“Wanna bet?” Dana jumped from her seat and pivoted. “See? Easy as pie.” Squaring her shoulders, she stalked in the direction of her booth.
Aiden stared at the back of Jace’s head as his brother rifled through the glove box of their rented Lincoln Navigator. “What are you doing?”
“Scavenging.” Jace clicked the compartment shut with a disgusted exhale. “Why can’t anyone accidentally leave behind an envelope stuffed with cash? Or even some good porn. Shit, I’d settle for that.” Looking severely put out, he slumped against the leather seat.
The perky voice on the GPS unit announced a turn ahead and Aiden flipped on the Navigator’s signal.
“How much longer?”
“You have reached your destination,” the GPS chirped.
Jace grunted. “Guess that answers my question.”
Aiden pulled into the small parking lot for Fancies, Dana Cooper’s art gallery. The only other vehicle was a beat-up yellow station wagon. He coasted to a stop in the space beside it and shut off the engine. Jace followed him inside the small, red-bricked building. A large painting of frolicking nude fairies hung on the far wall. Below it, a young male dressed entirely in black was busy arranging psychedelically colorful glass frogs on a low table.
The kid straightened the instant he spotted them, a provocative grin lighting his face. “Well, double my pleasure and double my fun. Anything I can help you boys find?”
“Yeah. Dana Cooper,” Jace said, beating Aiden to the punch.
“Sorry, she’s working the festival this weekend.”
Aiden frowned. “Festival?”
“You know, the Ren fair. Lords and ladies and knights…” the kid’s gaze traveled leisurely to the crotch of Aiden’s jeans, “…with big swords.”
Aiden grimaced. Jesus, nothing worse than cheesy sexual innuendo. Especially from a leering dude. “What’s the best way to get there?”
“Dana drew a map. It’s posted on the front window if you want to copy it down.”
Snapping his fingers at Jace—who was staring intently at the nude fairies—Aiden strode to the exit.
“Don’t you two hunks be strangers now.” The kid’s husky laugh trailed them to the door.
Outside, Aiden snatched the map taped to the window. Dana would probably be ticked about him absconding with it, but tough shit. He didn’t have the patience, or a paper and pen to jot down the information. They hopped into the Navigator and he handed the map to Jace. While his brother punched the address into the GPS, Aiden backed out of the lot and headed for the freeway.
A companionable silence enveloped the cab of the SUV for the next thirty minutes, until they reached the turnoff for Dixie Highway. Jace slid his mirrored sunglasses off and hooked them over his visor before glancing at Aiden. “I’ve waited over twenty-four hours now for you to explain why the hell you changed your mind about the contract.”
Aiden reflexively squeezed the steering wheel tighter. “Mom.”
Apparently he didn’t need to elaborate further because Jace nodded. “The old lady can be mighty persuasive when she wants.”
“I couldn’t let her down. Or the clan.”
“Yep, sucks to be you.”
He tried to detect any bitterness in Jace’s tone but couldn’t read anything beyond his brother’s typical sarcasm. “I’ve been meaning to ask how you feel about the council’s decision to name me Supreme Alpha.”
Jace shrugged. “Hell, better you than me.”
Did he mean it? Or was Jace merely putting on a good front?
“That must be the festival ahead,” Jace said, breaking Aiden from his mental rambling.
A line of cars clogged the road, all of them with their left-turn signals blinking. He slowed and clicked his indicator on. Crawling along, they finally made it to the head of the line and the traffic controller directed them into the enormous field being used for parking. Large flags that resembled the royal banners medieval knights carried as they charged into battle lined the roadway, flapping festively in the wind. Since the lot was crammed to the gills Aiden grabbed the first available spot and counted himself lucky. By the time they reached the fake castle towers marking the entrance to the fair, he was damn certain he’d sweated off half of his body weight.
Jace slid him a look and grinned. “Shit, Dana’s gonna catch one look at us and run for the hills.”
“She’s going to run no matter what, once she finds out who the hell we are.” Aiden crossed to the ticket booth and paid for their passes. He waved off the costumed performer who tried to sucker him into dropping ten bucks for a program.
“That dude is wearing tights,” Jace grumbled. “What the fuck is the world coming to?”
“Would you quit checking out the guy’s package and get a move on? We need to find her booth.”
Other than a low grumble, Jace thankfully kept his yap shut. For two seconds. “Goddamn, get a load of that turkey leg.” His enraptured stare trailed after a chubby court jester gnawing on a huge drumstick.
Grasping the back of his brother’s tee shirt, Aiden steered Jace forward. They had one purpose for being here and he wasn’t about to let Jace get sidetracked by a five-pound turkey leg. Digging in the rear pocket of his jeans, he removed the map Dana had sketched. Locating her vendor number, he hauled Jace toward Tree Top Lane.
A strolling minstrel plucked the opening bars of Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” on his lute. Yeah, that was a big hit during the dark ages. Grunting, Aiden scanned the wooden signposts of the adjacent booths. A stiff wind kicked up, rattling the leaves of the nearby maples. A cacophony of scent eddied in the air. Frankincense and patchouli incense. Cinnamon-coated almonds. A whiff of roasted meat. Presiding over all the delectable aromas was something more subtle. An intoxicatingly sweet pheromone that coaxed a flash-fire inside him.
Slowly, he turned. A woman dressed in a period costume stood outside one of the artist’s huts, talking to an older lady with a wild bush of purple hair. With his supernaturally acute eyesight, he easily detected the frown lines tweaking the narrow bridge between the younger woman’s blonde eyebrows. He battled the strange, overwhelming urge to rush to her side and smooth the small furrow away with his thumb.
Sunlight streamed through the tree canopy, turning her cascading curls into a river of molten gold. His head and heart pounded and his cock swelled painfully against the fly of his jeans.
Everything faded to gray. In that moment, fate roared its evil laugh. Because no matter how much this mission was a disaster in the making, he’d never be able to walk away from her.
“Haddie, for the millionth time, stop worrying.” Fighting off the urge to roll her eyes, Dana rearranged the watercolor print on the outdoor display rack before ducking inside the booth. “The oracle isn’t going to be ticked because I’m choosing to ignore its message.”
“I’ve been reading tarot for over fifty years, missy. Trust me, the oracle does not like to be ignored.”
Dana swiveled in time to catch Haddie wagging a finger in her direction. “What’s the worst it can do? Send the ghost of Elvis to my bedside to keep me up all night with his a cappella styling’s of ‘Jail House Rock’?”
“Ooh, you are really going to regret that suggestion.” Haddie threw her arms skyward and the elaborate brass bangles around her wrists clanged together musically. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She floated from the booth in a swirl of lavender cape.
“Hey, I have a stockpile of earplugs. I’m covered.” Dana stooped and flipped back the corner of the velvet skirting that hid the storage area beneath the display shelves. She reached for the weatherproof plastic tub that held her spare prints and her boobs inched toward the danger zone. “Oh for Pete’s sake.” Growling, she tugged the burgundy corset firmly in place. “I swear if I had a time machine, I’d travel to the sixteenth century and kick the ass of whoever first envisioned this ridiculous getup.”