Perfectly Imperfect Pixie (Perfect Pixie Series #1)

1. Phil

Phil

“T here’s no need to fight. I’m sure we can work this out if we just talk calmly.

Please retract your claws and teeth.” My wings fluttered under my tight t-shirt, keeping them trapped against my body.

It was one of Mr. Moony’s conditions for my employment.

No one could see my pixie wings. He’d also ordered me to cut my hair.

I hadn’t. I stuffed it under a hat pulled down low on my forehead.

Out of sight, out of mind was good enough, right?

“He winked at my mate.”

I could barely make out the female werewolf’s words through her guttural growl. Almost all weres were reactive, but wolves were some of the worst. Dominants were the worst of the worst, and this female screamed dominant.

“Hey, I didn’t see a mating mark anywhere.”

I didn’t know if the human who’d made the pass on the were was drunk, high, or just stupid. All three were possible and in any varying combination.

“Come on, Jacob. Let’s get out of here.” One of the human’s friends tugged at Jacob’s jacket. This human seemed a touch brighter or maybe just had better survival instincts. I scratched that last possibility off the list when he continued tugging at his friend instead of running for the hills.

Jacob had a death wish. Shaking off his friend, Jacob got up in the were’s face and taunted, “She doesn’t act much like she’s mated . She’s the one that flirted with me.”

Oh shit.

The dominant female were’s features changed.

Well-manicured nails turned into yellowed claws.

Her jaw extended, filled with snapping teeth ready to rip and tear this idiotic human to pieces.

If she got a hold of him, it would take Muriel’s Zombie Cleaning Service days to pick their way through all the brain bits.

That couldn’t happen. A murdered human might not get Mr. Moony’s bar shut down, but it would be investigated and might curb Dusk’s business for a while. If that happened, Mr. Moony would not be pleased, and I’d be out of a job.

As horrible as it was, I needed this job. Who else was going to hire a six-foot-two pixie? No one, that’s who. Pixies were supposed to be petite, beautiful creatures—emphasis on both. I’d been told I fit the second criterion, but the first had been a lost cause since I was born.

I was a bouncer. I was supposed to get trouble off Mr. Moony’s property.

If the female were wanted to tear the foolish human to pieces out on the street—on public property—that would be okay with Mr. Moony.

I just wished it was okay with me, too. I might be jumbo-sized, but I was still a pixie at heart that didn’t like violence.

I hated the thought of blood and brain bits littering the street even more.

“Please.” My wings battered against the shirt attempting to rein them in. My wings always fluttered when I was upset. “He’s human; he doesn’t know better. He—”

“He’s a moron,” Jacob’s human friend tried to help. Or at least I think that’s what he was trying to do when he insulted his friend. “And he’s drunk off his ass.”

Two out of three—drunk and stupid.

“Yes. See, he didn’t mean any harm.” I hopped around the edge of the two as they faced off. The dominant were’s mate casually leaned against the cool brick surrounding Dusk’s entrance. She looked smug, and I wondered if maybe the human wasn’t in the wrong as much as I’d thought.

The dominant were stopped snarling. Her amber eyes briefly flicked in my direction. It looked like she might be listening, like she might calm—

“No mating mark means fair game,” Jacob slurred, poking his finger at the dominant were’s chest.

The dominant’s mate chuckled and rubbed a spot on her inner thigh.

Humans thought mating marks were placed where all and sundry could see.

But only humans needed visual confirmation of an official mating.

The rest of the community, every other species living on the planet, had other senses that confirmed matings.

Our pissed-off were raised her head and howled—long, low, and deeply angry. When her head snapped down, any semblance of humanity was long gone. Only the wolf remained.

Jacob’s friend screamed. He still had a hold of Jacob’s jacket. I didn’t know if it was instinct or true thought, but he yanked back as the were struck. Jacob tumbled into his friend, and they both sprawled on the ground.

The were started to follow.

My wings beat harder until they ripped through the paltry woven cotton meant to contain them.

A pink blur thrummed desperately, scattering pixie dust everywhere.

Wings free, I flew between the were and her prey.

I was no more of a threat to this were than the humans lying on the ground.

Jacob wasn’t the only idiot out tonight.

“Please.” I held my hands up, palms out. “You don’t want to do this. You—”

“Oh yes she does.” The were’s mate pushed off the wall, speaking up for the first time. Grim light danced in her eyes, and she licked her lips with sweet anticipation. “Defend me, baby,” she cooed into her mate’s ear.

My wings beat faster, sounding like a helicopter dropping more pixie dust into the night, spreading it around. The first hint of dust hit the weres and humans at the same time. A couple of sneezes turned into fits. Everyone’s eyes reddened and watered.

The were backed up, humanity stealing in and replacing the angry wolf.

“What the he— achoo .” Sneezing fits turned into violent hacking.

I couldn’t stop the rapid beat of my wings or the heavy pixie dust streaming from them as my anxiety grew.

There was a reason pixie dust had given humans the idea for pepper spray.

My dust wasn’t as noxious, but it was close.

The two humans rolled on the ground, rubbing their eyes.

Snot dripped from their noses. The spectators vying to get into the club began to sneeze too.

They scattered away from the building and entrance.

Pixie curses whispered into the night, and I could only hope none of them came from witches or wizards. The last thing I needed was a hex

Maybe it was a curse or just my shitty luck, but when I leaned in to check on the were, her arm flew out. I drew back but not before the tips of her fingers scraped my hat, knocking it from my head. My waist-length hair pillowed around me.

I was a pixie in every way except my size, and my hair was no different. White-blond at its roots, as my hair grew, light hues of pink began, ending in bright magenta tips. My wings mimicked the magenta. My eyes didn’t. I’d inherited my father’s soft green, like fresh leaves and young sprouts.

“What in the seven hells is going on out here, Phil?”

Double shit.

I turned, unable to ignore my boss. Even for a troll, Pete was big.

Massive in all ways trolls were known to be.

In troll society, he was a prime specimen.

I’d only been at this job for a couple of days, but I’d already lost count of how many trolls I’d seen hit on him.

Some ogres too. And, unlike me, Pete fit the stereotypical troll role to a tee.

He even had the perfect job as a bouncer for the wealthiest vamp in the city, Lucroy Moony, my current boss.

Pete didn’t lumber forward. That was one of those foolish human misconceptions. Big didn’t mean slow. Not when it came to trolls. Pete was at home in his own skin and used his size to every one of its benefits.

The fluorescent lights of Dusk’s neon sign glared down on Pete’s skin, turning its ocher color a sickening yellow. It also yellowed the whites of his eyes, washing out the muddy brown irises ringing his blown pupils.

Trolls didn’t put much effort into oral hygiene, and when Pete got in my face and yelled, I could smell his most recent, gangrenous meal.

Trolls loved rotten meat. They’d leave the stuff hanging outside their homes for days.

Trolls loved the smell. Ogres were the only other species that could stand the stench.

Everyone else steered clear of troll villages.

I hung my head, allowing my long hair to cover the pointed tips of my ears and the contrite, embarrassed flush of my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Pete.” I wrung my hands, twisting them around each other and shifting from foot to foot. My wings had stopped their hummingbird pace and twitched only now and again.

Waving a hand in front of his face, Pete tried to scatter my remaining pixie dust. It didn’t make him cough, sneeze, or wheeze. But it did make Pete pissed.

“Pixie dust? Are you fucking kidding me, Phil? The boss man told you to keep those wings under wraps.” Pete tugged on my hair, and I almost fell into him.

“And this? You have got to be fuckin’ kidding me right now.

You didn’t cut it. You were ordered to chop this shit off if you want to work as a bouncer here.

Hair like this can get caught up in a fight too damn quickly.

Besides, it screams pixie. No one in their right mind would be scared of a pixie. ”

No one would fear a normal pixie. But I wasn’t normal. I was jumbo-sized and built more like a bouncer than the home-and-hearth pixie I was born to be.

“Mr. Moony gave you a chance because you’re big and look intimidating.” Pete huffed and tugged on my hair again. “At least you’d look intimidating without the pink hair and fairy wings.”

I yanked back at the insult. Fairies could manifest their wings at will, and they looked nothing like mine. I was a pixie. I didn’t have any beef with fairies, but saying my wings looked like a fairy’s was like me calling Pete an ogre. It was, at best, unkind.

“Pete, what seems to be the trouble?” Mr. Moony’s voice was slick and smooth.

Vamps had a way about them. Every step was purposeful, every word was spoken precisely, every glance was meaningful, and every gesture was graceful. It was as if their undead bodies refused to make even a single motion that wasn’t useful.