Wicked (A Wicked Trilogy 1)

"I'm not going to squish your insides, and stop beating my hand with your damn wings. It feels weird." Carrying him around the counter, I headed toward his bedroom as he glared at me. "Stay in there."

His eyes narrowed. "You don't own me."

I rolled my eyes. "Behave, Tink." Opening the door, I tossed him inside. His wings spread and arced as he spun around and gripped the edge of the door. "Tink," I seethed. "Get in there."

"Are you going to have sex with him tonight?" he asked.

"Oh my God, Tink." The knock came for a third time, and I started to pull the door shut.

With surprising strength, he managed to hold the door back and wiggled between it and the frame. I could keep pulling, but then I probably would squish him. "I could go with you."

Losing my patience, I counted to ten. I made it to five. "Tink, you know you can't go with me."

He sighed loudly and dramatically. "You're no fun."

I glared at him until he let go of the door then breathed a sigh of relief. "Please behave. Okay?"

A look of pure innocence radiated from his face. "Don't I always?"

This was not going too well, but I was finally able to close the damn door, and I hurried to the front door, yanking it open, ready to apologize for keeping him for so long.

All the words in the world vanished the moment I got an eyeful of Ren.

Holy hotness with an extra side of sexy, when Ren cleaned up, he took his handsomeness into a totally different stratosphere.

The waves and curls of his hair were currently tamed, styled back from his face, showing off the angle of his cheekbones and the fullness of his lips. He was wearing a white dress shirt that showed off the hard lines of his broad shoulders and flashed a glimpse of tawny skin at his neck. I noticed then, somehow never really seeing it before, a leather cord hanging from his neck and disappearing under his shirt. I was sure that was what carried the clover, but as my gaze traveled over him, I quickly forgot about it. The edges of the tattoo poked out of the collar of his shirt, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, exposing powerful forearms. The dark trousers completed the outfit. It was effortless class.

When I dragged my gaze back to his, I realized I hadn't been the only one doing the scrutinizing. He was staring at me in his intense, consuming way, and I stepped back from the door, suddenly feeling very . . . vulnerable. As if I was exposed in front of him.

Heat crept into my cheeks as I plastered my arms to my sides. "Sorry I . . . took so long. I was . . ." I trailed off as he continued to stare at me. "What?"

Ren stepped into the house, catching the door and closing it behind him. His presence filled the living room, and I could barely drag in enough air. "This is wrong," he said, voice thick.

Surprised by the statement, I glanced down at myself. I knew I looked like a silly girl playing dress up. "It's the only dress I could wear," I said, feeling the weight of embarrassment settling on my shoulders.

He gave a little shake of his head as his bright green eyes met mine. "Oh, sweetness, you did wrong in all the right ways."

I wasn't following.

"How in the world am I going to pay attention when you look like that?" he chided softly, and my eyes widened. He moved forward, so close that I had to tip my chin up to meet his stare. He reached out, fingering the loose sleeve of my dress. "You are utterly distracting."

"I am?"

A half smile appeared as his fingers skipped off the material and traced the line of my shoulder, sending a tight shiver down my spine. Then his finger wrapped around a curl, the back of his hand brushing the swell of my breast. He tugged it straight like he'd done before. "You are absolutely beautiful, Ivy."

Whatever air was left in my lungs escaped in an unsteady rush. He thought I . . . was beautiful? The heat in my cheeks increased. Not since Shaun had a guy said that to me. Well, there were some random homeless dudes that told me I was beautiful, but I really wasn't counting those moments.

Ren dipped his head, his mouth enticingly close to my ear. "Merida has nothing on you, babe."

My lips curved into a grin at the mention of the Disney chick. "Thanks."

He straightened. "It's the God's honest truth."

A loud thump thundered from the back of the house. I cringed as Ren glanced down the hall, his lips turning down at the corners. "What was that?"

A very dead brownie if he didn't knock it off. "I . . . I have a cat. It probably knocked something over."

Ren lifted a brow. "You have a cat?"

"Yeah, a really annoying cat. It's old. Gonna die soon," I said, speaking louder. "I've been thinking about getting it euthanized, you know, to put it out of its misery." The thumping noise came again, and my lips pursed as I inhaled deeply through my nose.

"Well, uh . . . sorry to hear that," Ren said. "What's his name?"

"Tink," I blurted out.

"That's different. Does it stand for anything?"

"Nothing at all. We should be going," I added quickly. "Just let me grab my purse."

Of course, Ren followed me into the kitchen, and I could only pray that Tink stopped doing whatever the hell he was doing in his room. An image of him tossing troll dolls against the wall filled my mind, and I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop the laugh that was building.

"Have a problem with the sugar?" he asked, grinning at the counter.

My gaze fell to the two piles of sugar as I grabbed the black, beaded clutch I'd picked up from a shop in the Quarter and slipped the strap around my wrist. "I'm . . . messy."

He gave a little shake of his head as his lashes lifted. "Doesn't look like that in the rest of the apartment."

I forced a causal shrug. "I'm ready."

Luckily, Ren dropped it and followed me outside. Surprise flitted through me when we stepped out of the courtyard and I saw an older black truck parked along the curb. "Yours?"

"Yep." He stepped around me and opened up the passenger door. "It's been my baby since I was sixteen. It's what got me and the bike to New Orleans."

Biting my lip, I climbed in and smoothed the skirt of my dress. For some reason, a truck fit him. I don't know why I expected him to drive something fancy and fast, but it really did match his personality.

"Question?" he said, tone light. He leaned into the cab of the truck, one arm draped over the door. "You are carrying, right?"

"Yes. Of course."

He grinned as he peered through his thick lashes. "Where in the world are you hiding a weapon, Ivy? I'm dying to know."

I laughed softly and reached for the edge of my skirt. Hesitating for a second, I curled my fingers around the hem and slid it up, giving him a peek of the stake secured to my thigh.

"Damn, girl." He straightened, gripping the door. "That right there is what fantasies are made of."

Blood poured into my cheeks, and I was grateful it was dark out. Muttering a curse under his breath, he closed the door

and jogged around the front of the truck. Once inside, he cranked the engine and soft music hummed out of the speakers. As he pulled away from the curb, I realized he was listening to an old Hank Williams' song.

I turned to him slowly.

He smiled crookedly. "Don't knock the music, sweetness. We're off to such a great start tonight. I'd hate to have to kick you out of the truck."

I snorted but didn't say anything as we made the trip into the business district. Since it was Saturday night, the streets were