With This Ring: Imp Series, Book 11 Read online

  Gabriel nodded, then turned to Ahia. “And the werewolves?”

  “Although werewolves make up our majority, it’s been decided that going forth we are to be called shifters. The new term is inclusive toward those of us whose animal forms are not wolves, as well as the Nephilim who have the ability to take multiple forms and have added abilities.”

  Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Noted. Anything else to report concerning the shifters?”

  “We’re meeting with federal, state, and local governments ourselves to propose anti-discrimination laws and other protections. We’re pushing back against special identification as many of our kind are not public about the fact that they aren’t human. There are fears of targeted violence, as well as both social and economic discrimination.”

  I yawned, wondering if the bigfoot discussion was still going on.

  “Let us know if you need us to help in any way,” Gregory told her.

  I must have dozed off at the point, because before I knew it, Nyalla was shaking my shoulder. The room was empty. I wiped some drool off my chin and blinked up at her.

  “Give me a lift?” she asked.

  “Sure.” I wondered why Gabe hadn’t teleported her back home.

  “I called Amber and told her we were done with the meeting. She’s going to meet us at your house.”

  I stretched, not sure why Amber was coming to our house. She did stop by every now and then, especially when she was up visiting Wyatt, but this sounded ominously like there was a specific purpose for her being there.

  “Is she staying for dinner?” That was the big question on my mind.

  “We might be eating out,” Nyalla commented mysteriously. “Now come on and hurry up. The shop closes at five and we need to get going.

  Chapter 2

  “Please?”

  Amber’s words coiled around me like a warm scented spring breeze. She was good—not as good as her sire Leethu, but still good.

  “What do I get out of this?” I grumbled. I had enough shit to do. It was bad enough that I was required to actually sit in a fucking church and attend this bullshit wedding. At least in the pews I could drink booze and torment whoever had the misfortune of sitting next to me. It still wouldn’t be fun, but standing up front with Amber and her friends would be even less fun.

  “I’ll owe you a favor,” she coaxed.

  I was owed so many favors by this point I’d lost track of them all. I needed an Excel spreadsheet. And an assistant to keep it up to date.

  “And?” I should just say “no”, but I knew how this was all going to end and it was with me in some hideous fucking dress holding a bunch of flowers. Nyalla was standing next to Amber, staring at me with big reproachful eyes. I could never let my girl down. Her disappointment and disapproval was like a knife slicing through my spirit-self. She wanted me to be in this damned ceremony, so regardless of my protests and negotiations, that’s what was going to happen.

  Then there was Lux, beside me and holding my fingers in his chubby little hand. Amber had gone over my head to Gregory and our little angel was now the ringbearer—whatever the fuck that meant. Lux was inordinately excited about his role in this wedding. For days he’d been babbling about keeping rings safe and worrying about whether the ceremonial outfit would allow for him to have his wings displayed.

  The kid had become obsessed with his wings. They were always revealed, and he’d taken to flapping them, shaking them, and other displays to draw attention to their creamy, iridescent beauty. They were pretty. I’ll admit if I had wings like that I’d be shaking them in everyone’s face too.

  Wings weren’t the only thing Lux liked to display. He liked being naked. And he’d become as enamored of the dangly bits between his legs as his wings. Gregory had tried to convince him that Angels of Order did not need to manifest sexual organs, but to my delight, Lux disagreed.

  He was totally my kid, Order or not.

  “A favor, and a standing invitation to stay with Irix and me in New Orleans any time you wish.”

  Whoa, she was desperate.

  “It’ll be fun, Sam,” Nyalla told me. “We’re going to have a bachelorette party, and we’ve got the bride’s breakfast before the ceremony. We’ll get our nails and hair done, and drink mimosas, then the limo will pick us up and take us to the church.”

  If this bachelorette party was anything like that horrible bridal shower, then I was going to be otherwise occupied. There was no way I was going to sit through hours of tiny sandwiches and non-alcoholic punch, watching Amber open gifts while her friends squealed in delight. No fucking way.

  Lux tugged on my hand and a blur of angel-speech shot through my head. I didn’t catch most of it, but I did get the part where he thought I’d be beautiful in a bridesmaid dress, and that he wanted me to be there with him when he performed his ringbearer duties.

  I couldn’t say no to Nyalla, and I definitely couldn’t say no to Lux.

  “All right. But the dress better not be ugly.”

  * * *

  The dress was ugly. I had tugged and pulled on the puce satin fabric, but no matter what I did, I was still wearing a puffy, off-shoulder, asymmetrical hemmed monstrosity. I was so going to get drunk before the ceremony. Actually, I might be drunk off my ass from now up until the happy couple were on their honeymoon and I got to burn the expensive frock I was being forced to spend hundreds of dollars on.

  And don’t get me started on the matching shoes either.

  Nyalla and Amber chatted excitedly while I stood on a narrow platform and had some woman stick pins in me for whatever alterations she was planning on doing. It wouldn’t matter. There was no seamstress in the world that would make this dress remotely attractive.

  We weren’t done. After the fitting, we met with someone to discuss hairstyles, and what could be done with my straight, dark hair.

  “You’re not going to make me dye it, are you?” Amber and Nyalla were blondes and I wasn’t sure about Amber’s other bridesmaids. I could change my hair color myself, but I was oddly opposed to doing so. The soul I’d owned had been a brunette as a human. Yeah, I’d been blonde before and hadn’t had any issue changing my shape, size, gender, or even species, but suddenly I felt like digging in my heels on this.

  Black wings. Brown hair. I wasn’t changing it. And I wasn’t wearing a wig either. The fucking puce dress and shoes were enough of an embarrassment.

  “Of course not.” Amber smiled. “But those of us with long hair are planning on an updo. You can wear yours down if you want.”

  Huh. I did like mani-pedis. And although I occasionally put my hair up into a ponytail or a messy bun, the idea of a complex updo was intriguing. It reminded me of the hairstyles the elves always had.

  “And here’s our polish.” Nyalla held out a bottle that matched the hideous dress and shoes.

  Purple was so not my shade, but it was clear my opinion didn’t have any weight here. I fidgeted while Nyalla and Amber finished talking to the stylist, relieved when we finally seemed to be leaving. For some reason Nyalla and I had needed to take a separate car. I found out why once we got to the parking lot.

  “We’ve got one more stop before heading home,” Nyalla told me once we waved goodbye to Amber.

  A half hour later we were parking in front of a coffee shop. A young black woman waved at us from a table.

  “Darcie, this is Sam,” Nyalla introduced me. “Darcie is Amber’s best friend from college and her Maid of Honor. She lives in New Orleans, but flew up to help Amber with wedding planning.”

  “And while Amber is off meeting Irix about the band for the reception, we’re going to talk about the bachelorette party,” Darcie added.

  Both she and Nyalla squealed, while I wondered if this place had booze to go in the coffee. This wedding stuff was boring as shit. I was beginning to regret agreeing to even attend, let alone be in the damned thing.

  I strolled up to get two extra-large mochas for me and Nyalla. When I returned, I caught the tail end
of a conversation. Something to do with a penis cake.

  Now I was interested. “I’m totally onboard for a penis cake,” I told them. “I can handle that. Just let me know when and where to deliver it.”

  “Perfect.” Darcie went to scribble my name next to the word cake on her list, and Nyalla shot out a hand to stop her.

  “Um, Sam? It’s a cake shaped like a penis, not a cake made with a bunch of dismembered male genitals.”

  Darci looked horrified.

  “Well, fuck that,” I grumbled. “Can I at least stick a real penis on top of it? For authenticity?

  “No,” both girls said in unison.

  “Maybe I’ll assign the cake to Harper,” Darcie mused.

  I handed Nyalla her drink and sat down. “So what is this bachelorette party really about?” I asked, worried that in spite of the penis cake, it would be just like the horrible bridal shower.

  “It’s a blast,” Darcie told me. “The girls in the wedding party and some of Amber’s friends have this big party. We all get drunk, give her inappropriate gifts, and watch a stripper. Sometimes it’s at one place. Sometimes we get a limo and drive around to a bunch of bars. It’s going to be all about dicks and vajayjays!”

  This sounded a hell of a lot more fun than a bunch of us sitting around eating tiny sandwiches and drinking punch while Amber opened gift bags containing blenders, towels, and spatulas. I loved getting drunk. I loved dicks and vajayjays. I loved inappropriate gifts. Wait…

  “A stripper?” Now it was me who was squealing like a teenager.

  “He has to be super hot,” Darcie said. “What are the laws in Maryland concerning dancers? ’Cause I know someplaces they’ve got to keep the banana hammock on, and others they can let it all fly free.”

  I was beginning to really like this Darcie woman, even if she wasn’t thrilled about a cake made out of actual penises.

  I sipped my mocha and thought of any hot dudes I knew. Irix was smoking, but Amber had seen him naked a gazillion times already. Not Wyatt, because I knew Amber wouldn’t dig having her brother as a stripper, and neither would Nyalla. Plus, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t do it. Gregory would refuse, and half the time he didn’t manifest sexual organs anyway. A stripper with an empty banana hammock wouldn’t be any fun at all. Nobody wanted to see Gabriel naked except Nyalla. Rafi would be awesome, but I was pretty sure Ahia was going to be at this party and she wouldn’t want her angel grinding on Amber. Uri? Leethu was open about that sort of thing, but I wasn’t sure if Uriel would be. Besides, some of the female attendees might not get their rocks off on seeing another woman dance naked and at this time Uri was strictly female in her corporeal form.

  “How about more than one stripper?” I asked. Although I was having a hard enough time thinking of even one dude who would fit the bill.

  “You’re in charge of strippers,” Darcie told me. “At least one, but a few more would be awesome. Make sure they’re gorgeous, and if the cops raid us, that they’ll deny everything. Actually, I’ll put you in charge of the venue and the logistics and party favors, since you’re here and I’m in New Orleans. It’ll be easier that way.”

  “Party Favors?” I asked.

  Darcie grinned. “Fun themed stuff that each attendee can have. Sex toy stuff that you can buy in bulk.”

  Holy shit, this was going to be the most epic party ever. I couldn’t wait. “Strippers. Venue. Food and drink, and party favors. Got it.”

  “We need a bunch of water guns filled with booze.” Darcie tapped her lip with her pen. “I’m not much for straight alcohol, so maybe some sort of shooter?”

  “I’ll take care of that,” Nyalla said. “I’ll get some girls together and we’ll spend an evening mixing drinks and filling squirt guns. It’ll be fun.”

  “Penis squirt guns,” I chimed in.

  The girls squealed in excitement. What fun! I was completely revising my thoughts on this whole wedding thing.

  “Good.” Darcie made a note on her paper. “Sam will handle the location and the food, the strippers and the favors. Hunter will do the cake. Carla is going to do decorations. Heather is in charge of making bracelets for all of us so the bartenders know who is on the tab for our party. Sam will get the squirt guns and fill them with Nyalla and a few volunteers. I’ll send out an email to everyone that the gift theme is sex toys—the weirder and kinkier the better. Let’s make this wild and funny, girls.”

  Wild and funny. I grinned. Screw the actual wedding, this bachelorette thing was going to be the event of a lifetime.

  Chapter 3

  I dropped Nyalla off at Wyatt’s and returned home to find a dead animal on my front porch. I’d been living among the humans long enough to know that the odds of something crawling up onto my porch and dying were reasonably slim. Besides, this thing looked like it had been dead a long time. Actually it looked like someone had dug it up out of the ground and left it like an offering on my doorstep.

  “Boomer!” There was one being in my household that particularly liked dead stuff. My half-demon hellhound was a notorious grave robber, but he did occasionally snack on roadkill. He’d never offered to share before. I wasn’t sure why he’d want to this time.

  And what was this thing? Rat? Possum? It was so decayed and dirt-encrusted that I couldn’t figure out what it had once been.

  “Boomer! Get over here!”

  The hound came loping around the side of the house. He came to an abrupt stop once he saw what I was pointing at, looking up at me with a surprised expression.

  “Is this yours?” I demanded.

  He shook his head. Walking up, he gave the animal a tentative sniff, then quickly backed up sneezing.

  “Who put this on my porch, then?” I asked. “One of the Lows?”

  Boomer did the doggy equivalent of a shrug. My Lows did have some odd hobbies, and food preferences. Maybe this was someone’s idea of a gift? I wasn’t going to wear it, and I certainly wasn’t going to eat it.

  “Can you get rid of it?”

  Boomer shook his head, ears flapping with the motion.

  I glared at him. “That wasn’t supposed to be a question. Take this thing somewhere and bury it. Or ditch it on the side of the road. I don’t want it on my porch.”

  Just then the dead thing moved. Boomer let out an unearthly howl and took off for the backyard, leaving me staring in astonishment at the twitching…rat? Yes, I think it had once been a really big rat.

  Bending over, I tried to see if the thing was still alive. I didn’t want to get too close, but I couldn’t tell if the twitching was from insects that were feeding under the skin, or if it really wasn’t dead. It certainly looked and smelled dead.

  It twitched again. I jumped back, eyeing it. Yes, the abdomen had moved, but so had the front legs. Scooting closer, I stuck out my foot and nudged the rat. It twitched again.

  Didn’t matter if it was dead or alive, I needed to get this thing off my front porch. Unfortunately I didn’t seem to have a shovel or a broom to move it with. I wasn’t about to pick it up, so instead I stepped over it and went on inside. Hopefully it would wander off on its own. If not, I’d go out to the barn later, get a shovel, and toss it into the woods on the other side of my driveway.

  “I’m back,” I shouted to Lux as I threw my purse on the table.

  I swear, having the responsibility of a baby angel had turned me into a total bore. No wonder demons in Hel dumped their offspring into the hands of dwarven foster homes the moment they were formed because parenting wasn’t a demon thing. Thankfully Lux didn’t require constant diaper changes or midnight feedings like human infants did. Lucky for me, angel babies were perfectly capable of raiding the fridge when they wanted to experience the sensory pleasure of eating food or drinking, and they didn’t poop or pee.

  Well, except for my kid who’d gone through a phase a few months back. Fortunately his fascination with human intestinal functions was short lived.

  Lux said something in a rapid burst of angel-spee
ch that I could never manage to keep up with. Something about working and responsibility and sacred duty. Fuck, had Gabriel been talking to him again? Damn it all, I hated that shithead. Last time he and Nyalla took Lux for a weekend, the kid tried to sneak kale into my coffee.

  Let me tell you, kale flavored coffee is not pleasant.

  “Sounds good.” I went into the kitchen to get a beer, then headed into my living room to see what Lux’s idea of sacred responsibility was. The baby angel was sitting on the floor surrounded by a pile of jewelry.

  “Did you rob Tiffany’s or something?” I asked, twisting the cap off my beer. “Anything cool in there for me?”

  “Rings,” he announced solemnly.

  “I see that.” I walked over and sat down beside him, running my fingers through what looked to be hundreds of diamond rings. Holy shit, some of these looked really expensive. I stuck one ring on each of my fingers and held them up, wiggling them at Lux.

  “You’ve got some serious bling here.”

  He laughed and did the same. “Bling!”

  They were pretty. Well, some of them. Although most of the rings were fairly run of the mill diamond solitaires, a few were more ornate, and some were engraved bands. Pulling the rings off my fingers, I inspected them and tossed them back into the pile. I held one up, wondering how many carats the diamond was.

  “So what’s up with all the jewelry? Did you make these?” Seemed kinda ambitious for an infant angel, but maybe not. Maybe these were the angel equivalents of macaroni necklaces. If so, this was a much better gift than the dead, or not dead, rat on my porch.

  “No.” A bunch of angel-speak followed.

  “What sacred responsibility?” I was beginning to have a bad feeling about all this. “The rings are your sacred responsibility? What are you talking about?”

  Lux stood and puffed out his little chest. Rings…something, something, something about taking his duties seriously just like his father had taught him.