“Let me guess, you were living in New Orleans.” Halen laughs.
“I was. Good times there, brother. Good fucking times. I am planning on taking Del when things settle.”
The thought of traveling with Delaney makes something in my chest swell with the need to show her what the world is like outside of Salem, hell, Massachusetts.
“This is the place.” Looking up, I take in the two large brightly lit storefront windows. Both showcase artwork that looks like scrap metal that fell out of a recycling factory.
“There.” I nod to where I can see the little pixie standing, talking to two men in suits.
“Okay, try not to break anything.” Camo chuckles.
“I did that one time, fucker,” I scoff.
“Yet you cost the club over a quarter of a mil.”
“I was good for it.” I push through the door, allowing Camo to walk in before me.
People turn to watch us walk in, as we stick out like sore thumbs. They are dressed in suits and flashy dresses, and we are in dirty denim, boots, and leather.
“Can I help you gentlemen? I think you may be in the wrong place,” a twinkling male voice says from my left.
Tuning to look, I see a male pixie wrinkling his nose at us, and I growl. He flinches, taking a step back.
“We have come to see her.” Camo points to who we need to see. The firecracker of a pixie rolls her eyes and walks toward us.
She carries herself with confidence and if I was not now hooked on my woman, I would give her a try; I have not fucked a pixie before. Short white hair, bright violet eyes, she is dressed in a green dress that glides behind her like she is walking on air.
“What can I do for you?” she asks, her gaze flickering over the three of us.
“You know who we are?” Camo asks, and she nods. “Then you know we come wanting something from you. Looking around, I can tell that you do not want anything that would disrupt what you have going on here.”
“What is it that you need from me?” She leans in, reading his patch. “Camo.”
“Can we talk somewhere private?” he says to her.
“Follow me.”
“Petra, you cannot be alone with the-these thugs,” the puny man whines, trying to stop her.
“I will be fine, Percy. Please take care of my other clients.” She looks back to us. “Follow me, gentlemen.”
“Fucking hell, never been called a gentleman before.” Camo chuckles.
We enter what looks like her office, and she sits behind a large glass desk and waves her hand to the two chairs.
Camo sits, but both Halen and I stand behind him, ready for anything that might happen. Pixies are usually tame and serene creatures, but once pushed, they become evil little fuckers.
“We need some of your hair and dust.” Camo gets right to it.
His request doesn’t spark any reaction from her. Her gaze moves over all three of us and I have to say, it is a little unnerving. She lingers on me the longest, and the brightness of her eyes dims, like she is seeing into my soul and only finding darkness.
“Can I ask why you need this from me?”
Camo nods. “We were informed that your genetics, your DNA, carries a potent strand that could potentially help a sick child.”
“It does. Before I do this, I would like more information on the child.” She looks VP square in the eyes. “You see, your request is not the first, and my compliance is often abused.”
I growl. I fucking hate supernaturals being used and abused for their powers. Petra looks at me, arching her brow as she rests her locked hands together on the desk.
