Avet, Danica - Ain't No Bull [The Veil 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) (8 page)

She twisted her face into a grimace of distaste. Yes okay, she was scared of the bull. The bastard drew her more than one of the strongest incubi did. What kind of Amazon would she be if she just rolled over for him? He’d have her bound and locked in lustful servitude before she could say “orgasm.”

Fallon must’ve read her answer in her face because he sighed. “I do not like this,
fouine.
One such as you, you are not meant for that kind of life. The Guard…they are powerful, yes, but they have no”—he waved his hand—“joy of life.” He smiled down at her. “You are like the sun, yes? You burn bright and make others happy. It would be a shame to see that light extinguished.”

Izzy stared up at Fallon. He saw her as someone filled with joy? Tears burned her eyes. If only he knew.

“I’ll think about it.” She kicked at the snow again. She knew he would tell Rosetta and Saga about her vow. After they laughed themselves silly, they’d be pissed that she was even considering the Guard. “Find out if we can tell Grant anything because I have a feeling this bull isn’t going to let it go.”

The smirk on the incubus’s lips made her want to punch him. She’d had enough of arrogant, smart-ass men today. “No worries,
cher,
I’ll tell them your
couillon taureau
is hardheaded like you. They will run to make arrangements,” he said with a laugh.

Izzy growled, launching herself at him again, but he disappeared in a puff of sandalwood-scented smoke. Fucking incubus teleportation, she thought as she landed face-first in the snow. She stayed there for a while, letting the cold seep into her. This solitary confinement was turning into a nightmare of bull-sized proportions.

Mentally ticking off everything that had gone wrong since she parked her car in Black Dog Camp, she realized she was up to her neck and sinking fast. She should’ve just let the nymphs lead Grant through the camp and left it at that, but no, she’d stepped in. Now the crazed bull
and
his mother thought Izzy was his mate.

Finally lifting her face out of the snow, she took a deep breath and sat up. She could handle this.

“You hungry?” he asked from behind her. “Or is snow part of your regular diet?”

Grumbling because she
was
hungry, Izzy stood, brushing the snow from her clothes. She needed a jacket if she was going to snow bathe again.

Grant stood on his porch, hip cocked up against the rail, looking far too sexy for her peace of mind. He still hadn’t put a shirt on, and the cold air had hardened his nipples. Izzy’s tightened in response. Hoping she could act like it was all the weather’s fault, she sauntered back to the house.

“Your friend left?”

“Yeah, he’ll be back soon though.”

“Well, I hope he has luck finding a place to stay around here. We don’t have a motel over in Eustis. He might have to stay in Sundance, which is about fifty miles south of here.” His tone was offhand, but his gaze was glued to her chest.

Izzy ignored the tingle in her stomach and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “He can bunk with me.”

“Hm, nope, that won’t work.”

She fisted her hands on her hips. “Oh? Why not?”

He shrugged. “It isn’t decent, unmated men and women sleeping together.”

Her mouth fell open. “Wh–What? You were going to sleep with six nymphs!”

His hair flopped onto his forehead as he shook his head. “Nope, I wasn’t planning to do any sleeping with those females. I would have left them at the camp and come home to my own bed.”

Her foot tapped on the hardwood of the porch. “So let me get this straight, it’s okay for unmated men and women to have sex with each other, just as long as they don’t sleep in a bed together?” she asked, incredulity coloring her voice.

“That’s about it.”

She threw her hands in the air and stomped into the house. “You’re impossible,” she muttered. “I suppose it’s a damn good thing you have more than one bed in your house, otherwise I’d have to find a hotel too, huh?”

The smell of food caught her attention, dragging her into the kitchen area where platters of food covered the heavy table. Hash browns, an omelet that took up two trays, at least a whole loaf of toast, and fruit called her name. Screamed it, actually. She sat down without waiting and fixed a plate.

“…we’ll be doing together,” Grant was saying over the roar of her stomach.

She stopped shoveling food onto the plate and looked up at him. “Huh?”

Blue eyes studied her before rolling. He moseyed—there was no other word for it—to the table sitting across from her. “I said that we wouldn’t have had a problem with that because we’re mates and sleeping won’t be the only thing we’ll be doing together,” he told her slowly as he filled his own plate.

Izzy saw red. Fisting her fork, she stabbed it into the tabletop, burying the tines into the wood. “We. Are. Not. Mates.”

Chapter Nine

Grant continued loading his plate as though she hadn’t spoken. “Now, the way I see it, these nymphs might have something to do with my job.”

His change of subject was smooth, but she wasn’t going to let him get away with it. He poured himself a glass of juice. Izzy waited until he was just about to swallow to let him have it.

“What job is that? Servicing every cow in the tri-county area?”

Juice came out of Grant’s mouth in an orange spray that was quite impressive. He sat blinking at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. Izzy sat back, satisfied that her work here was done.

Choosing another fork, she dug into her breakfast. It was good, but there was something just a little off. She frowned at her plate and took another bite, ignoring Grant who was wiping down the refrigerator. Then it dawned on her.

“There’s no meat in here!”

* * * *

Grant tossed the paper towel he’d used to clean his mess and leaned his head against the wall. Had he really been complaining about placid cow-swans the day before? She was the most impossible female. He was trying his best not to lose his temper, but she acted as though she wanted him to.

“Bull boy, why is there no meat in my omelet?” she demanded, a definite pout in her voice.

“Do you know what an herbivore is, Isola?” His headache was coming back and he didn’t think it had anything to do with him banging his head against the wall.

She grunted, sounding more like a cow-swan than an Amazon. He almost laughed because he knew just how pissed off she’d be if she knew what he was thinking.

“I know what an herbivore is, Grant.” His dick hardened into steel. It was the first time she’d said his name to his face. She always called him bull boy, or raging bull, or something equally insulting. Hearing his name on her lips made him want to drive right into her body. “What I’m asking you is where is
my
meat, because I am not a vegetarian,
capice
?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he had her meat in his jeans, but held back. He was trying to woo her, not disgust her. Right? He sighed, stretching the tense muscles in his shoulders.

“I don’t have any meat in the house, Isola. I am an herbivore, which means I’m also a vegetarian. I won’t stop you from getting your own meat as long as it isn’t…beef,” he said, feeling bile rise up in his throat. “I won’t allow that at all.”

She said nothing, so he turned to look at her. She was still shoveling the vegetarian omelet in her mouth all the while glaring at him. “I don’t like being told what I can and can’t do, bull boy.”

He returned to the table. She was complaining about his food, but she was eating it like it was about to disappear. Grant studied the table and realized it really was about to disappear. Isola was making impressive headway through food that would’ve made him turn away from the table.

Grabbing a few more piece of toast before she ate it all, he began eating again. He wasn’t sure what exactly they were doing, but their gazes locked as they ate. It was strangely intimate to stare into someone else’s eyes during a meal. He saw every nuance of her face as she enjoyed the food he’d cooked for her. That’s how he knew she truly enjoyed the omelet, but wasn’t a big fan of the berries.

Without much effort, his mind transported them from the table to bed and he could easily imagine how her eyes would tell him what she liked or didn’t like. He throbbed with want for her, but told himself to settle down. Isola would take a lot of work before she’d let him that close.

“You said the killer nymphs might have something to do with your job,” she said, pushing her plate away. “Explain.”

Hiding a smile, Grant finished his food. “I own a security company. Just yesterday morning we won a bid to provide protection and all security for the Veilerian Ball. We beat out several competitors even though we’re still a relatively small company.” This time he didn’t hide his smile. “It’s possible the nymphs are working for competitors, or someone who wants to stir up trouble.”

Izzy didn’t hear the last of what he said, her mind already calculating what he told her. If her suspicions were correct, then Grant had either escaped certain death, or torture that would make him wish he were dead. The only question was who did the nymphs work for? She had a suspicion it was Ormond Steele, but why would nymphs work for him? He was a fire elemental, which would make sense if all the nymphs were fire nymphs, but they hadn’t been.

“What are you thinking?” Grant asked her, his eyes intent on her face.

It unnerved her the way he stared at her, as though he were trying to see inside her mind. She knew he wouldn’t abandon his campaign to bond with her. Not because he actually liked her, but because it was an instinctive response to the mating tie between them. Part of her wondered how minotaurs completed the bond. It was just idle curiosity. She had no intentions of letting him that close.

“Isola?”

“Hm?” she answered absently, trying to puzzle through the logistics. Did bulls bite?

“What are you thinking?”

“Do you bite?” she finally asked. The baffled look on his face told her she probably could’ve worked up to the question. “When minotaurs bond, do they bite?”

Stupid, stupid, stupid question, she thought a little frantically as his eyes bled to black and his nostrils flared. Shit. His big hands curled into fists on the table as though he fought his instinct. Izzy froze, not sure what she would do if he came at her.

She waited breathlessly, trembling with anticipation. She struggled to hide her surprise. She wanted him to come at her? What the hell was up with that, she wondered wildly. She had control over her hormones, regardless of what her tribe thought.

Just when she thought she’d have to make a decision to fight or run Grant’s body relaxed. The black faded from his eyes slowly, though the intensity in his gaze didn’t lessen.

“No,” he finally said, his voice deep and gravelly. “We don’t bite. Only a female whose touch is recognized by the ring has a chance of bonding with a minotaur.” His nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath. “Each ring has a twin somewhere in the world. If the female holds, or finds, my ring’s twin, it solidifies the bond for eternity.” His eyes became heavy-lidded. “Once that happens, conception isn’t far behind.”

His blunt words caused her womb to contract with want. Her body was so not listening to her head where this male was concerned. Conception. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought about. Amazons were like human women in their fertility cycles which meant fourteen days before her period were their most fertile. By her calculations, she had maybe a week before she became fertile.

If the look in Grant’s eyes was any indication, he was ready to plant some seeds and watch them grow. Not that she should really worry. She didn’t have the other half of his ring. Still, a little voice persisted, she needed to be out of here before she had sex with him, which meant she needed to find out what, if any, part Grant and his company played in Ormond Steele’s grand plan.