Vanessa Unveiled (12 page)

His wounded sigh impressively dramatic, Gus preceded her down the steps. A trio of fairies lifted their flutes and filled the air with their sweet music, hushing the assemblage. Every head turned in Vanessa’s direction, but the only ones that truly mattered were Rand’s and Braeden’s. Even from several yards away, there was no mistaking the love reflecting in their eyes—a mirror to the emotion welling within her soul. Overwhelming happiness and a deep sense of rightness settled over her. For once in her life, no fearful voice held her back.

Quickening her pace, she followed Gus down the flower-strewn runner, her focus locked on Rand and Braeden. As if picking up on the joyful calling in her heart, her two mates reached for her, pulling her into the circle of their arms. The three of them indulged in a passionate kiss that resulted in ribald catcalls from the wedding guests and an inappropriate comment from Gus that earned him an ear tweak from Vanessa. His cheeks blazing red, Pastor Fowler cleared his throat. “If everyone’s ready, we’ll begin. Do we have the unity rings?”

Tabby joined them and after gifting Vanessa, Rand and Braeden with fierce hugs, she passed over the rings. Each gold band was inscribed with a manitope clover leaf—the symbol of eternity within the pooka community. Vanessa’s eyes welled up all over again as Rand and Braeden each kissed her fingertips before sliding her ring in place. When it came time for her to repeat the gesture for her mates, the tears she valiantly tried to blink away broke loose. Not so long ago, she would have felt ridiculous, exposing her emotions in front of a crowd of strangers. But almost losing Rand and Braeden had changed everything. She’d never again take love for granted, and she didn’t care if the entire universe knew it.

After they each spoke the vows that would forever seal their mated bond, and Pastor Fowler pronounced them husband, husband and wife, Rand and Braeden shared the honor of tipping her into their arms and beelining for the cottage. More wicked hooting and hollering erupted from the assembled guests, and Vanessa gave a mock sigh. “You do realize we’ll be the talk of Pitticairn for at least the next century, right?”

Their grins completely unrepentant, Rand and Braeden hustled toward the porch steps, but drew to a halt when Cooper McKenzie blocked their path. Her ex-boss looked a little embarrassed about thwarting a mid-wedding nookie session. As he should be.

“Uh, Vanessa, do you have a moment?”

“Nope.” Hooking her arms tighter around her mates when they started to set her on her feet, she glared at Cooper. “You’re
not
ruining my wedding day by begging me for the millionth time to come back to the agency.”

“Sweetest, maybe you should at least hear the man out.”

“Rand’s right, darlin’. You don’t want to make a decision like this without getting all the details first.” Braeden gave Cooper a shrewd look. “I’m sure your former employer would be more than willing to double your salary and give you an extra two weeks of vacation.”

Cooper’s cheeks paled as he obviously mulled over the huge hissy management would throw regarding those demands. After an awkward hesitation where he avoided Rand’s and Braeden’s threatening looks, he cleared his throat and nodded. “Of course.”

“Thanks but no thanks.” She transferred her narrow-eyed stare to Braeden and Rand. “As for you both. I see one of two choices here. Either I yell at you guys for not believing me when I said I was done with bounty hunting. Or you can take me inside and eat wedding cake—off my breasts.”

Sliding Cooper an apologetic glance, her mates rushed her up the steps. Once inside the cottage, they didn’t immediately pounce on her. At least not in the way she was hoping for. But she could see from the look in Rand’s eyes that he wasn’t yet ready to let the issue with her now-defunct career drop.

His gaze worried, Rand cupped her cheek. “Nessie, Brae and I don’t want you to give up what you love to do because of us. As much as we hate the idea of you being away from us for even a day, we want you to be happy.”

Her irritation instantly evaporated and she could feel her eyes going misty again. “How the hell am I supposed to stay mad at you after you say something sweet like that?”

Braeden leaned down and kissed her before brushing away one of the tears stubbornly clinging to her lashes. “You’re everything to us, baby. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

After a lifetime of being used by others for her abilities, their unconditional love was like a balm to her battered soul. “I don’t need a damn job to make me happy, or give me a false sense of identity anymore. I know who I am.” She laced her fingers with theirs. “I’m a woman who is truly loved.”

“Yes, sweetest. You are.”

Braeden echoed the sentiment with a soft kiss on her brow. She ran her fingertips along his smoothly shaved jaw before smiling impishly. “Besides, chasing veil jumpers down hillsides can’t be good for a pregnant woman.”

It took exactly twenty seconds for her statement to register with Rand and Braeden. Once it did, they both gaped at her, speechless.

“I was going to wait and tell you after I had my doc back home verify the home pregnancy test, but I—”

“You’re going to have a baby?” Rand broke in, his expression suitably stunned. “
Our
baby?”

Braeden shook his head, equally shocked. “But…how? Our DNA…”

“Apparently isn’t so incompatible after all.” Her chuckle petered off when she realized Rand and Braeden weren’t exactly whooping with joy. “Y-you guys are okay with it, right? I mean, I know the last thing you expected was a—”

Rand tugged her forward, his mouth stopping her flow of words. His hands cradling her head, he inched away enough to make room for Braeden to take his turn kissing away her doubts. By the time they were finished, she was breathless and dizzy. “So I take it you’re okay with becoming dads?”

“We’re going to be dads. Holy shit. Speaking of which…” His mouth stretching into a wide grin, Braeden clamped a hand on Rand’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to see you change dirty diapers.”

“Same goes for me, smartass. Plus we’ll see how long it takes you to toss your cookies the first time the baby spits up on you.”

Braeden snorted. “You know better than anyone that I have zero gag reflex.”

Smiling like a fool, Vanessa leaned against the kitchen counter. Three months ago, the idea of poopy diapers, baby spit up and pookas with amazing gag reflexes making her insanely happy would have been crazy. Now she couldn’t imagine her life any other way. Rand and Braeden stopped teasing each other and pulled her toward the bedroom.

She cocked her eyebrows. “Uh, guys? I think you’re forgetting something.” They both looked at her expectantly and she nodded toward the cake resting on the granite countertop.

Rand chuckled devilishly. “Ah yes. Lovemaking is so much better with buttercream frosting.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.”

She batted her eyelashes. “Sex and dessert. You guys really are my perfect soul mates.”

Giving a sexy growl, Braeden nibbled her neck before carrying her into the bedroom and tossing her onto the bed. She landed with a bounce, her laugh trailing off as Rand settled the cake on the dresser and stripped out of his tux. Her gaze fell on the newest addition to his collection of tattoos—a unique combination of his and Braeden’s clan symbols interwoven with her name. The first time she saw the beautiful design, tangible proof of the family she’d never dared to believe in, she’d cried. As it was, she could feel her eyes getting suspiciously prickly again.

Apparently intuiting that she was five seconds away from bawling and ruining the mood, Braeden distracted her with his own naughty little strip tease. His grin impish, he scooped up a glob of frosting and painted a smiley face on his cock.

She couldn’t resist giggling. “He almost looks as blissfully happy as I am.” And with that declaration made, she tugged Rand and Braeden down next to her and proceeded to indulge in two servings of pooka. With a side dish of wedding cake.

About the Author

At the ripe age of seven, Jodi Redford penned her first epic, complete with stick figure illustrations. Sadly, her drawing skills haven’t improved much, but her love of fantasy worlds never went away. These days she writes about fairies, ghosts and other supernatural creatures, only with considerably more heat.

She has won numerous contests, including The Golden Pen and Launching a Star.

When not writing or working the day job, she enjoys gardening and way too many reality television shows.

Currently residing in Michigan with her husband and overgrown lapdog, she is a member of RWA national and Greater Detroit Romance Writers of America.

She loves to hear from readers. You can email her at
[email protected]
and visit her online at
www.jodiredford.com
.

Look for these titles by Jodi Redford

Now Available:

Taking Liberty

Light My Fire

Thieves of Aurion

Lover Enslaved

That Old Black Magic

That Voodoo You Do

Coming Soon:

That Old Black Magic

The Seven Year Witch

Something dead this way comes…

That Voodoo You Do

© 2010 Jodi Redford

That Old Black Magic, Book 1

For ten long years Griffin Trudeau has managed to keep his paws off Jemma Finnegan, best friend and leading star of his kinkiest fantasies. As her appointed cat familiar, indulging those fantasies with the delectable witch is strictly forbidden. But when Jemma shows up at his door with seduction in mind, control goes right out the window.

Too late he realizes making love to Jemma is the trigger that launches a zombie apocalypse.

Jemma’s been dealt a double whammy: she’s just discovered she’s a witch. And Griff has been hiding whiskers and a tail. Oh, and if her life wasn’t crazy enough, a dead voodoo queen needs her blood to raise a legion of zombies.

There’s one plan that might work to increase Jemma’s powers so she can put an end to the looming holocaust. A sexy threesome with Griff and Logan Scott, a werewolf familiar with a history of rubbing Griff’s fur the wrong way. A cat and a wolf playing nice, much less sharing? It’ll take a miracle.

Warning: A witch, tiger and wolf doing naughty things. A dead voodoo queen doing evil things. And zombies doing zombie things. Get your shovels ready.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
That Voodoo You Do:

“So what’s going on in there?”

Logan propped his elbow against the frame, giving her a close-up view of his barbed-wire tat. Now that she thought about it, the symbolism seemed appropriate. Tangling with the lusty werewolf was bound to leave a few scratches. “Just Clarissa taking care of some coven business. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over, darlin’.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That managed to be both evasive
and
sexist.”

“Damn, and here I wasn’t even tryin’.” He chuckled. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, she reached around him for the doorknob. He scooted sideways, forcing her hand to smack into his abdomen instead. His bare, firm-as-marble abdomen. Her fingertips brushed the warm hollow of skin resting just above the low rise of his button fly. Sucking in a sharp breath, she yanked her arm away and shuffled back several steps.

Logan’s irises shimmered with amusement and heat. “Don’t stop now. Things were just getting interesting.”

“I, uh, just have to go and…um…yeah.” She spun and stumbled in the direction of the kitchen before she did something really stupid, like follow the silky trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of Logan’s jeans. With her tongue. That thought sent her tripping through the entry of the kitchen. She jerked to a halt when she spotted Griff in front of the stove, stirring the contents of a large stockpot. He was notably shirtless too, which put the mouthwatering expanse of his back on dazzling display. She stared at the muscles shifting beneath all that golden, velvety skin, her suspicions bubbling. It was too damn weird and convenient that both Logan and Griff were standing around half naked all of a sudden. Unless some devious shirt monster was making its rounds in the neighborhood, there was definitely something afoot.

And where was everyone else, anyway? She craned her neck, scoping the dining alcove for signs of Ms. Peach or Gloria.

“Hey, baby. You’re just in time for a taste test.”

She whipped her head around at Griff’s zippy tone. Now she
knew
something was up. Griff didn’t do chipper, particularly not thirty minutes after snarling at her like a pissed-off Tony the Tiger. “What the hell is going on?”

Griff tried for a guileless look. Oh yeah, he didn’t do innocent well either. “I’m getting lunch ready.”

“Without your shirt on?”

“It’s hot in here.”

Well…that was certainly true. Even without Griff’s muscle-icious torso making her girl parts all warm and tingly, there was no denying the temperature in the kitchen hovered between muggy and melt-your-panties-off miserable.

Griff dug a spoon out of the drawer and ladled some of the sauce he’d been stirring. “Tell me if this needs anything.”

Her intuition warning her to be on the lookout for any sneakiness, she hesitantly crossed to the industrial-sized, stainless-steel stove. She tried to wrestle the spoon from Griff, but he insisted on feeding her the concoction himself. Almost from the instant the tapestry of flavors met her tongue, a seductive ripple of heat unfurled inside her, tightening her nipples beneath the sundress’s snug, smocked bodice. Griff’s thumb traced the outline of her lower lip. Holding her gaze, he lifted his finger and slowly licked it clean. If the humidity didn’t melt the crotch of her panties, Griff demonstrating his perfect oral skills sure as hell would.

“What do you think? A pinch more salt and pepper?”

She stared into Griff’s dark-as-sin pupils. Clearly he was waiting for her to answer, but damn if she could concentrate on anything beyond the flush of arousal making her dizzy with hunger. Only it wasn’t food she was lusting for at the moment. Knees wobbling, she clutched the counter. “W—what’s in that sauce?”