Shaded Vision (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #11)

Shaded Vision (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #11) Page 2

Sharah leaned across the table. “Nerissa’s counseling is helping. At least Hyto didn’t infect her with any disease.”

“My sister’s a rock, though Hyto almost smashed her to bits. But she always pulls through.”

I couldn’t forgive our father, though, for not standing up for her after he knew what had happened. That he’d sat in our living room, listening as she told him what horrors the crazed dragon had put her through, and then chosen to leave, had hardened my heart to him. His own daughter, kidnapped and raped, and he walked away. Our cousin Shamas had threatened to go home and confront him about it. We persuaded him to hold off, but I had the feeling he was so pissed that he might do so without our consent.

Iris tapped her fingers on the table in time to the music as the others returned from the dance floor.

“Did you want to dance?” Menolly asked.

She shook her head. “Not the best idea. Stomach’s queasy.”

Sharah handed her a packet of saltines. “Here, these will help.”

Iris munched on them. “I see presents—and they’re unopened.” Her eyes glittered as she motioned to the stack of boxes on the side table. We’d brought gifts from the guys, too.

“Not just yet,” I said, glancing at Camille and Menolly. I’d been in charge of the party, much to their dismay, and one of the first things I’d decided was we were going to entertain Iris to the max. “Up, you two.”

Camille grimaced. “Oh please, do we have to?”

“Yes, as excruciating as Delilah’s yowls can be. We have to.” Menolly’s eyes were pale as frost, but she smiled a toothy grin. “Come on.”

A path opened in front of our table to reveal the stage and a karaoke machine. I snickered.

“You just wait. I’ll get you for this.” Camille shook her head, leaping lightly up on the stage.

“Hey, Menolly’s not complaining.”

“She can sing! You and I are pathetic…well…mostly.”

We clambered up on the stage and Menolly swung around in front of us, striking a pose with legs spread and both hands around the microphone. Camille and I took up our stations as her backup singers. The music swept in, and, with a deep breath, we dove into our rendition of “We Are Family.”

We turned on the glamour, dropping our masks so our charm shone through, and the crowd went wild, laughing with us and clapping along. We spun and twisted to the music, throwing our hearts into it. Even though Camille and I weren’t that great in the vocal department, we warbled away while Menolly carried the song. We’d been practicing in secret for over a week now, and though we weren’t polished, we were doing a pretty good job keeping a beat to the music.

Menolly leaped off the stage, carrying the microphone with her, and danced her way over to Iris. Gently lifting the sprite onto her shoulder, with another leap she made her way back onto the stage, where she set Iris down and we surrounded her, singing as she clapped and swayed to the music.

People started throwing dollars on the stage, “for the bride,” and by the time we finished, jazz hands and all, we’d collected seventy-five bucks and a couple rounds of free drinks, which put an end to Camille’s and my being able to sing anything.

“You guys are great,” Iris said as we headed back to the table. “And thank you. Presents now?”

I laughed, a little too loud, and burped. How many drinks had I managed to put away? I counted—there were only four glasses in front of me, but the Demented Zombie was one hell of a drink and packed a punch. I wasn’t sure what was in it, but it was better than catnip.

I glanced around. I’d arranged for some special entertainment for the evening and—and…there he was. The guy was fine, gorgeous, with dark hair to his shoulders. Even beneath his policeman’s outfit, it was obvious that he was ripped. I motioned to him and he sidled over to the table. The music dimmed and everyone around us turned to watch.

“Are you Iris Kuusi?” His voice was smooth—so smooth it made me want to slide up against him.

She blushed bright red and her eyes glistened. “Yes…?”

“Iris Kuusi, you have the right to scream as loud as you want. You have the right to let me arouse you—” And with that, he motioned to someone at the counter, and Amanda Blank blared out from the speakers as his hips began to move.

He was a great dancer, keeping up to the beat in perfect rhythm with the rapper even as he—woo-hoo! There went the jacket, tossed on the ground near him. As he slid his hands to the cuffs of his shirt, he jerked and the shirt landed in Iris’s lap. Gleaming muscles flexed as he clasped his hands behind his head and swiveled his hips in a move that put Elvis the Pelvis to shame.

“Wow,” Sharah said, breathing softly. “Just…Wow…”

“Wow is right.” I felt a little glassy-eyed myself. He looked far better than I thought he would and his dance was just…well…the way he moved his hips had me thinking about a different kind of bump and grind. Oh yeah.

Camille was looking at him suspiciously, and Menolly looked bored, staring at the crowd, but Nerissa, Sharah, and Iris were all fixated on the dancer. He slid his hips from side to side and caught my attention once again, as he grabbed hold of the waistband and—just like that—the pants flew off and over to the side.

Now in a tight G-string leaving nothing to the imagination, with fringe shimmering down the sides and in front, he began to gyrate toward Iris, whose eyes had gone immensely wide as she stared at what was coming toward her.

I was staring, too, but suddenly realized that my attention was no longer on the stripper, but on his fringe. Boy, that fringe looked like it would be fun to play with—to bat around, to yank on, to chew on…to…

Before I could stop myself, I was shifting right at the table. A few screams echoed around me, but mostly, I heard a lot of laughter. None of it mattered as I pounced on the object of my lust. Those strings—those glorious strings, all dangling and fluttering, calling my name—and all I wanted to do was reach out and grab one and have my way with it.

“Delilah! No!” Camille’s voice echoed from across the table, but the fringe was too pretty and too dangly. The next thing I knew, I’d sideswiped Stripper Boy’s thigh and was hanging from his G-string, several of the pieces of fringe in my mouth, tugging on it.

“What the fuck? Where’d the cat come from?” The guy suddenly didn’t sound quite as thrilled as I felt. As he tried to pull away, I yanked harder.

Menolly put her arms around my tummy and tried to pry me away. Determined that the fringe was going to come with me—it was my toy, damn it—I held on for dear life.

Riiiippppppp…and the G-string gave way. Triumphant, I gripped the fringed banana hammock in my mouth and shook it, purring. I glanced up at Menolly, waiting for my praise. The least she could do was tell me what a good girl I was.

The stripper, trying to get away from my claws, fell toward Iris in the process but managed to catch himself on the edge of the table. Iris stared at the dangling penis that now hung free as a bird, hovering inches away from her face. She looked fascinated at first—or so I thought from my cat’s fuzzy brain—but then as she opened her mouth to speak, she started to cough and, the next moment, vomited all over the stripper’s goodies.

From there, it was all downhill. There was no way to salvage the evening after that. As the stripper disgustedly wiped down with a towel the barkeep gave him, I managed to gain enough control to shift back. Still tipsy, and with the taste of sweat-soaked G-string in my mouth, I cleared my throat, trying to stay steady on my feet.

Iris was wiping her mouth, totally embarrassed. Sharah and Menolly were taking care of the stripper—I saw a few extra twenties pass hands. Camille had moved over to their side.

“Dude, you’ve got some sort of glamour going on. Don’t deny it—I can sense it a mile away. You’re an FBH—full-blooded human. So what gives?” Her voice was low, but loud enough for me to catch.

He jerked his head up and stared at her. “Babe, I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t even try blowing smoke with me, dude. You have no clue who you’re dealing with. I just want to know where you got the potion. There’ll be an extra fifty in it if you tell me the truth. And I’ll know if you lie.” She pulled out her purse and waved a fifty-dollar bill under his nose.

He paused, then cleared his throat. I tried to focus on what he was saying, but it was hard because the drinks and shifting and the promise of those dangling fringe pieces had all clouded my mind.

After a moment, the stripper shrugged. “What the hell. Why not? I got it from a little shop in south Seattle. Name’s Alchemy for Lovers, and they said that if I put three drops on my dick before a performance, it would increase my profits. Boy, were they right.” He gave a sideways glance to Iris, then me. “Well, until tonight, that is. Damn stuff burns a bit, but hey, it makes sex better, too.”

He sounded vaguely hopeful, but Camille motioned for him to leave.

The bartender was giving us dirty looks, so Menolly gathered up the presents. With Nerissa carrying the cake and Camille helping to guide me, we stumbled out to the limo. Tony was waiting for us right where he’d parked. He opened the doors and we crawled in.

Nerissa sat up front with him, holding the cake; Camille and Iris sat on one side, while Menolly, Sharah, and I sat on the other side of the backseat, and we set off for home to finish partying where we wouldn’t chance ruining anybody else’s evening.

We pulled in the driveway and slid out of the limo just in time to see Vanzir and Roz tossing each other around the yard. They were both stripped to their waists, oiled down, and involved in what looked like some sort of Greco-Roman wrestling match.

“What the hell…?” Camille stared at them, then shook her head.

“I’m not even going to ask.” My head was pounding. Apparently the Demented Zombies weren’t agreeing with me. As I squinted, I saw Bruce stumbling around, chasing a dog that looked suspiciously like Speedo, the neighbor’s basset hound. He was carrying a pair of bunny ears. Bruce, that is. Not Speedo.

“Holy crap, how much have they had to drink?”

“I dunno, but we’ve got a pair of dragons on the roof.” She pointed to where Smoky and Shade were sitting on top of the roof, dangling their legs over the side. Neither looked too cozy, but they were talking and not arguing for once. A pile of rocks near the cars told us they’d been taking potshots. At least they hadn’t broken any windshields.

As we stumbled our way into the house, we found cousin Shamas, Morio, and Chase in the living room, playing poker. The table was covered with change and dollar bills, and it looked like Chase was wiping the floor with both of them. Empty bottles of Nebelvuourian brandy and Elqaneve wine were strewn about, along with a couple empties of Irish whiskey. The smell of cigars made me want to hurl, and I glanced at Camille, who was also wrinkling her nose. She opened the window to air out the place.

“Honey, you’re home!” Morio glanced up at Camille. As he stood up, he tripped and went sprawling at her feet, where he stayed down, reaching out to play with her strappy shoes.

“You’re drunk.” She moved her feet just out of reach.

“Ya think?” Morio burped and promptly dragged himself to his feet, where he threw one arm around her shoulders and one arm around Menolly’s. Camille glanced at Menolly, who quickly sidestepped out of Morio’s embrace. He still wasn’t over the bond that had developed when some of her blood was injected into his veins, but Menolly seemed to have shaken it off…or at least she acted like it.

“You’re all drunk.” I glanced around as Shade and Smoky followed us in, clutching Bruce between them. “Well, maybe not those two, but geez…”

The pair seemed relatively sober, but then again, they were dragons and it probably took a whole keg of hard liquor to even begin to get a dragon bombed.

Smoky took the cake from Sharah and carried it to the kitchen, returning with Trillian, who had his nose in a book. One look at Iris’s pained face and Trillian set down the book and slipped back into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a package of saltines and some ginger ale. She smiled and sipped the soft drink.

As the guys sprawled out in the living room and we joined them, Iris made the mistake of telling them about the stripper.

Smoky leaned forward, his eyes whirling. “You watched another man remove his clothing for entertainment?” He glared at Camille.

“Chill out, Iris threw up on him and that killed the mood.”

Trillian snorted. “You’re lucky we live Earthside and not back in Otherworld. You’d be punching out guys right and left for the way they look at Camille there. Get used to it. Your wife’s hot and people notice.”

“Smoky, give it a rest. Trillian’s right. Just accept it and move on,” Iris grumbled. “And it’s not my fault that I have morning sickness all the damned day!” She looked hurt and Camille slipped over to give her a hug, then settled onto Smoky’s lap. His hair reached up to stroke her shoulders and entwine around her waist.

“I’ll bet the gentleman wasn’t expecting that response.” Shade laughed.

“I’m not so sure he was that much of a gentleman.” Camille repeated what the dancer had told her about the potion and the shop. “Sounds like sorcery to me. I don’t like it.”

I was about to say something when the phone rang. Yugi’s voice echoed through the line.

“Delilah?” Yugi was Chase’s second in command at the FH-CSI—the Faerie-Human Crime Scene Investigation unit. And he sounded so frantic I could barely understand him. “Please, we need you over here now. Sharah and Chase especially. It’s an emergency.”