Avet, Danica - Ain't No Bull [The Veil 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) (15 page)

“Did you rest enough yet?”

He was going to strangle her. Grant stood straight, ignoring the heavy ache in his muscles. She was still staring at the ground, but her lips were curled into a smile. The little witch.

“Do you see anything?” he asked, changing the subject. He wasn’t weak, dammit. He’d just have to start working out more. He eyed her ass. He could almost imagine the cardio workouts he’d get with her in bed.

“They came this way.” She stood, frowning to the west. “But the trail stops here. They might have grabbed a portal out, although I don’t get the feel that there was a warmage or demon around here.”

“Couldn’t they have bought a portal spell?”

Isola shrugged, her hands going to her hips in what he was beginning to realize was her thinking pose. “It’s possible, but those things are like,
muy
expensive since warmages have to pool a lot of power into them.” She turned and started walking back towards him. “Did they give you any clues? Mention anything other than Ormond’s name? What were they wearing? Did they look like locals or outsiders?”

Grant grimaced because his brain hadn’t been on what the women were wearing. He hadn’t cared as long as it could be moved to the side or taken off quickly. “Er, they didn’t mention any names. They didn’t even call each other by their names.”

“What about their clothes?”

He rubbed the back of his neck even as he felt blood rush to his ears. “Um, you saw them! Why are you asking me about their clothes?”

She crossed her arms over her chest with a fierce frown. “Maybe because you sat down with them, then drove them here with the express purpose of getting them out of their clothes. I, on the other hand, didn’t get a chance to exchange fashion tips before we started fighting.”

Shit, of course, she was right. He ran a security business. His job was to notice details and he couldn’t remember much. “Er, they were wearing skirts. Short skirts.”

“And?”

“Tight…sparkly shirt things?” He was a man, what did he care about fashion except how it looked on a woman?

Isola closed her eyes and he knew she was counting to ten. Or maybe a hundred because she kept them closed for a while. “Look, I have to ask you this—are you fucking with me?” Her eyes opened, revealing Isola in a full temper. “Seriously dude, are you playing here? Because this sounds like bullshit to me. Pun intended.”

“Of course not!”

“Then explain to me how a reasonably intelligent male can’t remember a single thing about the
six
women he was going to fuck two nights ago! Were you drunk?”

Grant was getting pissed. “No.”

“Had you taken any sexual enhancement potions?”

He saw red. “No fucking way, babe; I don’t need them.” His voice was low and dangerous, but she didn’t seem to notice. She paced in front of him, hands still on her hips.

“Something’s not right,” she muttered under her breath. She came to a sudden stop, her head coming up sharply. “Did they touch your skin, your clothing?”

Grant hiked one of his eyebrows at her. “Of course they did. They were crawling all over me.”

Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits and he felt a moment of triumph. His inner adolescent male wanted to pump his fist in the air. She was jealous! He fought the urge down although he couldn’t help the smile that teased his lips. She was j-e-a-l-o-u-s.

She spun on her heel and started back towards the Black Dog Camp. “Did you wash your clothes yet?”

He didn’t move for a while, watching her walk away from him. Gods that was a view he could get used to just so long as she came back. “Uh, no, not yet.”

“Good.”

She didn’t speak again the entire trek back to the truck. Her strides were just as energetic and long as they’d been when they started out that morning. Grant thought about shifting to his bull form since it would make the walk a little easier, but didn’t want to miss the chance to talk to her.

“Did you grow up in the Blood Maiden Tribe?” he asked after about fifteen minutes of silence. He wondered where the carefree chatterbox of two nights ago had gone. He missed her endless talking.

“No.”

When she said no more, Grant pressed. “How long have you been with them?”

She kicked a log out of her way. The cold suited her, bringing out the rose in her cheeks. The snow was a perfect backdrop for her dark hair and alabaster skin. If he were a more sentimental man, he’d think she looked like a snow princess or something romantic like that. As it was, he just wanted to push her up against a tree and fuck her blind.

“I’ve been with them for about twenty-eight years.” The muttered sentence reminded him he was trying to learn more about her—and not from the inside out.

“Oh. Where were you before that?” He really was curious. He hadn’t realized Amazons wandered from tribe to tribe. He thought they stayed in their family groups.

“I moved around a lot,” was all she said, her tone clearly stating she did not want to have this conversation.

Interesting. He decided to change the subject. “Ricky and I saw you had bear claw scars. Is that why you don’t like bears?”

She stopped dead in her tracks, her head tilting to the side. “Why do you ask?”

There was caution in her voice, caution and a thread of fear? Why would she be scared of a question? Grant strode up next to her to see that her face had paled to the color of the snow at their feet. Her pupils were pinpricks of black in the cloudy brown of her eyes.

“Shit, are you okay?” His hands circled the tops of her arms, pulling her into his body. There was a faint tremble in her limbs as though she was experiencing shock.

To witness her change from badass Amazon tracker to frightened female made Grant want to tear someone’s head off. He’d figured there was some trauma in her past—what else could account for her fainting at the sight of Ricky? But he hadn’t thought the mere memory of it could send her spinning out of control.

Because out of control she was, burrowing deeper into his body instead of fighting him off as she normally would. Sorry to have caused such a strong woman to seek solace, Grant rocked her in his arms, letting her pull warmth and security from him.

It was a moment out of time. He held her, not as a potential lover, but as a woman with hurts that still caused her pain. Grant had never felt that kind of connection with a woman before, always leaving his lovers before anything could develop. Of course, none of them had been his mate, he reminded himself as he inhaled the sweet rose scent of Isola.

Grant didn’t know how long he stood there holding his mate, but he adored every minute of it. She fit perfectly against him, her curves molding to his harder frame.

Her shudders trickled away bit by bit until she was still. The movement of her breasts against his chest the only indication that she was a sentient being. As though his body understood the crisis had ended, his cock hardened against her soft belly.

He stared over her head, trying to think of anything to cool the lust scalding him from the inside out. Baseball, meat eaters, Ricky in a pink tutu. Nothing worked.

Right when his body reached melting point, she pulled away from him. She ducked her head low as though embarrassed by her weakness, but he couldn’t deny that her show of vulnerability touched something deep inside him. Even more important though, was the feeling of satisfaction that she’d taken comfort from him.

“Isola,” he rasped, grabbing her hands and giving them a little shake to encourage her to look up at him. “I’m sorry about whatever happened. Maybe if you talked about it—”

She broke away, her usual cockiness making its appearance. “Thanks, Dr. Phil, but I’m a hard nut to crack.” Her smile was as false as his great-grandfather’s teeth and just as scary. “Let’s get back to your house. I have a theory about those nymphs.”

Chapter Fifteen

She was an idiot. Other people had said so. From her mother with the “incident” to Saga, Izzy had been called an idiot several times, but she’d never applied that tag to herself until now. If it wouldn’t have looked so obvious, she’d have banged her head on the nearest tree trunk.

Had she really let the minotaur…comfort her? She closed her eyes, praying for the ground to open and swallow her whole. Grant wasn’t the kind of male a woman could show the least bit vulnerability around. She’d already passed out in front of him once, dammit, and she’d nearly done it again.

She stopped dead in her tracks, frowning ahead.

“What is it?” Grant asked, stepping up next to her. His eyes narrowed as he studied the woods.

Izzy tilted her head to the side without replying. She had a thought she needed to pursue and Grant couldn’t come with her. Ignoring him for the moment, she narrowed her concentration inward. Since coming to
Wyoming
, she’d fainted once and nearly fainted another time. What caused it? It couldn’t be Grant. He was hot yeah, but he wasn’t sucking the air out of the atmosphere or anything.

She was pretty sure she wasn’t dying of something. She felt perfectly fine other than the bear-induced fainting episodes. Frowning in thought, she centered herself, or tried to. Most Amazons managed without a problem, but Izzy had always had trouble finding her center. That’s why her spirit walk had taken such a disastrous turn. She pulled back her lips in a snarl at the thought. Not gonna think about it. Nope.

Her eyes screwed shut in concentration. Her spirit teetered before settling in. Peace washed through her body, the sounds of the snow-hushed woods filtering through her soul. Tension flowed from her limbs, leaving her loose and relaxed. That’s when she heard the spell attached to her psyche sing.

“Isola?”

Damn bull was a pain in her ass! Her eyes snapped open and she glared up at him. She would not let the concern in his face sway her. No way, Jose Cuervo. But damned if he didn’t look cute with his tousled blond hair and solemn blue eyes. She caught her dreamy sigh before it escaped and scowled at him.

“Do you mind? I’m tryin’ to get in touch with my fuckin’ spiritual self here.”

She shouldn’t have wanted to melt at the quirk of his sexy lips, but she did. She was pretty sure the snow was melting under her feet she was so hot for him. Why did he have to have such a good sense of humor? Bastard.

“Your ‘fuckin’ spiritual self,’ huh?” That drawl was lethal, she was sure of it.

“Yeah, you know to figure out when, how, and why someone attached a terror spell to me.”

The sympathy melted from his handsome face, replaced by dark anger. “A terror spell?” Ooh, that growl left her nipples hard and tingling.

Suppressing a shudder, Izzy nodded. “It magnifies a person’s natural fear.” She waved her hand. “Let’s get back to your house. There’s some shit I need to check into.”

“How?” he demanded. At her blank expression, he waved a hand back the way they had just come. “How did you know they took a portal? How do you know someone put a spell on you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, managing to look both sexy and threatening. Hubba, hubba for Alpha males, she thought. “And how did you find a trail I couldn’t see?”

“Because I’m amazingly cute and smart?”

He deepened his stance, his feet spread apart. He looked like an unmovable wall. Of course, if she really wanted to move him, she could, but he was kind of cute when he was getting all growly. “Isola.” She really shouldn’t take such pleasure in him using her full name. She usually hated it. “Are you paying attention to me at all, woman?”

“Hm?”

“Gah!” He thrust one big hand through his hair, his growl of frustration sounding eerily similar to Saga’s. “How do you know all of this stuff?”

“I’m an Amazon, Grant.” She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean we’re just über-sexy chicks who run around in tight clothes and fight, you know. We’re Veilerians, too. We have a special skill set that helps us remain competitive with the shifters and magical beings.” She flung her hand to the side where she could see the vague outline of a very old battlefield. “I know that spot over there is probably where your great-great-grandfather fought to secure this land.” She looked the other way. “I know that if you follow this trail, you’ll find your cousin Ricky and his latest lady love getting busy in a line shack.” She pointed back the way they’d just come. “And I know that those nymphs had to have taken a portal or been flown out of here because their trail stops in this dimension. Wherever they went, however they went, they left this plane, which means we’re dealing with something other than pissy nymphs.”