Toil And Trouble, A Paranormal Romance (Jolie Wilkins)

  It was like I was waging a war with my mouth and it was winning. Words just came flying out and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop them.

  “He was half naked, if I remember correctly,” Rand said, a smile toying with his lips.

  “Is that what you thought?” I insisted. “I mean, that we, er Trent and I, had done it? Did you think we had? Cause it looked that way, didn’t it?”

  Rand chuckled. “It had appeared that way, yes.”

  “Were you bothered by it? I mean, did it bother you to think we’d been together?” It bothered me that I’d never cleared up this tidbit with him.

  Rand dropped his eyes again and seemed like he was attempting to memorize the pattern of the hardwood floors.

  “It caused me sleepless nights, yes.”

  Because I was possessed by the verbiage demon, I didn’t even have a chance to ponder the fact that Rand was admitting things I’d never thought he would. Course, I’d never thought I’d actually have the guts to ask all these questions. Maybe the fairy potion wasn’t such a bad thing ...

  “Why didn’t you ever ask me if I loved him or if I was happy with him, at least? You could have asked me if we’d had sex, Rand.” I paused for a breath. “I would have told you eventually.”

  “Because it wasn’t my bus …”

  “You could’ve asked, you know? I really wanted to tell you at the time but it just didn’t seem right. I mean, it had been super obvious that you were spying on me since you’d walked like two miles to my house in the rain and who does that?”

  “Jolie …”

  “And I knew Trent was just loving the fact that you thought we’d done … it. He had sooo many issues with you. God, he was such a jerk. What in the heck did I ever see in him?”

  Rand appeared to be controlling a smile. He leaned into the pillow next to me, his kilt riding up and revealing the muscular swell of his thigh. I committed the image to memory for use the next time I needed a little one on one time with my hand.

  “I don’t know what you saw in him.”

  And neither did I. It was a good thing I was paralyzed or I would have jumped on Rand and sexually assaulted him right then and there. I suddenly started feeling a fuzzy warmth penetrating through my body like I’d just had something hot to drink on a really cold day. Maybe it was the potion but I suddenly felt sluggish and my eyelids felt even heavier.

  “Yeah … jerk … right?” I managed.

  Rand nodded and traced my hairline. “Granted, he was a jerk. Still is.”

  I couldn’t help my yawn and I couldn’t even cover my mouth.

  “You’re tired, Jolie,” Rand said, running his fingers through my hair.

  And just like that, the feeling of heaviness was gone, replaced with what felt like adrenaline bubbling through me. I had to restrain myself from spewing out another litany of meaningless drivel.

  “Are you glad I told you about Trent and me?” I couldn’t keep the words in—they’d mutinied and won.

  Rand was quiet for exactly four seconds. “Yes.”

  “I’m glad I told you then.”

  “You know I have deeply rooted feelings for you, Jolie.”

  Well, I’d always known we had something between us. How deeply rooted his feelings were for me, I’d never been sure. Mine, on the other hand, were as deeply rooted as a super old tree.

  “I … never really knew for sure,” I said.

  Suddenly, the bubble of anxious verbiage seemed to deflate in me and I expelled it with a sigh. I was exhausted again.

  “How could you not know?” he insisted.

  I tried to comprehend what he was saying but it was getting harder to keep my eyes open.

  “Jolie, are you listening?” Rand asked with the hint of a smile.

  I really was trying to listen but finding it near impossible. I felt my eyes close for a few seconds before I forced them open again. I’d wanted to have this conversation with Rand for a while and now that the opportunity was here, coupled with my liquid courage, I was suddenly a narcoleptic.

  “Um, what? Yeah, yeah I’m listening.”

  But I wasn’t listening, I was falling asleep.

  “We can talk soon, Jolie,” Rand whispered and ran his fingers down my cheek.

  “No, Rand …” Yawn. “We should … talk now.” Yawn.

  He chuckled and pushed up from the bed. “Jolie, you need to heal.” He grabbed hold of my hand and his warm electricity coursed through me.

  “Don’t go,” I whispered.

  “I thought I nearly lost you to Dougal,” he said gently. “It would have killed me, Jolie. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I remembered the feel of his warm and lush lips on mine before the craptastic fairy potion took me to the Land of Nod.

  ~

  I woke up with a start and this time my visitor wasn’t exactly someone I was thrilled to see.

  Odran.

  Anxiety beat a path down my spine at the sight of the king of the fae. Hopefully he wasn’t here to demand a rematch.

  “I’m still not feeling good. Can’t this wait until some other time?” I pleaded while attempting to wiggle my toe. No feeling … nothing. Maybe I needed more of that God-awful fairy potion because I didn’t feel a damned bit better.

  Odran shook his mane of hair and like a great lion, lumbered over to my bed and sat down, uninvited. Tendrils of his incredibly long and beautiful golden hair splayed over his naked shoulders like a cresting wave. Like Rand, Odran too wore a kilt but his was purple and blue, colors of fae royalty. But unlike Rand, I couldn’t say I was much interested in what Odran wore beneath his kilt. Gorgeous though the king of the fairies was, fending off his sexual advances was in a word … exhausting. And I so didn’t have the time or the interest for it now. Well, I guess I had the time …

  “Nay, lass, I doona want to trouble ye with talk ah war.”

  The spectrum of Odran’s conversation vacillated between war talk and sex talk and I could definitely say I preferred the previous. I frowned but didn’t say anything. I’m sure he wanted to trouble me with talk of less noble subjects such as the carnal interests of the Little King.

  “I doona want,” he started and then stopped, fisting his hands in a great show of frustration.

  “Out with it,” I prompted impatiently.

  He faced me in surprise, like most people wouldn’t dare talk to him like that. Well, screw it, he wasn’t my king. I didn’t vote for him, as Monty Python would say.

  “I hope ta change yer mind regardin’ this war, lass.”

  I started to shake my head but he interrupted me.

  “Nay, please listen.”

  I attempted to cross my arms against my chest in the universal sign of “I’m not amused” but forgot my arms weren’t working. “Go on,” I muttered, although I regretted the words as soon as they escaped. Odran should not be encouraged.

  “Ye have ah gift, lass. Ah gift that all the creatures ah the Oonderworld would fight ta ‘ave. Yer gift is too precious ta risk in ah war.”

  My gift was my ability to bring the dead back to life. How I gained this ability, I have no clue. It just sort of happened one day, and ever since then my life had changed dramatically. I’d been the victim of kidnapping and attempted homicide. Great gift, huh?

  “I want ye ta reconsider ma offer.”

  His offer was to abandon my life with Rand and Christa and join the fairies whereby they could exploit my mad skills and let the rest of the otherworldly creatures destroy themselves.

  “I won’t reconsider, Odran,” I said and then eyed him. “I hope you aren’t breaking your word?”

  Suddenly, the king’s somewhat docile manner was thrown out with the kitchen trash. He stood up so fast he nearly fell over and proceeded to bash his fist into the wall, the plaster powdering the ground below him.

  “I am king o’ the fae!” he roared. “I doona break mah word!”

  “Hot damn, Odran,” I started, only slightly freaked out. His bark was worse
than his bite. “Calm down. I believe you, jeez.”

  The blood in his face seemed to fade a bit but he didn’t make any motion to sit down. Instead, he started pacing the room, arms crossed against his impressive expanse of chest. He was the epitome of some mythological being. But his wealth of muscles, immense height, and unappeasable sexual drive were lost on me.

  “Ye ‘ave ah way boot ye, lass. Ye are difficult.”

  Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? “You aren’t much fun yourself.”

  “I will not offer again, lass.”

  What was he offering again? Ah, yes, the chance to live with him in fairyland with unlimited access to my bed until he tired of me. And then I’d keep the homefires burning while he proceeded to fornicate with the willing female population.

  “I think I’ll pass.” I paused. “But thanks for the offer.”

  I was spared Odran’s response when the door thrust open, and Rand, who could also be compared to a mythological being in his own right, appeared.

  “What the bloody hell was that noise?” His gaze settled on Odran as he took the few steps separating him from the king. “And what the hell are you doing in here?”

  Odran frowned, his hands on his hips. “The lass shows no respect.”

  A crimson wash stole over Rand’s cheeks and his jaw was tight. “What did you do to her?” he demanded as his eyes found the remnants of plaster on the floor. “Are you alright, Jolie?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine. Odran had a little temper tantrum but he’s calmed down now.”

  “Temper tantrum?” Rand repeated. “I don’t appreciate you scaring Jolie, Odran, especially when she’s trying to recover!”

  “He didn’t scare me,” I mumbled, though neither paid me any attention.

  Odran dropped his hands from his hips and his face flushed like he was going to explode again. Before this became warlock vs. fairy, I thought I should intervene. “We were just discussing our plans to move forward,” I said and gave Odran an encouraging glance. “Weren’t we, Odran?”

  His eyes narrowed but he succumbed by nodding. “Aye.”

  Rand wasn’t fooled but chose not to comment, instead saying, “Jolie is tired.”

  Odran didn’t say a word and without even a glance in my direction, lumbered out. Rand watched him and didn’t turn to face me until Odran disappeared.

  “What did you do to make him so upset?”

  “He tried to persuade me to leave you and Christa.”

  Rand shook his head. “Well, I suppose that’s preferable to what I assumed he was doing here.”

  “And what would that be?” I asked even though I knew the answer.

  “Chatting you up again.”

  “And if I’d been into it, you certainly have a way of ruining any chance I get of hooking up with anyone,” I said with a smile.

  Rand looked entirely uncomfortable and started to say something but then stopped.

  “I’m kidding, Rand.”

  He nodded and took a few steps closer to the door before turning to face me. “Yes, well, good. That’s good.”

  He took another two steps and turned around again, running his hands down the front of his shirt nervously. “Well, rest and I’ll come and check on you in a bit.”

  Then he turned and walked out.

  TWO

  One week later and I was nearly back to myself. Granted, I was still incredibly tired but at least I could stand and move my arms and legs. It might not sound like much, but after being bedridden for five days, it was an improvement I’d gladly take. Better still, I was back home in Alnwick, England, which was a creature comfort in and of itself. But though my surroundings might have been comfortable, my life was anything but.

  Preparations for the war were in full effect. Odran and his ambassador fairy, Nigel, had already visited Rand’s home twice in the course of the week since we’d been home. And the king of the fae wasn’t our only visitor. We also played host to Sinjin, a vampire who was growing dearer to my heart. Sinjin had helped me escape from Bella, the would-be queen of the Underworld, after she kidnapped me. And since that great feat, I had to admit his approval ratings had soared, at least in my books.

  The same couldn’t be said for Rand.

  “The Charter of the Witches dictates we announce when and where we will meet Bella’s army,” Rand insisted for the third time in twenty minutes.

  We were in Rand’s drawing room, centered around his grand fireplace (and by grand, I mean six feet tall and completely built of river rock). “We” comprised Odran, Nigel, Christa, Rand, and Sinjin. A roaring fire crackled and hissed from the hearth, sending macabre shadows around the room. Christa and I were seated comfortably in front of the fire, while the males paced around the room like anxious new fathers.

  “Randall,” Sinjin started, exhaling deeply as he came closer. The highlight of the fire heightened the harsh planes of his face and made his ice blue eyes appear to glow. He looked every inch the quintessential villain in his black slacks and black button down shirt. No one would ever use the word “casual” to describe Sinjin.

  “Rand,” the warlock corrected him, for the umpteenth time.

  “Indeed,” Sinjin smiled, his English accent thick. “Bella will not fight according to your doctrine, so why should we?”

  Rand’s mouth was tight. “Because we are honorable.”

  “Your honor will get us killed.”

  I grabbed hold of the top of my leather wing-backed chair, attempting to pull myself to more of a seated position. While I might have felt better than I had after defending myself against Dougal, I still felt like I’d taken one too many valium. Rand turned toward me and when it appeared Odran would assist me, Rand threw him a glare. He then bent down and hoisted me into his arms, moving me into an upright position.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his soft brown eyes enthralling.

  I could only nod as I watched him reach for a small wooden stool in the corner of the room. He lifted it and walked back toward me, raising my legs as he positioned the stool underneath them.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes, thanks,” I replied meekly as I watched the warmth in his eyes dissolve once they re-encountered Sinjin.

  “Stoop to Bella’s level? Is that what you would have us do, Sinjin?” he insisted.

  Sinjin shrugged and approached Rand and me, pausing just above me as he leaned against the side of my chair. He smelled of some foreign scent—clean and captivating.

  “I do not care for it any more than you do but it is realistic.”

  “What time is it?” Christa asked and yawned, stretching all the while. When no one responded she shrugged and began searching for split ends.

  “Do we even know where Bella and her army are?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  Sinjin squatted down until his face was inches from mine. He didn’t say anything but he didn’t need to; his grin spoke volumes.

  I just shook my head in resignation.

  “What does he mean?” Odran insisted. Rand also turned to face me curiously.

  “It means he’s tasted her blood and now he can track her.”

  “Ugh,” Christa said as she found a split end and tried to pluck it. I wasn’t sure if the “ugh” referred to her hair or the fact that Sinjin and Bella had done the dirty deed. I was pretty grossed out by the latter.

  “Bella is no fool. She would know Sinjin could track her,” Rand said, ever the perceptive warlock.

  “Aye, boot she wouldna know when we would coome for ‘er,” Odran added.

  Nigel said nothing but just stood behind Odran. He was as silent and unmoving as a guard outside Buckingham Palace.

  “Why don’t we just assassinate her?” I asked and justified it with, “then we wouldn’t have to worry about any of this.”

  Sinjin chuckled while Rand shook his head. “That is not our way. We would be excommunicated from our society,” Rand said and threw me a disgruntled expression.

  “Jeez Louise
,” Christa said, apparently losing interest in her hair. “Witches have so many rules.”

  I had to agree with that. Bella had already demonstrated that she was less than willing to comply with the very rules Rand relied on, so what did that mean for us?

  “You are so concerned with propriety,” Sinjin said, obviously unimpressed.

  “If we killed her, Ryder would just take her place,” I said. Ryder was a vampire and one of Bella’s stooges. If I detested Bella, I hated Ryder even more. He’d been the one to kidnap me, all the while pretending to be on our side. And that hadn’t been his last or least offense. He’d also nearly drained me to death. Only Sinjin had defended me against Ryder. Like I said, I was quickly becoming a fan of Sinjin.

  “As far as I’m concerned, we fight with honor or we do not fight at all,” Rand said.

  Odran, Sinjin, and I all turned to observe Rand. Christa was too busy with her hair to realize the weight of his statement.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Yes, Randall, what does that mean?” Sinjin queried, his fingers plying the top of my chair. I could feel his cold breath as it assaulted my neck and a wash of excitement coursed through me, much though I tried to suppress it.

  “It means I will not fight unless we do so morally and honorably. I will not stoop to her level.”

  “And if she attacks us?” Sinjin countered.

  “We will be ready for it,” Rand answered.

  Odran rubbed his chin, as if in deep contemplation. Nigel could only stand there, like Odran’s shadow.

  “How do we prepare for it?” Sinjin demanded, his fingers now digging into the leather chair.

  Rand sighed. “Everyone will camp here, at Pelham Manor. We will notify Bella of when and where we will meet her army. In the meantime, this will be our base. We will train together and live together.”

  “And die together,” Sinjin finished with a scowl.

  Odran started forward, lumbering as if his body wasn’t accustomed to its great height and build. “If he will ‘ave it nay oother way …” he started.

  “I will not,” Rand answered. He certainly was stubborn. I could only pray his sense of stubbornness would serve us and not be our death sentence.