To Shackle a Shrew (Southern Sanctuary Book 7) Read online

  Speaking of which, Devon noted the time, damn, over an hour late. She’d lost her wager. Anger started to roil in her stomach and her fingernails itched to rend, tear and destroy. It wasn’t just the embarrassment of these disastrous dates that was beginning to piss her off, it was the sheer unadulterated lack of respect for her as a person.

  Did the Chambers’ brothers think she wanted to marry one of them? That she’d been pining since the cradle for her magical wedding day to arrive? That she wanted to share her life, her home, with a stranger? Shackle herself to someone that she barely knew? Even if it were merely for a decade.

  The best she’d been hoping for was to find someone she could respect, who would respect her in return. Ideally, she’d been hoping they could form a partnership… them against the families, and all the pressures they wielded. Hah, what a pipe dream. At this rate, based upon the suitors she’d met thus far, she was going to have to invest in an ankle bracelet and a perimeter alarm to keep her new husband in check.

  Idly, Devon drummed her fingers on the table, careful to keep her nails in check so she didn’t gouge the wood. Nico would probably understand if she slipped up and took out her frustrations on the furniture but she was guessing his stoic brother, Matias, would be less than impressed.

  Devon released a slow breath. She needed to keep things in perspective. It could always be worse. Her grandmother could be here… yes, things could definitely be worse.

  If nothing else the last seven weeks had been blissfully peaceful on the family front. No, two in the morning phone calls from her Aunts, who kept conveniently forgetting the time difference. No awkward skyping with her mother, demanding to know if she’d set a wedding date yet, her grandmother pacing back and forth in the back ground.

  Funny, her family always asked if she’d set a date. Not, had she chosen a husband? The man, himself, appeared to be immaterial.

  The maternal Makura society had skewed many of her relatives’ views on the world. She could only thank Yami that growing up she’d been allowed to spend two months every year with her father and his people. Her Dad was a lagoon deity, based in Hawaii. While she hadn’t always been able to relate to their easy going ways and relaxed lifestyle it had exposed her to life outside the Makura society… made her crave more than the insular court lifestyle.

  It had also provided her with a certain degree of patience and cultural sensitivity alien to most Makura who only left the society long enough to mate or fulfil their betrothal contracts. Compared to most of her relatives Devon was positively laid back. Something she was often mocked for at court. Her relatives considered her too slow to anger. Deriding her for lashing out with her tongue first before resorting to physical retribution.

  If only she could make them understand why she preferred to use words to belittle her opponents as a first strike. There was no true pain like decimating a man’s ego. Of course, if the man in question continued to annoy her, there was always the option of gutting them open like a freshly caught tuna.

  Devon’s eyes flicked to the clock once more. Two minutes to go. The crowd around her likewise were eyeing the clock and the front door. A minute. Thirty seconds, ten seconds. Nada, an official no-show. Two people clapped and crowed loudly, ah, so there were some winners after all.

  Suppressing a sigh Devon picked up her Loewe bag, dug out her mobile phone and turned it on. Turning one’s phone off during a date was only good manners, suitor number three had had to learn that lesson the hard way. She blinked as the phone instantly began ringing.

  “Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phone?” Nell sounded uncharacteristically irate.

  “Whoa there Pollyanna, language. You kiss your mother with that potty-mouth?”

  “Don’t mess with me River Floozy. I need you back here fast, we have an emergency and… hey, don’t… oh, Goddess-” There came the sound of crashing metal, a male voice hollering in the background and several women yelling. “Just get here fast.”

  Devon sighed. Sounded like Nell was having a problem back at the hospital. The right thing to do would be to find the nearest trans-locator, ask one of the locals to key in the location and get to the hospital ASAP. Problem was, those ridiculous closets made her hair frizz. Hmm, medical emergency versus her hair? Huh, why was she even having this internal debate? Her hair would always take precedence.

  Gathering her things she stood, rummaging in her bag for her car keys.

  “You going to hunt him down, Devon?”

  “Need any help?”

  “Where are you going to start looking first, Devon?”

  Devon sighed, honestly, if she didn’t give the crowd something, they might well follow her around for the rest of the day. Easier to manage them here and now. “That was the hospital. Nell needs me to come in and help with a patient.” She assumed it was a patient. Nell hadn’t really provided any details and with all that banging around in the background and yelling, who knows what was going on.

  As she drove out of her parking spot a police cruiser pulled in front of her car, its siren blaring. Hmmm, police escort. It was a little disconcerting that Nell knew her so well that she realised Devon would choose to drive, over the quicker, but more damaging to her hair option, of translocating. Damn, Nell and she had become close without her even noticing. That was the problem with these country bumpkins, they were sneaky and tenacious.

  Though in their favour, despite all their smiles and welcoming ways they were at least never boring. Not when it came to her job anyway. As an Ear, Nose and Throat Specialist she’d been wondering how she would keep herself occupied in a small country town hospital with its attached clinic. Thankfully she’d forgotten to factor in the magic aspect of the Southern Sanctuary.

  She pondered with clinical anticipation what might be waiting for her at the hospital. Exploded eardrum thanks to a Harpy shriek. Maybe a shredded oesophagus due to a backfired spell or magical attack. It was a far cry from her Sydney practice full of deviated septums, earaches and itchy throats.

  Twelve minutes later she was buttoning her white coat, striding down the ground floor corridor headed towards the emergency care section of the hospital. Her first clue that something had gone seriously awry was the water sluicing around her boots. Thank Yami for patent leather.

  The second clue was the sight of Nell - hair never out of place, wrinkle free, dressed to perfection, annoyingly serene – Montgomery.

  Devon quickly snatched her mobile phone from her pocket and took a photo. “That is so my new screen saver.” She crowed, beaming at the photo before turning that smile on a startlingly bedraggled Nell.

  Nell’s upper lip curled back, an uncharacteristic snarl issuing from her mouth. “What took you so long? I told you it was an emergency.” She crossed her arms, glaring at Devon, her right foot beginning to tap out an impatient rhythm, except with the water on the floor she only made a splashing sound.

  “What happened to you?” Devon catalogued Nell’s wet hair, half of it having fallen out of her usual elegant chignon, a few wet strands plastered across her forehead. And her clothes! Nell’s white coat was damp, stained with mysterious blue splotches and her beige skirt was ripped from knee to mid-thigh. “You look like you’ve been pulled through a car wash… backwards.”

  “Not important… we need your help…”

  “Oh Yami, your shoes!” Devon looked down aghast at the navy suede Kate Spade ankle boots Nell was wearing.

  Nell leapt forward, grabbing Devon by the upper arms, her blue eyes blazing a deep indigo. “Do. Not. Mention. My. Shoes.”

  “Sure… sure.” Devon instantly went along with whatever the crazy lady in the white coat wanted. She’d known Nell since they were enemies and rivals at medical school and she couldn’t recall goody two shoes Pollyanna losing her cool like this ever. Whatever the problem was, it had to be big, it had to be bad and there would need to be retribution… for Nell’s shoes, if nothing else.

  “We have a… difficult patient.” Nell gest
ured behind her down the corridor at the mess.

  Devon noted broken medical equipment, sodden bedding and what looked like hastily swept up piles of shattered ceiling tiles and pieces of plaster. Two janitors hovered a few feet beyond the mess, at the ready with mops and brooms. Both men were drenched and one had a fresh band-aide plastered to his bruised jaw. Obviously there already been an attempted clean up but for the moment they had retreated to a safe distance.

  Milling behind the janitors were several maintenance men, carrying wrenches, buckets and assorted other heavy equipment. Hmmm, this patient was causing quite the impact on the hospital and its staff.

  “Is there a chart?”

  “There was a chart.” Nell looked towards the mess on the ground. “He was fine when we bought him in.” She began pulling Devon towards the private trauma room. “Motorcycle accident. We managed to assess him. Right tibia and fibula broken. Same with his left ankle and multiple fractures of the foot. He’s sustained serious burns to the upper chest, throat and face, luckily he was wearing a leather jacket and helmet. I would surmise his lungs are affected also. He took a nasty crack to the skull but no fracture. Neck, spine and arms all look good.”

  “His arms?” Devon dug her heels in, sliding slightly on the wet linoleum. It was human instinct to put your hands out or down when you suffered a fall. Either their newest patient had lost consciousness prior to the crash or something had prevented him from doing so.

  Nell nodded. “The burns are suspicious too.” Nell gave a pointed glance at the water streaming out of the room they were now standing across from. “He was fine when I first began treating him but then he started to get… agitated.” Nell sent the water another glare. “When we tried to deal with his legs he went totally - Carrie at the Prom – bat shit. Carl has a concussion and one of the nurses, a broken arm. Since then we’ve stopped all treatment and have just been trying to keep him calm until you could get here.”

  Devon paused at the threshold of the treatment room and glanced in at the war zone. The lights overhead were flickering, ceiling tiles missing, some lying broken, wet and mushy on the floor. A cabinet had been tipped over and one wall was decorated with a floor to ceiling black electrical burn, the smell of extinguisher foam tainting the air.

  Gaping holes were punched in the walls, as if something large and angry had been trapped behind the plaster and wanted to get out… no, that wasn’t it. The holes corresponded to where water pipes were located. They’d burst, spewing out plaster and water. It must have been quite a volume of liquid, the room looked like a bombsite and though someone had obviously had the bright idea of turning the water off, liquid continued to leak down the walls, across the floor and into the corridor.

  The place was beyond a mess.

  In the very centre of the room lay Nell’s troublesome patient, his features completely obscured by the layer of blue salve Nell had managed to apply to his burns. They must have been severe, for the layer of salve was so thick he looked more like a Smurf than a man. Even his hair had been coated and stood on end in bright blue spikes. A sodden sheet covered his lower extremities. A drenched to the bone nurse looking a little scared but determined, remained close by the patient, monitoring him, obviously trying to keep him calm.

  “Well, have fun.” Devon turned to leave but Nell latched onto her arm with surprising strength.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Devon shrugged. “I’m an ENT specialist.” She pointed into the room. “This is clearly a trauma case, call me in for a consult on his throat and lungs when he’s plastered, sedated and clean.”

  “You.” Nell actually tightened her hold on Devon, her indigo eyes sparkling as strong emotion warred across her face. “… are not going anywhere. This… man, is your responsibility.”

  Devon fought not to roll her eyes, talk about magical stereotyping. Just because the Smurf could call water did not make him a blood relative, a friend or even an acquaintance.

  Both she and Nell looked back into the room as the patient released a low groan and his head began to move. The nurse, a look of concern on her pretty face, leant over her patient, monitoring closely as his blue gummed eyelashes fluttered apart.

  “Hey.” His voice though low and rough was perfectly audible as he turned his head to focus on the nurse hovering over him. “Is this a wet t-shirt competition? Am I a Judge?”

  The nurse let out a shocked gasp, crossed her arms protectively over her drenched uniform and exited the room fast, glaring hard at both Nell and Devon.

  “And there goes the last of the nurses.” Nell mourned. “He’s officially blacklisted.”

  Devon frowned. Oh Yami, no. The water. The insensitive male comment. He just had to be… “Shit, this is one of Case’s brothers, isn’t it?”

  Rivers and Lakes, no wonder suitor number six had been late for their date.

  Chapter Two

  Liam Chambers was having a weird-ass, graphic dream. One with state of the art sound, 3D action and an array of gorgeous women. Problem was, he really wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. There’d been fire… strange fire… something about the fire. And then pain. Lots of pain. His legs. Hurt to breathe. Discomfort and a lot more pain. Then bright lights, voices and a beautiful woman, big blue eyes, gentle hands, then soothing coolness. His face and chest felt better, then floating… shit, no, not drugs. Didn’t they know what would happen if they used drugs on him?

  More sound, screams, things breaking. Hmmm, the feel of water against his skin, nice, he wanted more of that. More loud noises, screaming. Then calm and quiet for a while, just the sound of dripping water and hushed upset voices. Then a buxom naughty nurse. Damn, where did she go?

  Hello, a naughty doctor. Pretty was too nice a word to describe her. Beautiful, flawless dark skin, full lips and dark flashing eyes that sparkled with green flecks. This was the moment she was supposed to trail a finger down his chest, heat in her eyes and tell him in her breathiest voice that she was here to conduct an extensive examination. One that would be best conducted with the two of them naked.

  He tried to give her his trademark ‘you know you want me, just give in to it baby’ smile. But his face felt weird, stiff, numb. He watched in anticipation as she bent over his chest. So close now he could smell her; driftwood, white lilies, magnolia and jasmine. Good to know there was nothing wrong with his nose… or his cock for that matter.

  “That’s new.”

  Liam tore his eyes from hot exotic doctor, pleased to see that blue eyes was back and eyeing his obviously aroused state, hey she was a doctor too… hmmm, two of them, one of him… a threesome. But still, if he had to choose… his eyes slid back to the exotic beauty in time to see her gaze flick down his body before she rolled her eyes heavenwards.

  “If you think that’s new, then you and Drum are doing something wrong.”

  “Hah, very funny. So how do you suggest I treat a patient who has such an adverse reaction to pain relief and won’t let anyone close enough to plaster his legs?”

  “Got any seaweed?”

  Liam drifted for a while. There was more coolness, over his chest, throat and face. Finally the throbbing ache in his legs began to recede. A couple of times, just when he was about to totally succumb to blissful sleep he coughed… by the Trident, that hurt. Setting off a chain reaction through his body, waves of pain crashing, racking him.

  The soothing voices came back, the naughty hot doctor, then something jelly like was poured down his throat, it tasted rancid but oh, the relief… his throat, breathing… his whole body practically sighed in relief. Then sleep came… or unconsciousness.

  * * *

  There was nothing more restful than the sound of lapping water. Hmmm, Liam took a deep breath wanting to inhale the familiar smells he normally associated with a slow moving river… what the hell? His throat and lungs felt like they were on fire. Fucking ouch, his eyes shot open. Just what sort of hellish rotgut whiskey had he been drinking last night? He blinked, hi
s eyes felt crusty, his eyelashes sticky. By the Trident… he stared down his body in disbelief.

  Was this some weird practical joke? His chest was covered in layers of seaweed and appeared to be oozing some sort of bright blue slime. He took a shallow couple of breaths, suddenly very aware that his chest, his throat, his face, all felt numb and kind of foreign. He bought his hands up quickly, his fingers resting on what felt like more layers of seaweed draped over his chin, his cheeks, nose and forehead. Bloody hell, he held his hands out in front of him, blue goo clinging to his fingers, the tips beginning to grow numb. Weird.

  Seriously? What was going on? He shifted on the bed. Fuck. And he’d thought taking deep breaths had hurt, what was going on with his legs was a whole other category of pain. Using his elbows he levered himself up slightly to stare down past the sheet draped modestly over his hips and upper thighs. Shit, more layers of seaweed, this time wrapped around his right leg from the knee to his toes whilst on his left side, only his ankle and foot were wrapped. No bright blue goo from what he could tell, instead, what looked like clear coloured slime glistened from between the encasing seaweed layers.

  Liam lowered himself carefully back down onto the mattress, already having figured out that the less he moved, the less pain he’d have to deal with. Okay, he’d put on hold the question of what the hell was going on and change it to, where the hell was he?

  He was clearly in a bedroom. A nice one too. The bed was king sized, with a black lacquered head board. There was a silver-edged black nightstand next to the bed, on it sat a silver pineapple lamp with a dark shade, a glass of water, a box of tissues and a tub of bright blue goo. The floorboards were bare and painted black, same as the walls. All the black was offset by the fact that the back wall of the bedroom was all glass, sliding doors in fact, slightly open to allow the smells of the river below to permeate the room. The water was incredibly close, it took Liam a few seconds to work out that the house must be built on stilts out over the water itself… cool.