Or at least he thought the creature holding Adara was human. He could not be sure. From the shoulders down, the creature looked like a man dressed in the black garb called a tuxedo. But, the thing's head was monstrous, a wrinkled three-foot-high curved pod with large round eyes and a vacuous red-lipped smile. Hideous, as alarming as any demon he'd ever seen. And Adara was twirling around the room with it. He wanted to sweep her off the dance floor and carry her into the night. He longed to cleave the giant pod head in two and leave the smoking halves on the floor as a no-trespassing sign to all other males.
Adara spun closer. She seemed to sense his hot gaze upon her and glanced nervously about, her large brown eyes wide with apprehension. She should be afraid. He was near crazed with jealousy and desire and possessiveness. This was insanity. The Dalvahni did not feel such things.
Yet, he did. That and more.
His hungry gaze fastened upon her as she moved about the room. He had been in a near frenzy of lust since she came out of the bedroom earlier that evening dressed for the ball. The slinky blue gown she wore showed her white skin and pale hair to advantage and clung to her lovely body. The damn garment was so tight, it was a wonder she could breathe, hugging her deliciously rounded bottom and full breasts like a second skin. If not for the high slit on one side that exposed her long legs, she would not be able to move at all. Each step she took offered a tantalizing glimpse of those smooth, elegant limbs, legs she had wrapped around his waist the night before as he moved within her. All the men in the room watched her, panting with desire. He suppressed a snarl as he read their lustful thoughts. He wanted to kill them all.
In the darkness outside the long windows that overlooked the river, lightning flashed in jagged blue-white streaks, illuminating in ghostly gray relief the trees on the opposite shore. The orchestra ended the first song and launched into another. Thunder rumbled over the strains of music. A waltz, his internal guide told him, a voluptuous intertwining of the male and female bodies that was considered obscene and vulgar in the not-so-distant past. And rightly so. The creature with the elongated head dancing about the room with Adara held her much too close. He had one hand at her waist. Brand watched that hand with narrowed eyes. If it moved so much as a finger's breadth closer to Adara's breasts or inched lower by the space of a hair toward her luscious bottom, he would tear the man limb from limb. He would—
“You might as well show yourself, brother,” Ansgar said. “All the growling and rumbling gives you away.”
Brand shed his cloak of invisibility. Evie took a startled step back at his sudden appearance.
Ignoring Ansgar, Brand made Evie a deep bow. “Mistress Evangeline, you are a vision tonight.”
Indeed, she was lovely. Hard to believe this creature with the glorious red hair and lush, hourglass curves was the shy, dowdy woman from the flower shop.
Evie's delicate skin flushed. “Thank you.” She smoothed her hands down her green gown in a self-conscious gesture and slid Ansgar a quick, adoring glance. “This is my first Grand Goober Ball. Ansgar got me this gown and insisted on bringing me along.”
“I told her I would not come without her.” Ansgar surveyed Brand's formal attire with cool indifference. “I see the tailor met your needs as well.”
“Yes, Master Gibbs has been most accommodating.”
“You both look very handsome,” Evangeline said. “All the women are drooling over you.”
Ansgar raised her hand to his lips. “Are there other women here? I had not noticed.”
Her blush deepened. “What a sweet thing to say, even though I know you're only being nice.”
Ansgar gave her a smoldering look. “I assure you, Evangeline, I am neither sweet nor nice.”

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