Evie wilted under Meredith’s barrage of venom. Something inside of Addy snapped.
“Evie is not fat.” Addy jabbed the floral scissors in her hand at Meredith for emphasis. “She never was. That’s something you made up out of spite in the seventh grade, because Evie got boobs first and you were jealous. You, on the other hand, have always been a rude bitch. I put up with it in school, but I’m tired of it. Apologize to Evie at once.”
“Me, apologize to that stupid cow? I don’t think so. And you’d better watch your mouth, Addy Corwin, if you hope to keep my business. I’m a very important person in this town.”
The blood sang through Addy’s veins. She was strong. She was invincible. She was tired of Meredith’s crap.
“Here’s the thing, Meredith,” she said. “I don’t want your business. In fact, I don’t want you in my shop. Ever again. You’re a nasty, mean person, and I hope you get pimples all over your tiny little butt so bad you have to eat off the mantel for a month.”
Addy knew she’d scored a direct hit when the Death Starr’s skin went all blotchy and her eyes bugged out.
“You’ll regret this, Addy,” she said. “By the time I’m through with you and Tub O’ Lard you’ll—”
Meredith gave an unladylike grunt and whirled around. “Something stuck me. Somebody jabbed a pin in my—” She tucked in her pelvis, jerking like a marionette. “Stop it! Ouch, oh, my God, that hurts. Help! Somebody help! Ow, ow, ow!”
Clutching her bottom in both hands, she ran out the door.
Chapter Five
Ansgar shut the front door, drowning out the shrill sound of Meredith’s wails.
He turned to Addy with a frown of disapproval. “You see what comes of imparting our gifts to humans, brother?” He spoke with that superior drawl that set Addy’s teeth on edge. “A petty misuse of power.”
His gaze shifted to Evie and softened. “Although in this case, I will admit, the punishment may have been justified. She was a most unpleasant creature, much like the three-tongued adder harpies of Gorth. Still, I cannot think Conall will approve.”
Addy bristled. “Who the Sam Hill is Conall? What are you on about, Blondy? What ‘petty misuse of power’?” She waved her hands in the air. “Never mind, I don’t have time for this.”
Brand stepped closer, his expression intent. “Adara, we must speak. It is of the utmost importance.”
Evie cleared her throat. “Uh, Addy, you haven’t introduced me to your friends.”
“They’re not my friends.”
“Introduce me anyway.”
Addy blew out an impatient breath. “Oh, all right.” She flapped a hand in Brand’s direction. “Evie, this is Brand. The blond guy with the stick up his butt is Ansgar. I met them last night. If you’ll excuse me, I have a million things to do.”
She hurried into the supply room and shut the door. Sagging against the frame in relief, she closed her eyes. She could hear Evie and Brand talking. Their words were indistinct, but the muffled sound of Brand’s deep, rumbling baritone made her want to cry. What was the matter with her? Her skin felt too tight. She was jumpy and on edge, like she’d overdosed on caffeine. One moment she was tearing Meredith a new one—oh, my God, she called the Death Starr a bitch to her face, the small-town equivalent of committing hara-kiri, but boy, it felt good!—and the next moment she wanted to burst into tears.
Her emotions were all over the place. What happened to her hard-won self-control? Must be hormones kicking in. Surely, she wasn’t acting like a lunatic because she was happy to see Tall, Dark, and Frosty again? He walked through her door and her heart started rabbit-kicking like Thumper on speed. Nah, her palpitations had nothing to do with him.
Maybe she had a heart condition. Yeah, that was it. She was probably walking around with a bad ticker. What a relief. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. In the meantime, she needed to get a grip. Places to go, people to plant. The Farris funeral was two hours away.
“Umph.” She stumbled forward as Brand pushed his way into the supply room. He balanced a thermos and a paper plate in one hand.
“I have sustenance, thanks to the beneficence of your friend Evie.” He set the plate and the thermos on a shelf. “You will eat.”
Addy stiffened. You will eat, says the alpha male. Not you should eat or, Addy, won’t you please eat something, but you will eat. “See here, bub, I don’t—”
He jerked her into his arms and kissed her. It took Addy by surprise, that hot, devastating assault on her senses. The man sure knew how to kiss. It also shut her right the hell up; no doubt what he intended all along, the macho jerk. What surprised her was her response. She kissed him right back. No struggling, no murmured protests, no coy attempts to evade his kiss. He put his mouth on hers, and she went from zero to ninety like that. She was heart pine and he was a blow torch, and she went up in flames. She loved it. She couldn’t get enough of it. She wanted to climb the man like a telephone pole.
“You sent me away.” Wrapping his hands in her hair, he pulled her head back and trailed a path of kisses down her throat and along her collarbone. “This I cannot allow. Suppose the djegrali returned and I was not here to protect you?”
There he went again, telling her what she could and could not do. He touched the pulse at the base of her throat with the tip of his tongue and dragged his hot mouth up her throat to nibble at her lips, and she forgot all about being indignant. He coaxed her mouth open and dipped his tongue inside, tasting her, exploring her, his tongue tangling with hers. Her head spun, and her insides went all shivery. She clutched his arms and held on for dear life. She was on fire, she was flying apart. She was losing her mind.
“Let me go, I can’t breathe,” she gasped, trying to break free. It was no use. The man was six feet plus of pure, hard muscle. “I want—I want—”
“I know. I know, little one.” He ran his hands down her back and hiked her skirt over her thighs. His fingertips teased the curves of her buttocks. “It is the first time you’ve used the power, and you burn.”
Power, what power? Her thoughts were hazy with lust. Burn didn’t begin to cover it. More like spontaneously combust. She gave a cry of protest when he slid his hand inside her panties.
“Shh, easy,” he whispered. “Let me help. I know what to do.”
His fingers parted the tender folds and found the sensitive nubbin of flesh hidden within them, and she went off like a rocket. The Big O, la petite mort, only there was nothing little about it. He caught her scream of release in his mouth and held her until the first violent wave of trembling passed. Boneless and weak, she collapsed against him, too spent to object when he pulled out a crate and sat down on it with her in his lap. She relaxed, enjoying the comfortable silence that stretched between them. After a moment, he retrieved the thermos and the plate of banana bread from the shelf.
Breaking off a bite-size piece of the bread, he held it to her lips. “Eat, and then we will talk.”
She shook her head. “No, thanks, I’m not hungry.”
“Nonetheless you will eat.” She shook her head, and his voice deepened to that low, purring growl that sent shivers up and down her spine. “For me, you will do this.”
“Oh, all right.” Unable to resist the entreaty in his voice, she