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

The Veil 4

DANICA AVET

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

Fucking Wyoming. Of all places to be exiled to, why couldn’t it be Maui, or
Palm Beach
? Somewhere tropical with lots of half-naked men waiting to be spanked? No, she ended up here. Where it was cold as hell and there probably wasn’t a male in a fifty-mile radius good at cleaning. Mumbling to herself, Isola “Izzy” Malone got out of her Tahoe and grabbed her duffle bag out the cargo area.

Snow crunched under her feet as she stalked to the longhouse. The Black Dogs had abandoned this camp thirty years earlier, leaving behind shells of buildings. Stomping inside the structure Izzy groaned and dropped the bag. Fucking wonderful. Cobwebs the size of demons decorated the corners of the building, thirty years of dust had accumulated on the floors, and there was a big hole in the roof. The pile of snow that had settled inside was nearly as tall as she was.

Sniffing the air cautiously, Izzy determined that no other Veilerians had crashed there recently, though the sweet smell of marijuana lingered in the air. Kids hiding out for a toke, she figured. They’d be surprised if they showed up again because there was no way she’d let a bunch of snot-nosed brats interrupt her piss-off time.

A wolf howled in the distance, making her feel homesick.
Wyoming
was a far cry from south
Louisiana
. At this time of night, she’d be on her way to
Lafayette
to watch some man candy with her best friends at her side. But she wasn’t, all because of a fucking song she shouldn’t have played.

Izzy kicked the wall, making the longhouse shudder. Spitting out a curse, she grabbed her bag. She’d sleep in the SUV tonight, and tomorrow she’d clean up the building, repair the roof, and ready herself for a long, boring year.

* * * *

The nymphs were ready for action. The come-hither looks on their beautiful faces set his libido into overtime. If there was one thing a minotaur couldn’t refuse, it was a hot woman who was ready for a roll. Multiply that hot woman by five and he’d be in nirvana the rest of the week. They’d approached him, all six of them, while he was having a few drinks with his employees, and now he followed them from Duffy’s like any red-blooded male would.

Grant waved at his employees with a smug smile. The nymphs hadn’t made any secret of what they wanted when they’d surrounded him at the table. He’d had one on each knee and the rest stroking parts of his body for nearly an hour. He was ready.

Duffy, the demon lord who owned the place, shot Grant a dirty look as he polished the hardwood of his bar. Since it was the only bar in Eustis, Wyoming, Duffy pretty much made up his own rules and didn’t give a shit if the bar was one of the ugliest buildings in town. Grant winked at the demon just as he slammed the door shut, knowing it would irritate him.

The little beauties crowded closer to him as he led them to his truck, his dick hardening with every step. Luckily, the nymphs were petite because they had no trouble piling into his King Cab F-450. Pleased with the upcoming orgy action, Grant relaxed for the first time in months as he drove to the perfect spot. The old Amazon camp was always empty, and with no one around, they could make as much noise as they wanted.

The females cooed over his muscles and the size of his chest as he struggled to concentrate on the road. They marveled at his height and stroked his ego like professionals. Grant groaned as one of them stroked more than his ego. Oh yeah, this was turning out to be the best night ever.

Just that morning his bid to provide security for the Veilerian Ball had gone through. The good press would bring Strickland Securities to the masses. His goal to have the leading protection agency in the Veil was right on track and he couldn’t have been happier.

“Ladies, ladies,” he said with a smirk as two of them slapped at each other. “There’s more than enough of me to go around.”

“Mm, I just bet, minotaur,” the nymph in the passenger seat purred, her eyes trained on his crotch.

“I love how big you are,” another said, this one a redhead with gigantic breasts. “How big are you as a bull?”

“Where are we going? Will it take long to get there?” one of the blondes asked, her bright eyes meeting his in the rearview mirror.

Grant chuckled at her impatience even as he pulled into the old Black Dog Camp. “We’re already here, babe. This is an old Amazon camp. They left Eustis years ago, so we have it all to ourselves.”

He pulled to a stop in the middle of camp. The females were sexy, but he didn’t trust them in his pastures. His peace and quiet was almost as important to him as his company, and the only ones who ruined it on a regular basis were his sisters and mother.

Grant had a female wrapped around his waist the minute he got out of the truck. He laughed, rubbing her ass as he led the others towards the longhouse.

“Could you change for us?” one of the nymphs asked in a breathless voice.

It wasn’t the first time a female asked him that. There was something about the minotaur’s human size that made women want to see him in his animal form. He sighed, deciding to indulge them. Setting his passenger on the ground, he stepped back.

The change came swiftly. At a hundred and fifty-eight, Grant was an old hand at shifting. All three shapes came to him easily, though he rarely ever used the half-man, half-bull form for anything. His body thickened, his horns extended, and his hands tightened into hooves. His clothing peeled away from his new form, falling to puddle on the ground. The females made soft gasping sounds of appreciation as he became the bull.

Their little delicate hands stroked over his black hide, caressed the length of his horns, and tickled the ring through his septum. He snorted, stamping his hooves. He hated anyone touching the ring, which wasn’t surprising since the ring could easily incapacitate him.

He was just about to change back to lead the women to the longhouse when one of those little hands grabbed the ring and tugged. Tears burned his eyes at the sharp pain. He instinctively tried to shift back to his human form, but couldn’t concentrate with the pressure on the ring.

“Finally,” the nymph said with a snarl. “Let’s get his ass to the ceremony site before Master Ormond comes looking for us.”

The women flowed around him, following the little bitch leading him across the Black Dog Camp.

Shit, he was in trouble. Again. All because of his dick. His employees were still at the bar thinking their boss was playing a half dozen rounds of giddy-up. His sisters were probably picking out the cow-swans they wanted to introduce him to. He was on his own and incapacitated. Fuck.

His ears flickered back and forth as he searched the night for any kind of aid. If there was one thing his father had taught him before kicking him out of the herd, it was never to be too proud to ask for help.

The nymphs led him across the open center of the old camp, heading north. They were quiet, though the grip around his ring never relaxed. What did they want with him anyway? He wasn’t an important person, living quietly on his land. Maybe they were with a rival security company. His work for the Ball was a prime job, one most people would kill to get. The other agencies he’d been up against were big hitters with a lot more experience, but Strickland Securities had won.

A soft hiss broke the silence. Rolling his eyes, he saw a tall figure standing in the darkness of the longhouse. Grant couldn’t tell if it was male or female, but the height made him think it had to be a man. He almost let out a moo of relief as the nymphs stopped dead in their tracks.

“Well, well, what’s this?” a husky voice asked, sending shivers down Grant’s spine. “Is this a housewarming gift? ’Cause I gotta tell ya, there’s nothing I love more than sautéed bull balls.”

Grant’s hope for rescue died a harsh, swift death and his balls shrank into his body. Holy shit.