Chapter 27 - Bee

Spooning is cute, until someone gets a boner

~ Austin Brite

“I can’t believe you can still walk. I should shoot you again,” I said with a frown as I watched Mac drop into the chair in front of me. I hadn’t seen my wing bitch for two weeks and was ready to go beat down her door when Mac had sent out the mental message for coffee.

Even though Mac had walked down the street without the slightest sign of discomfort, she looked a hot mess. Her usually flawless ebony hair was braided into messy plaits on either side of her head, with wisps flying free in the breeze. In place of her usually impeccable brand name wardrobe was a pair of black, stretchy yoga pants and a midriff black top that hung off one shoulder. On her head was the familiar trucker’s cap that read ‘Shhh, this is my hang over hat.’ The most alarming piece of her outfit, though, was the old, tattered flip flops that slapped against the pavement as I watched her walk towards The Split Bean Café.

Mac flipped me off and we placed our order with a waitress. As soon as the mortal being was out of sight, I leaned back in my chair and smiled.

“You look tired.”

“Truck you, you butt hole.”

“Sticks and stones will break my bones . . .”

“You’re lucky I don’t break your bones. My body feels like it’s been through a bullfight with a minotaur, and I lost. I swear my vagina hates me. My thighs are like jelly, and my nipples are chaffed. I’m a freaking immortal who is supposed to heal within minutes!” she whisper hissed the last part.

I grinned. “Awww, come on, Mac, you can’t tell me that almost two weeks locked up in your bedroom with Walker wasn’t the best two weeks of your existence.”

Mac’s cranky facade cracked a little, and a small smile threatened to break free. I knew the bitch had been thoroughly loved on. She didn’t regret a single moment of it, chaffed nipples and all.

“So, I’m assuming Walker survived?”

“Yeah, but I have no idea how his peen didn’t snap off.”

The waitress who had taken that moment to deliver our coffee and breakfast tried to smother her laughter and failed miserably. Mac eyed her like a snake ready to strike as the woman disappeared back into the restaurant.

“Stop eye balling the waitress. She always adds an extra slice of toast to our breakfast,” I chastised my cranky girl.

“Shoot her, shoot her and let her see how it feels to be poked in the poonani until your lady bits feel like a well-used dish rag.”

Not an image I was totally happy to have in my mind, I scrunched up my nose, giving the snoopy women at the table next to us a hard glare. They were totally listening in on our conversation and weren’t even trying to be discreet about it. Rude!

“That paints a really pretty picture, Princess.”

“Eff you,” Mac grumbled, her words lacking their usual heat.

“So, I know you’re dying to ask so I’ll just come out with it. Austin and I have been going at it like nymphomaniacs off our meds, too.”

“Bet your lovebox doesn’t feel like it’s been abused with a battering ram.” Mac pouted.

I had missed my friend, and even if I had to sit through months of her whining about her marathon bout of sex with Walker, I would take it with a smile.

“It certainly feels used, but definitely not abused.”

“You’re glowing red, like the neon sign on The Fuzzy Hole.”

“You’re comparing me to a strip joint your father owns?”

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’ on the end.

“I guess I deserve a little attitude for shooting you.”

Mac arched brow clearly said ‘ya think so?’

I wasn’t the least bit affected by my besties’ snarky attitude. In fact, I felt freaking invincible, and not because I was immortal. I felt buoyant, like my soul wasn’t as weighed down as usual. Heck, I felt euphoric, like not a thing in the universe could upset me and dissuade my happiness. Even though the frail, fine wings on my back couldn’t help me take flight, I felt as if I could jump off a cliff and never hit the ground. I wasn’t falling in love. I was flying in love.

“That smile on your face tells me he went down on you this morning . . . am I right?”

Mac brought me back from the fanciful thoughts of my blossoming relationship to the noisy coffee shop.

“A lady never tells,” I murmured behind my cup of coffee, even though she was one hundred percent correct. Austin liked a little bit of poonani pie for breakfast.

Mac laughed loudly. “I’ve never mistaken you for a lady, and I know that look because I’ve had it on my face all week.” Mac sighed. “I’m pretty sure I will never get tired of waking up to my man’s face between my thighs.”

“I do have to commend Austin’s diddle skills; they are exceptional.”

The women at the table beside us were watching again, a shocked look on the older woman’s face. Clenching my jaw in irritation, I winced through some of the flashback memories that belonged to one of the women. Her memories were. . . disturbing. Mac offered me a knowing smirk, right before she leaned across the gap between our tables.

“I’m not sure why you look so shocked,” she said to the older woman. “You make your man dress up with a horse tail butt plug and ride on his back around your apartment.” 

The alarmed eyes on the woman’s friend were hilarious, and I offered her a sincere nod. “We don’t discriminate here, to each their own.”

Eyes as wide as saucers met Mac’s. The woman opened her mouth to speak, and nothing but spluttered nonsense came out.

“He doesn’t even like it; he’d actually prefer you to give him a blow job in a public place. Try it, I promise your sex life will become far more interesting than the pony club you’ve currently got going on,” she added a wink as she backed away.

The women were quick to pack up and move on, while my fingers lifted to touch the arrow mark behind my ear. I smiled, enjoying the world around me which was once again filled with a vast array of bright colors and auras brimming with life. I could have gone without the lesser power of my memory flashbacks, especially after seeing the woman riding on her husband’s back in revealing lingerie. 

“I do love having my bow back. I feel like a fully charged battery again,” I confessed.

“I loved you having it back right up until you shot me with it.” I raised a brow at Mac’s sullen remark and she threw her hands up in the air. “Oh fine, I loved every minute of it. My man is insatiable, his stamina matches my own, and he’s not even immortal yet. His dong is huge, and I have a well-used and well-loved vagina. Happy?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” I answered.

“What about all this glowing red?” Mac added on, pointing in the general direction of my aura. “You’re not going to freak out and demand I watch all fourteen seasons of the American Dad with you again?”

The last time I’d felt all doom and gloom was following an argument with my father, and I had sulked for a few weeks after, seeking Mac’s company to binge watch American Dad. Did I want to retreat to my opulent apartment in the immortal realm and reacquaint my backside with my leather sectional? Not really. Was I happy I was glowing like a neon stripper sign? Not exactly. I was disappointed to put down my ‘love sucks’ flag so easily, and yet . . . I was happy. The thought of running from Austin hadn’t occurred to me in weeks. At some stage, yes, I would have run, but as I began slipping down the inevitable slope of love, somewhere along the line I began to enjoy it.

“No American Dad,” I confessed. “And the red is growing on me.” I groaned “My father is going string up a banner with ‘I told you so’ in their home. He’ll leave it up for centuries, I just know it.”

“Pride is a bitter pill to swallow, but I think if you begin your apology by telling him of all the ways Austin brings you to orgasm, he and his banner will disappear in a heartbeat.”

Mac laughed at her own genius, and I would have too if I hadn’t been distracted by the hunk of mortal sexiness who strutted down the street with a limping, but smiling, Walker at his side. My eyes would have stayed on that distraction if they weren’t drawn to the giant bunch of balloons he carried, the biggest one saying ‘get well soon.’

“What the . . .”

I stood and walked in a trance like haze towards Austin, Mac hot on my tail.

“Hey, Sugar,” Austin murmured as he stepped into my personal space, wrapped one arm around my waist, and kissed the ever lovin’ daylights out of me. His kisses sucked the intelligence from my brain every time, so I didn’t even occur to me it was an indecent display of public affection.

“Hey, yourself,” I panted when he finally released me.

“Gotcha somethin’,” he said, holding the balloons out.

I took them, my heart tripping over itself as I looked at the brightly colored helium balloons. They were so pretty, one in every color of the rainbow.

“Get well soon?” I asked, confused.

“Well,” Austin said, scratching the facial scruff he hadn’t bothered to shave off this morning. I still had the beard burn on the inside of my thighs to remind me how sexy that scruff could be. “I heard a rumor you’re sick.”

I pointed to myself. “Immortal, don’t get sick, remember?”

Austin smirked. “Love sick, Sugar.”

My confused frown melted into a stunning smile, and for a moment I panicked I might cry. It was safe to say nobody had ever bought me balloons.

“Didn’t want to get your flowers, they die, and someone once told me that could be perceived as a reflection of that relationship. The balloons might lose their air, but they aren’t going anywhere, baby.”

I blinked hard and delicately rubbed at one eye.

“Are you crying?” Mac asked in disbelief.

I glared at her, my tears drying up quickly.

“No, I just had something in my eye.”

“Excuse me?” came an unfamiliar voice from beside our giant balloon moment.

A middle aged woman dressed in an old-fashioned, floral dress that fell to her knees approached. Her aura was a soft blue with a little grey, indicating a tired, and perhaps slightly jaded, person. Given that she was in her fifties, unmarried, and worked a sixty hour week, it didn’t surprise me.

“The balloons are beautiful,” she said, admiring the bunch. I smiled and was about to open my mouth and agree when the woman continued speaking. “But in future could I perhaps suggest maybe a gesture of flowers, or something more sensitive to our environment?”

My smile disappeared, and Mac began cackling like a hyena.

“Excuse me?” I asked, anger surging like a tsunami. There was no way this woman going to spoil the romantic moment Austin had created. I was an eight- hundred-year-old immortal being who had never experienced the full impact of receiving a bunch of balloons. Like hell some wannabe environmentalist was going to steal my thunder.

“Well, balloons create a hazard for the environment. Many balloons make their way to the ocean and open fields and forests, and end up in the stomachs of animals. Flowers would be a much more significant gesture because they can compost,” she calmly explained with a smug smile in place.

I just stared at the woman, disbelief making me dumbstruck, while Walker and Mac continued to snicker behind my back.

“We thank you for your concern,” Austin began, diplomacy obvious in his tone of voice.

“Oh, hell no we don’t,” I snapped, finally coming out of my cloud of disbelief. Austin tried to hide a smile behind his hand, unsuccessfully I might add. “My man bought me a gift, balloons. Nobody has ever bought me balloons. This is a first for me, do you understand the significance of that?” The woman’s smile faltered and she shook her head.  “A woman like me doesn’t get many firsts anymore. This is a moment stitched into the very fabric of time that I will remember forever! And you’re ruining it!”

I wanted to rage, burn, fight, punch, but because I had every intention of proving I could adult with the best of them, I simply stomped my foot. Mac laughed even louder.

“Sugar Bee,” Austin began.

“Don’t you sugar Bee me,” I growled, pointing a finger at him. “There is no way I am letting some goat or turtle eat my damn balloons. When they deflate, I will put them in my trinket box and treasure them forever. The only down side to that memory will be you getting all preachy about balloon pollution.”

My pointed finger was now aimed at the middle-aged environmentalist. The woman stood a little taller and pressed her shoulders back, indignation replacing her triumphant smile.

“I’ll have you know balloons can take a year to break down and can have an incredible impact on the wildlife—”

I was going to blow. My anger button hadn’t been pushed; it had been damn near annihilated. The only thing keeping me in check was Austin, his calming presence a steady balm trying to battle against my quick temper.

“Okay, you need to stop right there,” Mac demanded from behind me, her voice quiet and controlled. When the woman tried to keep talking, Mac silenced her, immortal style. The balloon Nazi’s mouth opened and closed as she continued to talk, but no sound came out.

“Damn,” Walker murmured. “Can I do that? That’s fucking cool.”

Mac took a few steps forward to stand at my side, her head tilting as she observed the woman like one might an insect. Balloon Nazi realized something was seriously wrong with her mouth, and her eyes bugged with panic.

“You should know, Carol, that mascara you are wearing is a product that is tested on animals in China, so is the lipstick. While that Burberry bag is animal free, the company itself is well-known for testing its products on animals. And eight years ago, when you were traveling through Japan, you stuffed your face with bluefin tuna, one of the most endangered animals in the ocean. Guess that makes you a person I like to call a hypocrite! So you can take your balloon righteous behind back to whatever protest van you got out of, and bite me . . . and my girl Bee here!”

The woman took a few flabbergasted steps away before turning to flee, and Mac took one long, deep breath to help calm her own fury.

“Thank you,” I pushed out through my downturned lips.

Mac raised her fist and I bumped mine against it as we watched the woman scurry away.

“I always got your back, girlfriend.”

“Sugar, thought you were going to rumble there for a minute,” Austin whispered in my ear.

“Oh, she thought about it,” Mac confessed, knowing me better than most. “But apparently she’s been tamed.”

“Not likely,” I growled.

Austin wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his front to my back.

“Tamed? Not a chance, my girl is as wild as the wind.”

I didn’t know what I liked more, the fact he referred to me as ‘his girl’ or admitted I was wild as the wind with pride lacing the beautiful words. I glanced up at my balloons and smiled, my anger dissipating fast with Austin touching me, his breath tickling my neck and his facial scruff itching my skin. He was like my own personal drug that drew away anger and irritation, leaving me feeling light and fluffy like a damn Disney princess or something. When Austin whispered in my ear all the naughty things he intended to do with me tonight, any resemblance to a Disney princess flew straight out the window, leaving a lusty, winged, cupid in its place.