Chapter 8
Celeste sankher fingers into Dove’s biceps. “Are you kidding me?”
Dove smacked her palm over her friend’s hand. “Pinch me harder because I’m sure I’m dreaming.”
After hours spent on Marcus’s lavish private jet, they’d switched to a seaplane. From there, they’d soared over gorgeous turquoise waters to a not-so-tiny island owned by Xavier Delgado. When they’d exited onto a pier, Dove couldn’t resist flinging out her arms out and shouting. “Boss, da plane, da plane!” Only Celeste had laughed. So sad. She really needed to broaden Marcus’s knowledge of pop culture.
Dove and Celeste entered the resort, arm in arm, gawking like a pair of country mice in New York. Massive stone warriors buttressed the gilded ceiling. Tridents clasped in their powerful fists. Marble floors veined with turquoise stretched out beneath them. The effect like rippling water. Carved arches framed the Grecian windows. Gauzy draperies billowed in a salty ocean breeze.
Marcus and Bishop followed them. The rest of his security team had peeled off as soon as they arrived, tasked with securing the island. Dove envied them. She’d love a chance to explore. Behind her, Marcus and Bishop spoke in low murmurs, no doubt working out a game plan. The vampire really needed to learn how to put work aside and simply enjoy the moment.
“Can you believe this place?” Celeste squealed, grip tightening.
“It’s like walking into Atlantis,” Dove said.
Marcus groaned a pained sound. “I think I hear our host coming.”
In the distance, her ears picked up the tickslap, tickslap, noise of flip-flops heading their way. To her surprise, the owner of this magical island wasn’t a silver-haired Mr. Rourke in a crisp white suit. Nor was he Jason Momoa’s Aquaman rising out of the ocean, all wet and muscley. In need of a towel and a thorough slathering of sunscreen.
No.
The man who greeted them was a stout five-foot. Maybe. His short-sleeved shirt was unbuttoned, baring his rounded stomach. Covering his chest was an unruly carpet of man hair. Gold chains nestled in his fuzzy thatch. Linen pants encased his plump thighs, and his tubby toes poked out of his sandals resembling a tray of Jimmy Dean sausages. Balanced on his curly head was a golden crown of leaves, the likes of which Caesar would have envied.
Stopping before them, he held out his arms, thrusting his ample gut into profile. “Greetings, and welcome to Adara Island!” he bellowed like a circus ringmaster, plump cheeks drawn back in a debonair smile.
Dove stared at him wide-eyed, heart high, breath tight in her chest. By the Goddess, he was fabulous! She burst into applause.
Celeste grabbed her hands, bringing her enthusiastic response to an abrupt halt.
“Sorry,” Dove whispered, face heating. So much for looking the part of a House lord’s distinguished Chosen.
Xavier straightened, greeting her first instead of his exalted guest, perhaps due to her obvious adoration. “Ah, you must be Dove. How wonderful to have such a charming creature on my island. You are even more exotic than the rarest Bird of Paradise.” He claimed her hand and placed a kiss on her fingertips. As he did so, the most delightful fragrance hit her nostrils. Xavier smelled like all the things she loved, salted caramel, fresh strawberries, lavender, and Christmas all rolled into one mouthwatering scent. It took everything she had not to step closer and lick his pudgy cheek.
Next, he turned to Celeste. “And this must be your gifted spell caster. Here to work her whiles on us all.”
Apparently, Dove wasn’t the only one susceptible to the man’s charms. To Dove’s bemusement, Celeste turned a beautiful shade of flamingo-pink, batting her lashes at their host. “Thank you so much for having us. It’s an honor to be here.”
“Xavier.” Marcus stepped forward.
“Lord Steele,” the jovial man declared, thrusting his palm out.
Marcus shook his hand with far less enthusiasm.
Xavier glanced around Marcus’s shoulders to the stoic bodyguard, who lingered a few feet away. “And the ever-present Bishop.” He grinned at Marcus. “Never in my wildest dreams did I think to see a super heavyweight champ, much less a lord of the Realm on my shores. How many invitations have I sent you over the years, twenty, thirty?”
“Apologies, but I am a busy man with little time for leisure.”
“All work and no play is bad for the soul. One must always make time for leisure, indulgence, and fulfilling one’s desires.” He shot a suggestive grin to Dove and Celeste, wiggling his thick eyebrows.
Dove giggled, smacking her hand over her mouth. This guy was a riot. Marcus was nuts to have passed up his invitations all these years.
“Not to worry, though, my friend, I have the perfect solution,” Xavier said to Marcus. “For you, I’ve selected only the finest accommodations. Cleo,” he bellowed over his shoulder, and the woman scurried over.
Keeping with the Grecian theme, Cleo was dressed in a tunic-style dress. Embroidery highlighted her ample cleavage, and a golden rope cinched her waist. Sleek black hair hung in a shiny curtain down her back.
“Cleo will escort you to your rooms. I’ve taken the liberty of scheduling a full day of spa treatments for your party. Also, I insist you and your lovely companion join me for dinner this evening. I’ve invited a few guests to accompany us. People whose company I’m certain you will find interesting. In the meantime, please make yourself at home and let my staff know if there is anything else you need.”
“Understood,” Marcus said, his tone strangely clipped.
“This way, please.” Cleo led the way to their rooms, her movements graceful.
Dove and the others trailed behind her. As they left Xavier, another wisp of his cologne hit Dove’s nostrils, and she filled her lungs with his delightful scent. Her lady bits warmed, and she exhaled a soft moan.
“Smell something you like?” Marcus said, his voice a low, teasing murmur in her ear.
Dove fanned her heated cheeks. “Just taking in the fresh ocean breeze.”
“Um-hum,” he hummed in a mocking tone.
She frowned. What was that about? Did he know something she didn’t? Before she could ask, they entered the breezeway. Great pillars with stone arches lined the corridor, the walls open to the elements. Outside was an artfully landscaped courtyard full of tropical flowers. “Oh my goodness. I already love this place and we haven’t even seen the rooms yet.”
After two more corridors, Cleo led them to a pair of heavy white doors, their ornate molding highlighted with gold. She opened both sides with a flourish and entered the room. “Your suite, Lord Steele. Accommodations for your staff are farther down the hallway.”
Before Dove could follow, Marcus snared her arm, holding her back. Bishop walked past them, did a quick sweep of the space, and nodded to Marcus. Celeste and Dove hustled inside, Dove nearly skipping, she was so excited.
She spun in a circle, taking in what seemed to be more of a private villa than a suite. Here too, the decor was Atlantean in nature. “Would you look at this place?” In the lounge area were two curved sofas overflowing with pillows in shades of turquoise and cerulean. Along one wall was a fully stocked bar with cobalt drinkware. Beside that was a pedestal-style table with four chairs.
Celeste walked to a pair of large balcony doors. She peered out and whistled through her teeth. “Have you seen this view? I mean, I once owned a shower curtain that looked just like this. Ocean in the background, sandy beach, palm trees blowing in the breeze.”
“As per your request, there are two separate bedrooms,” Cleo said, sliding a sympathetic glance at Dove before sidling next to Marcus. She scanned his hooded form, a heated look in her eyes. “If there is anything you need, please let me or a member of our staff know. Here at Adara Island, it’s our mission to fulfill our guests’ every desire.”
Dove glared at the brazen woman, fists clenching. How dare she make assumptions about her and Marcus? Not that there was anything intimate between Dove and her benefactor, but Cleo had no right to dismiss her so easily.
“That is all, for now,” Marcus responded, stepping back, sinking deeper into the shadows of his cowl.
Dove’s tension eased at his curt dismissal. Ha! Take that, Cleo.
The woman’s sultry expression darkened with disappointment. “Very well. Enjoy your stay.” With that, she slipped out, closing the doors behind her.
Bishop and Marcus set about exploring the space. The werewolf grabbed the door to one of the bedrooms and yanked on it, testing the hinges. Seeming appeased, next he jimmied the doorframe. “Construction is sturdy enough. Only two ways in or out. Windows could be a problem, though.”
“Bishop. Take care of that infernal sunlight,” Marcus ordered.
“On it.” Bishop fiddled with a switch on the wall. Motors whirled and honeycomb blinds slid between the windowpanes. Dove sighed, watching the cheerful light dull to a lifeless shade of tan.
Their luggage rested beside the door, delivered in advance by Xavier’s efficient staff. Marcus grabbed one of the smaller cases, withdrew his laptop, and set it on the table. Over his shoulder, he ordered, “Celeste, Dove, get that ward in place. We have much to do before the dinner party tonight. Apparently, it’s a couples’ event.”
Dove’s breath caught. “Couples?” She shoved down the tingling feeling, knowing they were anything but a couple. “You’re inviting me because Bishop wouldn’t look good in the dress?”
Celeste snorted a laugh and was quickly silenced by the hard glare Bishop tossed her way.
“Just make sure the ward is finished and you’re ready on time.”
Dove huffed a disgruntled sigh. Instead of taking a moment to appreciate the space, both Marcus and Bishop were focused on business. “Fine.” She stomped to her suitcase.
Celeste followed, muttering to Dove under her breath. “Tropical paradise and all they want to do is work.”
“Let’s finish this quick so we can hit the spa,” Dove whispered.
Bishop paused to stare at the two of them, thick brow lowered. Oops. Curse his supernatural hearing.
“Fast isn’t always bad. Not everyone is a fan of a slow-burn,” Celeste defended, meeting the werewolf’s eyes. Dove winced at the double meaning. If this thing between Celeste and the werewolf moved any slower, they’d be in reverse.
Supplies in hand, they headed to the nearest bedroom. Celeste closed the door halfway, speaking to Bishop through the opening. “Secret girl spell-casting stuff. Best performed in the nude. We’ll let you know when we’re done.” With that, she pushed it shut on the bodyguard’s dumfounded expression.
Dove giggled, dropped her bag into a chair, and flung herself onto the bed. Celeste did the same, flopping next to her.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Celeste. This wouldn’t be any fun without you.”
“I’m glad I’m here too.” She laughed. “Oh, but that Bishop. How I would love to knock the starch out of his boxers.”
Dove snickered. “Good luck with that one. I’m pretty sure his heart is made of stone. How fast do you think we can get this ward done and bail?”
Dove had told Celeste as little as possible about the reason for the warding. Dove being a necromancer, her friend assumed she was having issues with a particularly pesky spirit. When Celeste realized she was getting a free vacation out of the deal, she stopped asking questions.
“Two hours, since you plan to ward the entire room. You sure you want me to leave a doorway? You’ll have to remember to seal it once you’re inside.”
“I’m sure.”
“Look, I know I said I wouldn’t ask any questions, but wouldn’t it just be easier if you blasted this stalker ghost into the ether?”
Dove huffed a sigh. Some days, she’d like to blast the host and keep the spirit. “It’s complicated.”
“Gotcha,” Celeste said, her dubious tone indicating the opposite. “Sooo…” she drawled. “Separate bedrooms.”
“Yep.”
“You’re not…”
“Nope.” Not only were they not sharing a bed, she wasn’t even sharing a vein with Steele. Her heart twisted at the reminder. What was his deal with that, anyway? Did he think her so far beneath him as to not even feed from her?
“Ah, so I imagine this is also—”
“Complicated.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” Dove lurched up on her elbow, gazing at Celeste. “Because I sure don’t. Maybe you could explain it to me. One minute I feel as though we’re connecting, that he’s warming up to me, and the next he’s a popsicle.
“Like he’s two people living in the same hunky body and you just want to break past his gruff exterior to reveal the man underneath.” Celeste sighed, her eyes turning dreamy.
Dove quirked a brow. “Hold on, are we still talking about Marcus?”
“Sure.” She tucked her arms under her head, scowling at the ceiling.
“What do you suggest I do?” This was usually the kind of thing she’d consult Vivian or Armond about.
Celeste hitched her shoulders. “Hit the spa, get a makeover, and take his breath away at the party tonight.”
Dove snorted. That wasn’t the answer she was hoping for, but it could work. Or not. “I get the feeling I could walk in wearing nothing but a feather boa and he’d still look through me.”
“Ha!” Celeste barked a laugh. “I’d like to see that. I bet Xavier throws one heck of a party. Seriously, what’s with that guy? He’s so, I don’t know…”
“Appealing, in all the wrong ways?”
“Yeah, like a chocolate you’ve dropped on the floor. You know it’s dirty, but you still want to pick it up, dust it off, and take a bite. Am I right?”
“So right,” Dove exhaled. “And the way he smells. Did you notice that?”
“Like coconut, vanilla and sultry sunsets.”
Strange. Dove hadn’t picked up any of those fragrances. Still, he did smell delicious. “Bet Xavier’s parties are just as decadent. No way I’m letting my workaholic benefactor ruin this experience.” One night of fun wasn’t too much to ask.
“Right on, sister.” Celeste rolled out of bed. “Let’s get to work so we can carve your pumpkin, Cinderella.”
Dove lurched upright, spurred by a burst of motivation. “Sooner we’re done, the sooner I can hit the spa.” Tonight, she wanted to be as dazzling as Xavier himself.