Chapter 8 Maverick #3
The siren gave him a nod as a gesture of acknowledgement as Zera emerged from the dressing room, dressed in one of Felice’s creations.
In that moment, he had eyes only for the pixie.
The form-fitting black gown accentuated her curves and flattered her figure, leaving him momentarily speechless.
The black fabric was so dark it seemed to change colors with each movement, from hellfire red to midnight blue, making her appear as enchanting as the night sky itself.
Her fair skin peeked out from the lace that wound up her arms in a floral pattern from her wrists up to her shoulders before plunging down to a daring V-neckline.
The bodice hugged her curves in all the right places and accentuated every enticing contour of her body before flowing into a floor-length skirt that swirled with every step she took.
A slit ran up the side of the skirt, revealing just enough of her toned leg to make his heart skip a beat.
“Wow,” he breathed out, unable to stop himself. “You look incredible.”
“Thanks,” Zera replied, her cheeks turning a rosy pink. She was clearly pleased by his reaction. “Your friend here does know what she’s doing. But I’m pretty sure this is the least practical of all the clothes, and how in the world do the weapons in this thing work?”
A bell chimed at the front door to the shop, gaining Felice’s attention. “Why don’t I give you two newlyweds some privacy? Dane, I trust you remember the basics of how my fashion works.”
Maverick nodded before she disappeared out the small doorway separating the main clothing store from the private showroom and dressing room.
He barely noticed her leaving, his eyes still roaming Zera’s figure.
When she turned, it nearly knocked the breath right out of him.
The fabric stopped at her shoulders, leaving her back bare and exposed all the way down to just above the curve of her lower back, where the intricate lace design continued, a tantalizing sight that sent a delicious shiver down Maverick’s spine.
“Right.” He stood up and came to join her in front of the mirror, her exquisite reflection looking back at him intently.
“May I?” he asked, lifting his hand to prepare to show her how to activate the few magical defensive weapons that were standard in all of Felice’s clothes. But who knew what other secrets a dress like this contained?
“Of course,” she said, and he heard her hold her breath.
He kept his eyes on hers while his hands roamed over her body, delicately caressing her skin as he slipped one arm around her to support her waist while the other trailed the delicate fabric down the length of her sleeve, stopping at her wrist.
“When you move this hand in a figure eight”—he demonstrated, moving her wrist in the motion—“a small-yet-effective shield will form around you. It can deflect minor spells and even physical attacks.”
Tension coiled within him when he watched her breath visibly hitch in response as energy rippled from the sleeve of her dress.
Her jaw dropped in awe as a shimmering, translucent barrier formed around her body for a moment before dissipating when he moved her wrist in the same shape, only in reverse.
“And here”—he laced his fingers through hers and pulled her hand up to her chest—“if you press the heel of your palm against your sternum, the dress will release a burst of light, temporarily blinding your enemies and allowing you to escape or strike back.”
“Strike back?” She leaned into him to look up and meet his gaze, her warmth making him harden against her.
He could feel the electricity between them, a magnetic pull that seemed to intensify with every passing moment.
His heart raced as he gazed into her eyes, and he saw her vulnerability mingled with a fierce determination.
Was it possible for her to fall for a werewolf again?
For her to trust him despite who he was born as?
Could she accept him for who he was and not be defined by his past?
He shook these thoughts and the primal instincts within him out of his mind. They didn’t have time for that. Especially with the echoes of a confrontation coming from the front of the boutique. He knew Felice could handle herself, but it didn’t sound like he and Zera had much time.
“With this,” he said, finally removing his hand from her waist and moving her right arm in a circular motion so that a dagger perfectly weighted for her size appeared from the sleeve and slid into her hand.
“Oh no.” She pulled her hand away from his, but the dagger followed her. She opened her palm to drop it and gasped when the weapon stayed glued to her. “How do I get rid of it? I don’t know how to use this thing, and I’ll get us both stabbed.”
He met her panic with a smirk. “You’re in luck, since your pretend husband here is a spy. I’ll show you how to use it and the others.”
“Others? You mean there are more of these things?” She nearly shouted in frustration as she turned on him, the fabric of her dress swirling around her.
“I’m a bartender. I can whip up a mean Moonlit Mule or even a Nightshade Spritz, and I have some rudimentary knowledge in faeology, so…
there’s that, but I’m mostly just a mom, so if you need a quick diaper change, I’ve got you.
I’m definitely not you. I’m not a trained assassin! ”
“I’m not either. I’m a spy.”
“Same difference!” she retorted. “This is insane!”
He chuckled at her fiery spirit. It was both endearing and amusing. “I know it seems overwhelming, but trust me. I’m the best at what I do.”
She scoffed. “I’m sure you think you are, bloody faeboy.”
“It takes one to know one.” He shot her a wolfish grin then turned serious. “These weapons are not just for spies. They’re tools to protect ourselves and those we care about, like your son. Don’t you want to learn to better defend yourself, if not for you then for Cole?”
Zera looked at the dagger in her hand, and he could sense her uncertainty. Finally, she took a deep breath and nodded, straightening her shoulders and meeting his gaze in the mirror. “You’re right. I should know how to do this. But how can I… put it back? Do I have to use my pixie dust?”
“No. Tap your pinky finger on the hilt three times. It should vanish.”
She did as she was told, and the dagger melted back into the dress.
“Incredible,” she whispered, her eyes widening with amazement. “Is there anything else I should know?”
Maverick hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers in the reflection. The thump of her heartbeat reached his ears, the rhythm somehow drawing him closer.
“There’s one more thing,” he finally said, moving his hand to the side of her hip.
“If you slide your hand into this hidden pocket”—he carefully ran his hand along the slit of her dress—“you’ll find that it’ll launch a tiny enchanted smoke bomb that will render vampires and shape-shifters powerless for a short period of time. ”
“Not elementals?” she asked, a shudder escaping her lips when his fingers briefly touched her thigh.
“Only your shield will work against them,” he breathed, not daring to move.
Her eyes flickered down to his lips, and before he thought better of it, he pressed them against hers, his tongue demanding entry.
She opened to him, and he welcomed the taste of her desire.
Somehow her leg wound up in his hand, wrapped around his waist, and her hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.
Perhaps it was the dress, or perhaps it was the danger that lurked just beyond those walls.
Whatever it was it made him forget the differences he knew still lingered.
The prejudices and anger for each other’s kind.
What would confusing the line between their fake marriage and their very real bitterness toward each other do to their already fragile alliance? To their mission?
Maverick groaned, pulling them apart.
Her eyes filled with relief and a hint of longing.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her hands still wrapped around his neck.
“Zera,” he whispered, stroking her chin with his thumb. “We can’t do this.”
“We can,” she said breathlessly. “After all, we are married now.”
She teased him, pressing her breasts against him.
He growled. It wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He wouldn’t cross a line, even to retain their cover. Fake relationship or not, once they did this and the heat of the moment was over, what would be left?
No, he couldn’t do this. But it was tempting.
“We shouldn’t,” he said. “We have a job to do.”
She stared at him, biting her lip, and his eyes nearly burned with the intensity of his desire for her.
“But I want you.”
Maverick groaned, his body reacting to her admission.
It was all the wolf within him needed to hear.
He slid his other hand around her standing leg so she straddled his waist as he carried her into the private dressing room.
Their kiss deepened, and the scent of her arousal hit him hard, igniting a fire deep inside him.
He needed to touch her, to feel her come.
“Fae gods, Zera. You’ll be the death of me,” he murmured against her ear when she pulled the curtain shut behind them.
Desire and lust flashed in her eyes, and he kissed her again.
This time, he didn’t hold back, his tongue diving deep, tasting and exploring every corner of her mouth as his hands traveled up the slit of her dress and caressed between her thighs.
She gasped into his mouth as his fingers brushed the coil of heat radiating from her core, causing her to arch into his touch.
He didn’t care if she deceived him in the end, if her saving his life was a ploy to get what she wanted. She could have it. All of it and more. He would bend to her beck and call, kneel before her, and worship her body like the queen she was.
Outside the dressing room, Felice’s siren song rang out from the front of the boutique at a decibel only his ears could pick up, warning them of the danger approaching. In his passion-filled haze, he barely registered it.
But then shouts neared and snapped him back to reality. He heaved a frustrated sigh as he pulled them apart. She breathed heavily against him, and he ached to fulfill her needs, wouldn’t rest until he ensured she was completely satiated. But now was not that time.
“Wh-What was that?” she stammered, still breathless, her lips swollen from his touch. He would claim them again.
“Nothing good. Stay behind me,” Maverick whispered, his voice low and urgent. He could sense the fear in Zera building as she nodded, her eyes wide with concern.
He led the way out of the tiny dressing room into the private showroom at the back of the boutique. There was only one entrance. They’d have to fight their way out of there, then.
“Have your shield ready,” he warned Zera, praying that she didn’t have to use it.
They inched their way toward the main boutique in time to see a group of suspicious-looking shoppers push past Felice, even though she insisted the store was closed.
Maverick’s instincts kicked in, and he recognized the threat immediately.
As the intruders ignored Felice, she gave Maverick a look of warning.
She needed them to stall. This gave him an idea.
Without warning, Maverick pulled Zera back into the dressing room and pulled the curtain shut around them once again, pulling her close against his firm body. His muscles popped as the wolf within primed for action.
“What are we doing? Shouldn’t we fight?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly.
“We aren’t doing anything yet,” he said, his tone low.
He looked deep into her eyes, seeing the fear and confusion reflected back at him but also the trust and desire that burned like a wildfire.
“Zera, I’m sorry we have to do this, but I can’t let them hurt you.
I’ll make sure they don’t get close, but I need you to trust me and activate that shield. ”
She hesitated, her eyes darting back to the curtain and then back to him. “Okay, but be careful.”
He brushed his thumb across her cheek, and her eyes briefly closed at the sensual touch. Then his face hardened as he focused on what he had to do. “I will be. Now, stay here, and don’t make a sound.”
With a deep breath, Maverick swiftly exited the dressing room and prepared to devour whoever attacked first. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and he allowed the beast inside him to surge forward.
His vision became narrowed and his hearing sharpened as he waited for the first intruder.
Whoever they were didn’t stand a chance.