“You know your girl’s a whore, right?” The red headed woman with the most enormous pair of breasts he’d ever seen leaned around her shoulder to look at him. “She’s been sleeping with my fiancé.”
He recognized the caustic shrill tone of that voice, and instantly his nails dug into the palm of his hands. If she wasn’t a woman, he’d punch her. He pushed Betty behind him. “You’re the, chienne, always calling. Stay the hell away from her.”
Her blue eyes scrunched up. “The who what?” her country accent grated on his nerves, and he hated the woman, hated looking at her, hated having to share a space with her.
“Do not call. Do not talk to her. Do not,” he shoved his face right up to hers, “even look at her. She is mine!”
The woman’s jaw trembled, then a man came and slipped his arm around her shoulders.
“What’s going on?” he growled, then his eyes widened. “Betty?”
“James.” She stepped out from behind Gerard’s back and sneered. “Why don’t you warn your little dog away from me.”
“Aww,” he grinned, and Gerard’s gut clenched as the blood rushed to his head in a red haze, “she don’t mean nuthin’ by it. Do you, G?” He chucked Gretchen’s jaw, and she grinned, popping a piece of gum, seeming more confident now that her man was in the picture.
James looked at Gerard, his upper lip curled. “Who’s this?” he jerked his chin at him.
Gerard closed his eyes, on the verge of pummeling the man. His anger so hot it oozed off him.
“Screw you, James,” Betty grabbed Gerard’s hand. “Let’s go, baby.”
His heart tripped at her endearment. She’d never called him anything other than Gerard, occasionally pig, or bastard. Never baby, never something so obviously loving.
And he might have forgotten James and his slut, if James hadn’t grabbed Betty’s elbow, jerking her to a stop.
“Hey, you can’t even talk to an old friend?” he snapped, and Gerard didn’t think.
He slammed his fist into the bastard’s face. Hot blood oozed from the crunched nose, and James dropped to the ground with a shriek. “He punched me!” he squalled, sounding like a pathetic baby crying for its maman.
A large man walked up to them, his arms crossed over his barrel chest, lips thin as he glared at Gerard.
Betty stood in front of Gerard. “We’re leaving. No worries.” She yanked on Gerard’s hand and walked outside. The moment the cold blast of night hit him in the face, she shoved him against the wall and laughed, a deliriously joyous sound that shivered across his skin.
“His face, did you see it?” Her brown eyes sparkled. She grabbed Gerard’s face and leaned in, planting a soft kiss on his lips. His legs grew weak and he tightened his hold on her waist, wanting to slip inside with his tongue, tasting and nipping at her delicious lower lip. Her breathing was a feather soft kiss on his lips. “I love you, Gerard Caron.”
The moment she said it, the pendant blazed deepest amethyst, there was no red, no gold, it was solid purple. He peppered her brow with kisses, her lips.
“Betty Hart,” he said.
“One month’s up. You are mine, Gerard!” Galeta’s sharp voice exploded around them, then a blue hole tore through the air, and a phantom hand yanked on Gerard’s collar, stealing him back to Kingdom.
“No! Gerard stay!” Betty cried.
He reached for her. “Betty, I lo…” But he never finished the thought, and she never heard what he said, as he was sucked into the vacuum of space.
He rolled head over feet, over and over, at a dizzying, alarming speed. Lights flashed by in a blur, and then his face smacked into something hard and all breath left him on impact. It took a moment for the stars to clear from his vision.
“Stand, Gerard,” Galeta’s gruff voice pierced his throbbing head.
“He cannot stand,” Danika’s gentle words, hovered above his head, “he’s in shock.” A gentle swell of fairy magic netted him in warmth, lifting the fog, the pain, and giving him the strength to stand.
Danika’s smile was crooked and strained, but her eyes glistened with joy, and he knew he’d passed the test. But instead of joy, he felt only pain.
He was in the fairy hall of justice. The checkered tile glistened alternating shades of onyx and mother of pearl. The head fairies sat behind an imposing polished bench of speckled marble, the room glowed a deep hued magenta, radiance that emanated from within the fairies themselves.
Galeta cleared her throat. He looked up and she waved the still glowing pendant. “You have passed,” and the way she said it, she was none too happy about it. “You are free.” The moment the words left her lips, a rush of heat centered on his cock, and like a cork popping free of a bottle, he sprang to life. His cock became thick and painfully hard for his woman, his Betty.
Galeta snarled. “Well go!” She jerked her head. “But know this, Caron, I’m watching.”
He shook his head. “Non. You owe me a gift.”
She curled her lip. “I owe you nothing.”