Vexed: A Tidal Kiss Novella (The Tidal Kiss Trilogy Book 5) Read online

  After several hours he surfaces, his eyes glinting rich violet under the low hanging moon and reflecting back the crisp starlight at me. He squints out to shore, satisfied as he dips back beneath the swift sway of the surface, before pulling me after him.

  I yank my wrist from his grasp, not complaining but trying to substantiate that I am perfectly capable of following him myself.

  It’s weird after a while, the silence, but I don’t have the inclination to break it… or the desire to make any sound at all. After all, I’m still silently seething that he’s accompanying me and that he has manipulated both Callie and Orion into believing his presence is so essential.

  Nearing and passing the shoreline, we propel inland, nothing beneath the surface of interest except a lot of discarded plastic and other rubbish, demonstrating the fact that humans are not worthy of this place. Perhaps Poseidon is more than aware of this grim reality; perhaps he has realised that mortals need to be eliminated altogether, so he tasked the worst of us with their destruction.

  He tasked me.

  Finally, we reach our destination.

  Looking to the partiality of the moon out of habit, I close my eyes, cleaving myself from the sea. I feel a tickle as my scales fade to flesh and I phase before climbing, nude, onto the wooden deck of the harbour in this sleepy seaside village. Boats bob effortlessly above the water, the air ripe with the smell of fish fresh from the day’s catch, and ropes that anchor boats to wooden tethers shiver, their frayed edges vibrating in the breeze.

  Before us stand two men in suits, holding torches which cast a too bright light. I feel my pupils dilate fully, exposing me as monstrous as I raise a hand to shield my eyes. Vex stands next to me, dripping.

  “Azure, Vex?” they enquire in unison, and I nod, hair sodden and dripping down my torso as I move the tangled mass to cover my now bare breasts.

  “Yeah, well done, mate. Got any clothes? I’m getting a bloody shrivel on!” Vex complains as one of the suited men tosses a duffel bag to him.

  “Get dressed, we’ll take you to your vehicle when you’re ready.” The one who speaks has dark hair and looks unimpressed. I wonder if Callie Fischer would be receiving such a frosty reception. I doubt it.

  I hear Vex unzip the duffel bag but don’t turn to watch him rummage through the contents, instead staring after the two men who turn from us and make their way back up the dock, which sheens, slick with grime and sea water. I have seen enough of his naked body for a lifetime, with and without tentacles.

  “Catch!” Vex calls and I turn, taking a step back on my bare foot as a large black towel hits me square in the chest before I have a chance to reach for it. Wrapping it around myself, it absorbs the sea water and salt from my skin as I begin ringing out my inky black tresses, watching goosebumps invade my flesh despite my resistance to the cold. Vex dries himself and proceeds to dress in a black t-shirt, which is entirely too tight might I add, some black worn jeans, and a leather jacket before completing the ensemble with steel toed boots. After he’s done, he hands me the bag and I grab a long sleeved black turtleneck sweater, some black, skin-tight jeans, and knee-high flat leather boots. I slip them on over a black lace bra and thong before pulling out one final garment. It turns out I have a similar leather jacket to Vex, but I leave it in the bag as I zip it back up, rolling my eyes.

  As if this trip isn’t bad enough already. Matching leather jackets? Really? What are we, like a team now? I curse, rolling up the sleeves on my sweater and leaning forward slightly so I can flip my damp hair back over my head. I feel the water from it seeping through the fabric, making my lower back cold, but I ignore it, throwing the bag over my shoulder and heading promptly after the two torch-wielding men.

  As I reach the end of the wooden platform, I gaze out into the town, taking in the scene before me. Tiny roads thread between quaint houses made of cobblestone and brick with low roofs, which stand, semi-detached, in a long line opposing the harbour with strings of multi-coloured lights hanging, twinkling in the dark. Wreaths are nailed to doors, blackout curtains drawn, and a noticeable chill is in the air. I guess it’s almost Christmas.

  “Where are we again?” I demand, scrutinising one of the men as I catch up to the identical duo.

  They stand, broad backs to the water, a few inches from a low hanging stone wall, waiting with matching stoic expressions on their faces. I wonder momentarily if they’re twins because if I didn’t know better I’d think I was seeing double.

  “Whitby, Love.” The voice curls through the air like smoke and over my shoulder, reminding me that Vex, who I’ve stormed right past with blissful ignorance, will continue to be an irritating presence.

  “I didn’t ask you.” I glower at him and he rolls his eyes, folding his leather-clad arms across his chest.

  “Well, I’m telling you anyway. That’s why I’m here. Tour guide, right?” He’s trying to break the tension as he lifts a hand, slicking back his silver hair, which reflects moonlight in a too bright and wet sheen back at me. I wonder why he’s even bothering; it’s not like I give a crap what he looks like.

  “Whatever, where’s the car?” I ask them, breathing deeply, and they look suddenly uncomfortable. “What?!” I bark, watching as one of them rummages around in the inner pocket of his tight, tailored suit jacket.

  “We’ve been given specific orders not to give you the keys. He’s the driver,” the man informs me, causing my eyes to narrow as I give him an exasperated stare.

  “Are you freaking serious?” I voice my disdain, and he nods, expression unamused and emotionless as the breeze fails to move even a hair out of place upon his head.

  “Yes. We were also told by your brother to simply say the word ‘Italy’, if you objected.” Vex smirks as he approaches my left side with caution, masking his laugh with a cough. I whirl on the ball of my foot.

  “What?! What’s so funny?!” I snarl, feeling my temper rising to the boiling point solely at his reaction in an unexplainable rush.

  “Nothing… uh… well, I was just thinking about that story, Isabella told me,” he coughs again, covering his mouth, and I scowl.

  “Look, whatever, where’s the car?” I demand. Vex steps forward with an outstretched hand. Taking the keys in his palm, he examines them with a furrowed brow.

  “That’s funny…” He sounds confused, and I turn again.

  “What? What could possibly be funny about a set of keys?” I insist, utterly tired of his presence. He smirks before his lips twist into a look of uncertainty.

  “Well, I asked Orion for a classically British car. You know, something with style. I was hoping for an Aston Martin. I used to know this girl… loved those bloody cars… she let me drive hers once. Right little spitfire she was. Red head… nice arse… thing for leather pants.” He gets carried away with this internal reverie, licking his bottom lip, and so I growl audibly, wanting to get moving.

  “Vex! Stick to the point!” I scold him, and he shakes his head, as though his vision of the red head with a nice rear has been shattered by my high-pitched tone, destroyed like a beautiful glass mural made dust.

  “Oh, well these aren’t really modern. They’re not even battery powered. Where’s the car?” he asks the two stoic individuals and they turn, pointing in silence down the road.

  On the bend of the quiet street where only a few street lamps illuminate the path, a miniscule, bright yellow car sits.

  “Oh, bloody hell!” Vex complains, and I exhale, my breath visible in the cold of the night.

  “I am NOT getting in that thing with you!” I protest, immediately horrified of being in such tight quarters with him.

  “You think I want to drive a bloody mini cooper? A classic mini cooper no less? Are you nuts! I saved the bloody world, and I get a goddamn mini? And in yellow? What about me and my badassery screams that ‘beauteous butternut’ is my favourite colour to you?” He looks appalled, and I sigh, knowing I need to remember the reason why we’re here. It’s not about Vex or how much I
hate him. It’s about Arabella.

  “How far is it to wherever we’re going?” I enquire with haste. He glances at me, seemingly nervous, as I place a hand on my hip and breathe in the crisp saltiness of the air with an exasperated glare.

  “About two and a half hours,” he announces. I turn to the men on my right, taking control of the situation because apparently no one else is up for the challenge.

  “What’s the time? Check in for the hotel ends at 11:30pm right?” I demand, and they nod, synchronised and continually stiff in posture.

  Both look to their identical watches, but only one speaks. It’s interesting as I notice only now that neither of them have British accents.

  “It’s seven thirty.”

  “We better get going; we might be late. And I’m not sleeping out on the street,” I complain, striding past them and moving through the amber glow of streetlights overhead. I hear Vex begin to tread heavy in my wake, the hard metal of his steel-toed boots clipping the concrete, which is beginning to frost, hard. The scent of smoke from nearby chimneys fills the air as I put space between the marina and me and I inhale it fondly. Reaching the car, I find it hard not to lose my cool at the fact it’s only smaller in person.

  “Before I get into this lemon meringue death-trap with you I should probably ask, where are we going exactly?” I place my arm on the roof of the car, which only comes up to my breasts at a push.

  “Lincoln,” is Vex’s only reply as he angrily slots the keys into the door and turns them. I watch, fascinated, as he squeezes like a contortionist into the driver’s seat.

  Pulling open my own door, I duck down and look into the interior as Vex pushes the driver’s seat as far back as it’ll go.

  “Oh, crap,” I cuss, throwing the duffle bag onto the back seat.

  Vex sighs.

  “Hoping it would be bigger on the inside?” He looks as if this is some kind of joke I should get, but I don’t. Instead, I shrug, bending down and lowering myself into the car, which is cold and smells of stale chemical residue. My head is only a few inches from the roof and Vex’s neck is bent as he peers through the tiny windscreen.

  “This is bloody cosy,” he rolls his eyes, slamming his door shut and ramming the keys into the ignition. I close my own door, not bothering to put on the seatbelt. Propping my feet up on the dash, Vex looks at me with a cocked brow.

  “Comfy, love?” he smirks, and I scowl.

  “My coffin had more room than this shit can,” I complain. Before I can ask him what he’s doing, he reaches out, putting his hand between my legs.

  “Woah, what the hell do you think you’re doing!” I yell, and he rolls his eyes with a snort.

  “I’m trying to get to the glove compartment, Love,” he sighs. I drop my legs, placing both feet back on the floor as he reaches into the seamlessly hidden compartment in front of me.

  Inside, the license and registration for the vehicle are stored, as well as a wallet stuffed full of cash for the three-day trip. Atop it all, something catches his attention and his eyes light up.

  “Alright, now we’re talking!” he exclaims, pulling out the carton of cigarettes and slamming the small compartment shut yet again. He takes out a cigarette, placing it between two fingers and raising it to his lips. He pats down his chest, looking momentarily horrified before checking the glove compartment again. He reaches across my body as he does so, and I flinch, scowling at him.

  “This is bloody Onion’s doing. Piss-take of a car, fags and no light. That arsehole!” he curses out my brother, and I roll my eyes finding myself unable to stop.

  “Can we just go, already!” I burst, frustrated as all hell. Despite the cold of the English night outside, the temperature within this matchbox of a car is now rising quickly with each second I’m stuck inside, causing increasing claustrophobia at Vex’s proximity.

  “Alright, alright. Keep your bloody hair on! I’m going!” He grunts, taking the cigarette from his lips and slotting it into the pocket of his leather jacket for safekeeping.

  Turning the key in the ignition, the car trembles to life, the metal shell surrounding us vibrating, as if it is too frail to handle the engine. “And away we go!” Vex gives a victorious smile and stares at me with far too much enthusiasm.

  As we pull away from the curb, the entire car thuds to the ground, the tyres on the left side of the vehicle making sudden and unapologetic contact with the cobblestones of the road.

  I don’t respond to Vex’s ridiculous smile, and have no desire to pass this trip in anything but silence, so I sit back and try to relax.

  He spins the steering wheel back to straighten us on the road, and I look out of the tiny window, flipping the two men in suits the bird as we pass while a smirk forms, wicked, on my lips.

  The stones beneath the car are making it shudder and shake with increasing ferocity as we drive over them, and I can feel each and every one in the base of my spine. I tense in my seat as we turn onto a smoother road, moving not so discreetly past houses where ordinary families will soon lie dreaming.

  Under the chill of the winter sky, we leave Whitby and head out in search of she who was my family, and who had stopped dreaming long ago.

  Vex apparently gets tired of the silent treatment, and as we pull onto what he informs me is a ‘dual carriageway’, to absolutely no response from me, he begins to fidget beside me.

  As we crawl, too slowly, down the wide road, the wheels pitiful in their attempt at long distance travel, Vex begins to hum.

  I ignore him, turned toward the window and giving nothing but a blank stare to the passing blur of identical trees, quaint looking pubs with ridiculous names like The Cock Inn, and the odd gas station. Soon though, he starts tapping his fingers on the leather of the steering wheel, an irritating, grating rhythm.

  I don’t turn, I don’t want him to know he’s annoying me, but slowly, despite how hard I try to make it otherwise, my rage starts to build.

  Soon, his foot begins to tap each and every time he takes it from the clutch after changing gear, and his tongue picks up the infuriating melody as he clicks it against his teeth and the roof of his mouth. The sticky heat inside of the car, the smell of him, and the rattling of the mini’s bodywork mixed with his continuing attempt at becoming an anatomical one-man band, finally pushes me over the edge.

  “VEX!” I bellow, and he jumps, the car swerving in its lane as he pulls a hard left on the steering wheel, the tyres screeching as he rushes to correct our course. I reach over and smack him round the back of the head as he does so, growling.

  “What the bloody hell was that for?!” he yells, and I glare at him.

  “Can you not just shut the hell up? I don’t need all your humming and your… stupid foot tapping. For the love of all that is freaking sacred, just… stop!” I exclaim, my eyes dilating. He looks completely mystified.

  “I’m bored! I’d get better bloody conversation if I was driving a hearse!” he complains, and I feel my expression turn exasperated.

  “What are you…four?” I berate him, realising quickly that Kayla is easier to entertain.

  “This is a long ass drive, and these carriageways all look the damn same to me. I’m trying to stay alert!” He justifies his incessant need to irritate the hell out of me, voice ringing against the too thin metal body of the car like clanging dustbin lids.

  “Well… fine… why don’t we play that game? Will that shut you up?” I enquire, desperate for some solution that doesn’t involve actually making conversation with him.

  “What, eye-spy?” He gets a wicked look on his face. “Oh, Love. I thought you’d never ask.”

  “I spy with my little eye something beginning with S…” I sigh. Now I’m the one who’s bored. It’s been three hours, and despite the fact that we’ve been driving forever, it seems like we’re never going to reach our destination at this rate.

  “Uh… super sexy Vexy?” Vex gestures to himself, a smirk on his lips as he pulls into a layby and turns around for the
fourth time this hour.

  “No. Someone who is lost!” I reveal, and he rolls his eyes, predictable as ever.

  “I’m not bloody lost!” he protests, and I cross my arms, scowling.

  “Look, just ask for directions! You clearly are lost; we were supposed to be there half an hour ago and I don’t even see any signs for Lincoln!” I yell, and Vex pushes down hard on the accelerator, channelling his anger into something that isn’t me, as we re-join the sparse and fast-moving traffic.

  “I am the vessel of bloody Poseidon! The vessel of bloody Poseidon doesn’t ask for bloody directions! It’s fine!” he shouts in an almost growl, and I feel my expression turn shocked at his tone.

  “The vessel of bloody Poseidon is BLOODY LOST! Ask for freaking directions, or I’m going to punch you in your fat head!” I threaten him, and he slouches forward over the steering wheel, peering with a furious expression through the tiny windscreen, showing no sign of slowing down.

  I lurch forward, slapping his arm and hitting my head on the roof of the car at the same time as I go for him. He swats me away.

  “Stop! Bloody get off me you shitting psycho!” he complains, putting one hand on my face and holding me back as I try to reach him with my arms. They’re only just too short, so there is that. “Ha! There it is! Lincoln! This way!” He looks to me, his eyes triumphant as we move onto a roundabout and he relinquishes control of my face.

  As we whirl around the weird junction, I’m sure we’ve been around this stupid thing more than once tonight, and as it is, the constant motion in the motoring equivalent of a go-kart is making me feel sick.

  “We better be there soon. If we miss check-in, I’m sleeping in the car and you’re out on the street,” I ball my fists in my lap and slump back in my seat, which squeaks beneath my weight.

  “Trust me, if we get there without me killing you, I’m never getting in this damn car with you again. That’s a bloody promise, Love.” He makes the vow, serious, and I cock my head giving him a beyond irritated glare.