Page 16 of Wishing Upon a Monster (Monster Brides Romance #40)

Aurora

T he weekend was calm compared to our visit to the ECCM.

Olan researched and asked me questions. I showed him how to work my oven and other kitchen appliances, though he didn’t like the microwave and wouldn’t tell me why.

He used the new well to bring things for his room.

I asked if he needed help, and he smirked at me and conjured the biggest ass bed I had ever seen and said I was welcome to help him in bed anytime. With that smirk.

Males! Cue eye roll.

He had asked my permission before enchanting the guest room—his room—with a spell that would enlarge it without structurally messing with my cottage.

I’d reminded him that, since that was the case, he hadn’t really needed to ask.

He’d just hummed and kissed me on the head and vanished like a magician in a puff of black sparkly smoke, taking the bed with him.

I wish I could fucking teleport.

So the weekend was good, but today was still Monday. I was grumpy, on my period, and I had to do a shift with the nonmagical humans .

If you could pass for a human, it was required a few times a month, for enforcers to serve a day shift giving tours and manning the front desk of the section of the preserve we used as a cover.

Nonmagical humans believed the Eastwood River Preserve was protected land that the local university used a small portion of to study wildlife.

Ten acres of the land were reserved for that purpose.

It was part of the deal Palmer’s family had made with the nonmagical human government to maintain control over the land housing all the ‘undesirable supernaturals’ in the eastern part of the state of South Carolina.

I understood why we did it; it helped us keep an eye on things and created a barrier between the preserve proper and the outside world.

There have been quite a few instances where supernatural beings have declined to stay within the other one hundred and fifty-six acres.

I’ve been told humans are delicious. It’s my job to make sure that if a supernatural entity goes wandering and gets a craving, they get a terrible case of indigestion for their trouble.

I finished lacing up my hiking boots, stood up, and checked out my uniform in the mirror.

Instead of my forest camo, I was wearing a gray polo with the Eastwood River Preserve logo, three embordered trees with a pale blue squiggle below them, khaki cargo pants, and my boots.

I couldn’t go all out with my accessories like I’d like, so the small wolf heads howling at my earlobes from my hook earrings would have to do.

I clomped down the stairs from my attic room, passing the office and Olan’s room on my way to the kitchen. I could smell something wonderful, and I hoped I wasn’t hallucinating that Olan had made breakfast. I also hoped he was willing to share.

Sashimi greeted me just before the kitchen with a cute little meow and a quick twirl around my ankles, “Is Olan not giving you enough treats, my little floof?”

“I am giving her a reasonable amount, min skat, but I do not wish for her to get sick,” he said seriously from the kitchen.

Leaving my beautifully spoiled princess at the door, I stepped into the kitchen, giving an appreciative groan to the smells of bacon, eggs, and biscuits.

“I will cook for you every day if you promise to make that sound,” he teased, sliding fluffy eggs onto one of two plates.

“If it tastes as good as it smells, I can promise you I will. There is no shame in appreciating food or the person who made it,” I said, crossing the kitchen to sit at the bar. “Thank you for cooking.”

“You are welcome, min s?de skat ,” he said, adding four strips of bacon and a biscuit to a plate and walking it over to me.

He placed the plate in front of me next to the silverware already laid out with a napkin, by a cup of orange juice. “Thank you,” I said, reaching for the fork.

Olan pulled back and bent down, kissing me on my head like it was the most natural response to being thanked. My blood rushed to my cheeks, and I fought to focus on my bacon and not the muscled planes of his back as he walked back to the stove to serve himself.

Not that I was objectifying him. Though, who can you think naughty thoughts about pretty muscles about if not your own husband?

I shook my head. It hadn’t even been a full week since he literally appeared in my life. They were researching how to break this contract of ours. He was just kind. Thoughtful. Willing to murder on my behalf... I felt my pulse quicken. Why is that so hot?

Food. I need food, my blood sugar is low, and it’s making me irrational and a bit homicidal. Or maybe that was my period .

I ate my eggs; they tasted as good as they smelled. “How did you make these so yummy?”

“Irish butter and fresh eggs. I discovered that there is still a supernatural market in Doolin, though it is not nightly any longer; it’s on Saturday evenings after midnight. I was lucky,” he said before he took a bite of his bacon.

I looked at Olan in shock. “Is Doolin like... in Ireland?”

“Yes, I would not think this would be a surprise. Did we not travel to the ECCM in North Carolina?” He took a bite of his eggs.

It was kind of cute seeing his monstrously large hands holding one of my forks. It was like he couldn’t find any adult silverware, so he had to use the kids’ settings.

“It’s just, for some reason, I assumed it was exclusive to the continental US,” I said, shaking my head. “Sorry about putting limitations on you.”

Olan’s eyes twinkled with good humor. “You really shouldn’t limit your deities, min skat. When you do, it keeps you from being able to ask us for what you really need.”

I made a noise in my throat and ate more of my breakfast. I suppose he was right. If you didn’t think it could be granted, why would you even try to ask?

“So, you can go anywhere on Earth?” I took a sip of my juice.

“I can travel anywhere on Earth and throughout many universes,” His voice light. “I told you, my kind visits many cultures.”

“You did, and about existing as consciousness in the Void. I was listening,” I teased, “But there aren’t wells in space.”

Olan raised a nonexistent brow at me. “ Min skat , what are blackholes but galactic wells?”

And then my brain exploded a little bit. Not enough to stop me from eating, but enough to stop my talking until I had cleaned my plate.

“I could, if you were interested, take you somewhere––”

“On Earth,” I interrupted, not even remotely interested in space travel.

He chuckled, “On Earth, if you’d like. After I take you in this morning, we could go out to dinner.”

I stood up, gathering my used dishware. “Like a date?” I asked, my stomach flipping at the idea.

“Not like, min s?de skat .” He collected his dishes, meeting me at the sink.

“I respect that you and your coworkers are going to try to find a way to cancel the life debt,” he carefully placed his dishes in the sink, “but in turn, I should get the chance to change your mind about wanting to break it, Mmm?”

I slid my dishes into the sink after him, turning to... well, not object, exactly, but this fluttery feeling in my stomach felt so out of place, and I wasn’t sure––

Olan reached out a hand and ran a thumb along my jaw, his fingers delving into my hair and pulling me closer.

All the thoughts in my head were silenced.

The flutters in my stomach transformed into a flock of excited pixies, my breath catching as he kissed me on the corner of my mouth.

“Shall I come with you to work? I need to go over the paperwork relating to the treaty. I would also like to place a well on the property if they are amenable to the idea.” He turned back to the dishes, rinsing them.

My brain kickstarted again. “Uh, yeah, sure. I actually need to talk to my supervisor before my shift.”

“Nash!” I called after leaving Olan in the conference room with Palmer and members of the Nyxian Council. He was willing to talk about signing the treaty, but not willing to travel to Club Nyx to meet with the bigwigs.

I guess he’d had enough traveling after the Raleigh trip.

Feeling a bit of misplaced guilt about that, I chased down my day shift supervisor, who had a cup of his usual herbal tea in hand.

He took a sip and surveyed me over the top of his mug. “You look rested and in one piece.”

I stopped in front of him, hands on my hips, cocking my head to the side and raising a brow at him, “Really, Nash? Did you think he’d eat me?”

“Absolutely not, as your boss, I want you to know that I officially think you kick ass,” he said, taking another sip.

“Unofficially?” I dropped my hands from my hips and stepped forward.

“Unofficially, I had hoped you would have to take another week off because you had called me to help you hide a body,” he said, his eyes twinkling at me over the rim of his mug.

I sighed, “Homicidal fae.”

“Still think it’s the best option, but I respect your decision to be regretfully pacifistic,” he replied, bringing his mug down in front of him.

“Could we talk privately?” I asked seriously.

“Sure, let’s just pop into my office,” he agreed, taking me down to the office he shared with Irene, the night shift supervisor .

The office was split down the middle. On the eastern side, Nash had his cluttered desk, with enough plants to give him the unofficial title of Plant Zaddy.

He said all the flora and fauna made him think of home.

In front of his desk, he had some pretty comfy chairs for staff to sit in, carved from what looked like one piece of wood.

On the western side, Irene kept everything pristine.

She had her pens lined up along the blotter, her mug clean and waiting on a coaster, and her laptop closed and centered on the blotter, which was centered on the desk.

Everything on her side was modern and sleek, with not a speck of dust anywhere.

Her desk also had chairs in front for staff, but they looked uncomfortable, dull gray plastic with metal legs.

These shift supervisors were made for each other; they just didn’t know it yet.

Nash collapsed in his chair, brushing some balled up papers into the trashcan next to his desk before putting his mug on top. “What’s up?”

“I want to transfer to night shift,” I said, not wanting to draw things out more than necessary.

Nash leaned back in his seat, lacing his fingers together and resting them on his stomach. “I can think of one excellent reason that makes sense, except you’re five years late.”

I sighed. Dropping into one of his chairs, I shifted, getting comfortable. Sometimes Nash couldn’t leave well enough alone. “He overstepped. We had made an agreement to be professional––”

“Which, as your boss, I appreciate,” He interrupted, “But since you are leaving me for her ,” he scowled at Irene’s desk, “I thought that was pretty fucking stupid of you both to have a relationship and work together. But you, and I mean you , specifically, made it work. I get why you wouldn’t sleep with me––”

I rolled my eyes. Fae didn’t care if they were your boss. They liked to fuck, and fuck often, and that truly was all that it was most of the time. I knew that he could have separated the act from work, but I also knew I couldn’t, which is what got me into trouble with Kenny, in the end.

“–– but I had wished you would have extended the same rejection to him. Relationships with coworkers can get messy,” he finished.

“But fucking them is fine?” I gave him a look.

“Absolutely, it's great to let off steam post-battle. Just don't get your heart involved, and it’s like therapy!” He grinned enthusiastically.

I laughed. Nash sounded like a fuckboy, but... No, no but, he was one. However, once they met that one, their mate... everything changed. I had hope for Nash’s character development, but I wasn’t up for that story arc, and I never would be.

“Kenny was a mistake,” I allowed, “and I shouldn’t have gotten mixed up with him. I’m rectifying that mistake now.”

“I could fire him,” he offered. “He does good work, but he's a pain in my ass.”

“I appreciate the solidarity, but you know you can’t unless you have a good reason,” I cautioned.

“You’re an excellent enforcer, and I’d fight to keep you, but you’re right, I can’t. He’s got to leave on his own or fuck up bad enough to be fired.” He steepled his fingers together, bringing them to his lips. “ Has he fucked up enough to be fired?”

“He put his hands on me outside of training on Thursday,” I raised a hand at his disgruntled growl.

“I get it, no one puts their hands on your team, especially not members of your team, and I didn’t tell you because I wanted to make sure I was clear-headed before I let you know.

I don’t want our history to cloud my judgment, but if you pull up the cameras from the hallway outside of the locker rooms, you should be able to see it. He just grabbed me, but––”

“That’s a write-up,” Nash said, turning to his ancient desktop nestled inside a wall of plants.

He went through the recordings and watched our exchange. “I don’t care that he ‘just grabbed’ you. That’s not okay. I honestly think he and his family cause us more problems than good, but the big boss approved him for optics. Your family is more respected; I think that’s better optics.”

“We both know it's my family that looks good to the magical world, not me.” I gesture to the screen. “And we both know that’s, at most, worth mandatory sexual harassment training and a strike against him in his file. He’d have to fuck up two more times before you could let him go.”

“Are you trying to protect him because you still care about him?” Nash asked.

“Honestly... I am tired of making things work around him. I’ve done everything I can to move forward, and I think I've done a great job.

He's just proven that he is not able to operate in a professional setting. I cannot trust him to have my back when we are out in the preserve. I want a transfer,” I said firmly.

“I’ll need to talk to Irene,” he groaned, “and if approved, you will need to pick up the human shifts for Cece, Seline, and me while I rearrange the schedule until we get a replacement. It shouldn’t take me more than a week or two, honestly.

Irene will want to put you through your paces anyway until she adjusts the schedule to fit you in. ”

“I appreciate you, Nash,” I said, pushing up from my seat.

“Yeah, yeah, go play dress up with the humans,” he said before downing his tea.

“You realize I am human, right?” I laughed.

“Not in the ways that count, Rorie,” he said, shooing me out.