Dedicated to The Universe...thanks for not giving me more than I ever expect to get.
Warning:
This novel is BOOK 2 in a series. While the novel does feature a different couple than BOOK 1, it is BETTER enjoyed when read in order.
This is also a paranormal romance that contains fantasy elements, adult themes, excessive graphic/foul language (very excessive), graphic content, violence, and adult situations as well as adult sexual choices that may differ from your own. Some readers may find content triggering or disagree with it entirely. Please proceed at your own risk.
Thank you.
- Xavier
Playlist Selects
Here are songs from the “Getting Gold” playlist!
Feel free to follow the playlist on Spotify to find more songs I felt related to the novel.
1. I Like It, I Love It – Tim McGraw (Country)
2. Come Around Me – Justin Bieber (R&B)
3. I Will Follow You into the Dark – Death Cab for Cutie (Alternative Rock)
4. Ain’t No Mountain High Enough – Marvin Gaye, Tammi Terrell (Soul)
5. V – Jay Park (Rap)
More songs: https://spoti.fi/3GO2Lg5
I wore the wrong shoes for a long-distance foot chase.
Everyone knows you can’t catch shit in Italian dress loafers.
Especially not the ones with the tassels.
Those tassels are for style not for fucking speed.
That’s why they’re typically made by designers like Tom Ford instead of Nike.
Maybe I should put a request in with the former?
I know someone on his team has got to be from the magical realm.
Grunting through the growing agony caused by my toes being repeatedly smashed into the front of my shoe, I continue weaving around the cars of the strip-mall parking lot, doing everything I can to stay on the leather-clad, svelte body that should not be outrunning me right now.
Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have said yes to more helpings of melon madness when Gene, our Genie servant, offered, but oh my Great Ones it was impossible not to. First, what being with tastebuds could ever resist that sort of orgy in their mouth? Canary, casaba, crenshaw…all rolling around in the same bowl, making sweet, stickiness for me to lap up all over again like they were coming from that devilish, little blue pixie – who kept pouring me doubles until she successfully got me between her legs last night – instead of barely sliced fruit. Second, I naturally eat more when I’m stressed, which is the only possibility that ever occurs when Ptur, my oldest brother, tosses around the wrong D word – disappointed – in regard to a project I’ve spent weeks perfecting. As if the ass chewing that I got about the Paris pitch wasn’t enough, he had to kick me in the dick about my winter marketing plans for DL & Co, our family-owned jewelry company, too. It’s probably why I wasn’t in the mood to fuck after that winged babe begged for it. And for Dragons Sake did she fucking beg. Like she was pleading to not be tried for murder in Sleepers’ court.
I was fucking flattered.
I mean, who wouldn’t be?
And then I was fucking pissed.
How dare my dick betray me by not showing a little sympathy?
We’ve fucked worse for less.
I’ve multitasked through better for longer.
And then Gold – my ancient dragon side – got involved in the situation for some rare, unknown, unappreciated reason, snuffing and grunting and doubling down on the do not rise to the occasion, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred orgasms bullshit.
I was basically left with no choice but to have four servings of melon madness at my late lunch today.
It was either that or shift to burn down a patch of the property again.
Zilveren, my younger and newly Fate Mated brother, detoed that idea though. Something about not wanting to scare his mate who’s still fairly new to her Awaker form. It’s not like she’s never seen our ancient dragons or has a fear of fucking fire. He’s just being overly sensitive about her this week.
Maybe because she’s finally enrolled in some medical program – that she’s been going on about for forever – to be a doctor or a nurse or organ digger.
I’m not really great at listening when she rambles. I mean even her thank you speech for the new, silver backpack I gave her for school was mind-numbingly long.
I guess having his mate venturing down a new path in life could be the reason he’s edgy.
Or maybe just being mated makes you a giant pussy.
Soft.
And sometimes pink.
Seriously.
I think he used to be much tanner before The Goddess of Fate shackled him to that bite-sized thing he’s always tripping over his own tail to give pillows to.
Huh.
You know what?
Now that I think about it…I blame him, I blame P, and I blame Gene, all for the fact I’m being outrun by an elf dressed like a fucking Village Person.
I blame everyone but me.
I’m innocent.
Well…as innocent as I’ll ever be, anyway.
My target gracefully – yet unnecessarily if you ask me – slides across the hood of a bright red sports car before full speed darting towards the establishment ahead. I push myself to move faster and ignore the throbbing pain caused by the leather rubbing my feet raw. I command every fiber in my body to disregard the irritations being felt in this less magical form I have to stay in to focus on the catching what has to be the world’s fastest fucking elf of all time.
Legit.
Gonna see if his picture is in the fucking record books after this shit.
While I trail behind his entrance into what appears to be a hair salon, once we’re there, something unknown snaps my ancient dragon side into gear – something it really should’ve done when this damn chase began. All slowed-down strides from being a little overstuffed are swapped for the sprints needed to close the distance between us. Display cases are toppled over upon his passing as an attempt to buy himself some time, but it doesn’t. I hurdle over each one and nimbly spin out of the direction of other product towers that he’s winding around to be additional deterrents.
All of a sudden, he spots a door located at the back of the store and dashes towards it. Him having a straight shot and a slightly better lead gives him the advantage; however, an unexpected woman steps out from the very area he’s racing for and uses the broom in her grip to sweep him off his feet.
Literally.
One swift swipe and the elf who has basically been one bad cardio session for the evening is sprawled flat on his back. The woman wielding the makeshift weapon not only jams the wooden handle into his throat but also stomps her holey, sneaker-covered foot on his crotch so hard that I can’t help but cringe in agony for him. “You’re not robbing this fucking store, thief!”