Avet, Danica - Ain't No Bull [The Veil 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) (3 page)

“We were going to have ourselves a little party,” he shot back with a smile.

She took a step forward, coming into the light. Grant swallowed hard. She wasn’t beautiful. Very girl-next-door with large brown eyes, an upturned nose, and full lips, she looked like she should be doing someone’s homework instead of carrying weapons around and kicking ass. Her gaze drifted over his chest which he couldn’t help but puff out for her perusal. When her eyes settled on his cock, Grant felt it swell.

“Jeez,” she said with a sad sigh. “You really are dumb.”

Incensed, he took a step closer. “The hell I am!”

She waved her knife at him. “Dude, didn’t it occur to you that nymphs can only have one lover, ever? Why would six women want to have sex with the same male when they’d have to share him for the rest of their lives if he even stuck around?”

Oh. Grant scratched the side of his nose. Shit, she was right. He hadn’t thought about that. Of course, all the blood had left his brain when the redhead grabbed his cock through his jeans. He said nothing though. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she was right.

She smirked, her full lips pulling to the side. “It’s okay, you have testosterone poisoning.” She cocked her head to the side. “So why did you let me ride your back?”

When her lips formed the words “ride your,” his brain instantly tagged “cock” on the end of it. His body didn’t feel like his own and it was all because of her ass. He’d watched it walk away from him and became spellbound. Hell, he might even be in love with it. He wanted to bite it, wanted to mount and fuck her like the raging bull she’d called him. Sweat broke out along his hairline in spite of the frigid temperatures. He was probably steaming.

He shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Because he was an idiot. “What do you think those nymphs wanted?”

It was her turn to shrug. “Maybe you stepped on their flowers, or dropped a cow patty in their territory. No telling with those crazy bitches.”

Grant almost snorted. She had a lot of nerve calling other women “crazy.”

“What are you doing out here?”

Her smile disappeared and her lips compressed into a tight line. “I don’t want to talk about it. I have to go.” She spun around and stomped away. “It was nice saving you, Raging Bull. Next time, though, your balls are mine!”

She was gone in seconds, leaving Grant alone with an erection the size of a baseball bat. Dammit. He stomped to his house, entering through the secret door that led directly to his bedroom. He needed sex and he needed to know who she was and when he would see her again. More importantly, he needed to know what her favorite position was, because he was going to keep her in it for hours.

* * * *

Izzy stormed back to the Black Dog Camp, not surprised to see the nymphs long gone. The idiotic minotaur deserved to be castrated, she grumbled as she glared at the lipstick smeared all over her SUV. Her hands fisted. She was going to kill them. Slowly.

Snarling, she climbed inside and settled in the backseat. She huddled in her blanket, pouting at the darkness. She hadn’t suspected the bull of being a minotaur, not once. Either she was slacking, or she’d been too distracted by her exile to pay attention. If she’d been on her game, then she might’ve realized there was something off about him. Instead, she’d been downright surprised by him, and she hated surprises.

When she’d heard a footstep behind her and whirled around to see a massive man with a small gold ring in his septum, she’d known.

Long blond hair had cascaded over his big shoulders, and dark blue eyes had gleamed at her in the darkness. He’d stood in the full moonlight, so she had plenty of opportunity to ogle him without him knowing. He had a face like an angel, the real kind, not a statue. Full, sensual lips that she’d wanted to lick and nibble. A strong nose with flared nostrils, and cheekbones sharp enough to cut, all paired with a massive body made for sex.

He was built like a prizefighter with broad shoulders, a heavily muscled chest and arms. Thick thighs that begged to be bitten had framed the most beautiful cock she’d ever seen in her hundred and fifty-one years.

She chuckled. Mr. Longfellow, indeed! More like Mr. You-Won’t-Walk-the-Next-Morning! He was hung like a…well, like a bull. Izzy snorted.

But day-um, the sight of his naked body against the moonlight darkness had left her with a very wet pair of panties. If Rosetta was here, she’d slap Izzy upside the head for thinking about sex when she should be learning “self-control.” Her chicks wanted her back home where she belonged. She didn’t have time for males, beautiful, large dicks or not.

Pillowing her head on her backpack, she closed her eyes and did her best to ignore the fire raging in her lower body. As soon as she cleaned the longhouse, she’d find BOB and take care of that particular itch. No man was going to interfere with her returning to her tribe. Oh, hells no.

Chapter Four

Grant groaned as sunlight penetrated his blinds. He really shouldn’t have sat down with that bottle of Wild Turkey last night. It had seemed the perfect way to end a piss-poor evening, but he regretted it this morning.

Shifting his limbs sent crushing waves of pain through his head. He didn’t even want to grab his poor skull for fear that it would burst if he touched it.

“Green isn’t a good color on you,” a husky voice said, sending shards of agony through his brain.

He managed to pry one eye open, squinting into the light to find the smart-ass. She stood leaning against the doorjamb, her arms crossed and one booted foot crossed in front of the other. In the sunlight, her skin was dusky as though she spent a lot of time outside. She wore a tight T-shirt that molded to her full breasts and a pair of cargo pants that emphasized the curve of her hips. His cock twitched beneath the sheet, drawing her gaze.

“Glad to see Mr. Longfellow isn’t bothered by your hangover.”

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?” he tried to ask, but the words came out garbled and raspy as though he’d been chewing nails all night.

She seemed to understand though. Big brown eyes settled on his face. She could have pulled off the innocent act except for the spark of battle in the dark, coffee-colored depths. “I thought I’d just make sure you didn’t fall in with a gang of pixies on the way home. And I came in through that doorway.” She pointed out the hidden entrance.

Grant closed his eyes, slumping back against his pillows. She was an Amazon. There was almost no way to keep them out of non-warded homes. He just hadn’t expected her to come back, especially when he wasn’t at his best. He gave a silent snarl.

“Wow, your nostrils flare when you’re pissed,” she said from much closer.

The scent of warm woman and roses drifted to him, setting his dick to throbbing. If he hadn’t been in pain, he would’ve grabbed her for a quick wrestle. Grant was pretty sure he could take her, in more ways than one, but at the moment, he’d just be glad if she stopped talking. He grunted at her.

“So what’s up with the nose ring anyway? It was bigger when you were a bull,” she commented, flicking the ring.

Strangely enough, it didn’t hurt. If anything, it sent a bolt of pure desire through his body, shocking him out of the hangover. His hand snapped out and latched onto her wrist. Grant pulled her into his bed, pinning her beneath him.

“I guess you’re finally awake.” She didn’t look the least bit worried.

“Yes,” he grunted, feasting his eyes on her mouth.

They stared at each other for what seemed like endless minutes. One of her eyebrows shot up and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What’s up with the nose ring?” She spoke slowly as though speaking to someone with limited intelligence.

“Minotaurs are pierced when we hit our first transition. Once we bond with our mate, the ring falls out,” he mumbled, leaning down to sniff her. Damn, she smelled delicious. “It also changes size when I shift.”

Her eyes sparkled. “That is so cool! Why does it fall out?”

“The ring helps keep the Minotaur’s Rage from killing anyone. I guess once a minotaur is mated, the gods figure his mate will keep him in line.”

“So you’re not mated?”

Grant shook his head and instantly regretted it. Okay, so the lust hadn’t healed his hangover, just pushed it to the side for the moment.

His stomach rumbled.

She squinted at him. “If you puke on me, I’ll rip your spine right through your nose.”

His cock twitched at the threat, coming to rest against the apex of her thighs. He groaned at the sensation. She was fully clothed, but he could feel the heat of her sex through the material.

“You’re sick,” she said in disgust, pushing him away with disturbing ease. “First you follow some psycho nymphs like a little lamb to the slaughter, and now you’re excited by my threats to kill you.” She hopped off the bed pacing around his room. “It’s got to be the cow thing,” she muttered to herself. “Any animal that stands around chewing on nothing all day can’t be smart. I don’t know why I thought I could help him out. I must’ve lost my mind.” She whirled around to pace in the opposite direction. “It’s the stress. The stress has made me crazy.”

Grant stacked his hands behind his head and watched her pace. Why had she come back, he wondered even as he enjoyed the view. Her lush backside jiggled with her every stomp. He wanted to watch that ass jiggle in his lap as she rode him. He grunted.

“Stop staring at my ass,” she told him offhandedly. “We have important things to discuss.”

“We do?” Grant asked, wondering if she liked vegetarian food.

“Yeah, like what those nymphs wanted with you,” she ticked the list off her fingers. “Why you especially? What are they up to? Why are they so aggressive? Do they have car insurance?”

“Car insurance?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, the bitches ruined my ride last night while you and I were playing
Blazing Saddles
.” She paused, waiting for him to respond. “C’mon! You don’t remember the scene with Mongo on the bull?” He shook his head and she threw her hands up. “Get dressed, bull.”

Grant watched her stomp out of the room. What a strange female. It was a good thing he only wanted her for one thing.

* * * *

Izzy pressed her hand to her chest as soon as she cleared the bedroom door. Holy chastity belt, that man was fine! Even with dark circles under his eyes and a green cast to his face, he was hotter than the incubus she’d been pretending to lust after for the last twenty years. She leaned against the wall. Fallon was the hottest male to grace the Veil and everyone knew it, but even he didn’t have the knee-buckling effect on her this minotaur did.

About right, she thought in disgust. She finally falls into true lust and it’s with a dumb-as–a-doorknob bull who couldn’t keep his mind on a conversation. She’d felt him staring at her ass. It’d made her feel self-conscious in a way she hadn’t since she hit puberty. Men did not stare at Isola Malone. They avoided her like the plague, or they tolerated her because of her skills.

Hell, even when she fought and won males who owed tribute, she didn’t have sex with them. It was too gross as far as she was concerned. Nope, she put them to work cleaning her tent and weapons, and if her urges got to be too much, BOB was always available. And he didn’t talk or ask stupid questions.

Shaking her head to clear it of the lust fogging it, Izzy looked around the big room in front of her. The minotaur’s house was gorgeous. The secret door hadn’t been hard to find, and she’d let herself into the house, surprised to enter his bedroom. She shook her head again. No, think outside the bedroom. Right.

High rafters sported tapestries depicting minotaurs in battle. She’d never actually met one before, which was probably why she hadn’t pegged him as a shifter. They weren’t as numerous as some of the other races and as far as she knew, they weren’t very sociable. Minotaurs were solitary shifters who preferred their homelands over roaming.

Izzy meandered around the great room. She took a deep breath and smiled at the minotaur’s home. The décor was plain and masculine. Deep leather sofas faced the big-screen television. The room had an open floor plan that led off from the minotaur’s bedroom. The kitchen was open with a bar. It was a big house for one man, or woman, but it was welcoming and cozy.

Drifting across the room, Izzy went to stand in front of the big picture windows looking out over his land. She had been right; you could see the entire valley from this house. She was amazed, considering she hadn’t pegged him as the brightest bulb in the pack.

“So who are you anyway?” The deep rumble of his voice set off an avalanche of lust through her body.

She turned around and it took everything she had not to drool. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans and that was it. The damn button wasn’t even done up leaving the patch of skin at the base of his abdomen bare to her hungry eyes. She could see the barest gleam of blond hair and knew the root of his cock was just a centimeter from exposure.

She cleared her throat, letting her eyes drift up that twelve-pack belly and the strong, broad chest with a dusting of light blond hair.
ZOMG
, she thought in heavy lust,
he was too sexy to believe
. His hair fell around his shoulders in a tangled wave that she wanted to sink her fingers into.