Ain't No Bull: The Veil, #4

By Danica Avet

Isola "Izzy" Malone is proud to be an Amazon. After years of roaming, she finally finds a home with the Blood Maiden Tribe. But contentment made her wild, which is how Izzy ends up exiled to Middle-of-Nowhere, Wyoming. The most fun she can look forward to is rescuing a dumb bull from a group of nymphs. Only he isn't a bull, but a minotaur. A really hot, sexy, big minotaur.

Grant Strickland isn't ready to commit to a harem of placid cow-swans; not yet. But when he's accosted by a crazy Amazon who's determined to "save" him, he thinks the whole mating thing might be worth a try. Trouble follows Izzy, but it'll take both of them to stop it from becoming war. Grant will use his skills, and cheat, to show Izzy where she really belongs is with him as a mate

• Language: English
• Publisher: Danica Avet
• Release date: Aug 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781540135537

Book preview

Chapter One

Fucking Wyoming. Of all places to be exiled to, why couldn’t it be Maui, or Palm Beach? Somewhere tropical with lots of half-naked men waiting to be spanked? No, she ended up here. Where it was cold as hell and there probably wasn’t a male in a fifty-mile radius good at cleaning. Mumbling to herself, Isola Izzy Malone got out of her Tahoe and grabbed her duffle bag out the cargo area.

Snow crunched under her feet as she stalked to the longhouse. The Black Dogs had abandoned this camp thirty years earlier, leaving behind shells of buildings. Stomping inside the structure Izzy groaned and dropped the bag. Fucking wonderful. Cobwebs the size of demons decorated the corners of the building, thirty years of dust had accumulated on the floors, and there was a big hole in the roof. The pile of snow that had settled inside was nearly as tall as she was.

Sniffing the air cautiously, Izzy determined that no other Veilerians had crashed there recently, though the sweet smell of marijuana lingered in the air. Kids hiding out for a toke, she figured. They’d be surprised if they showed up again because there was no way she’d let a bunch of snot-nosed brats interrupt her piss-off time.

A wolf howled in the distance, making her feel homesick. Wyoming was a far cry from south Louisiana. At this time of night, she’d be on her way to Lafayette to watch some man candy with her best friends at her side. But she wasn’t, all because of a fucking song she shouldn’t have played.

Izzy kicked the wall, making the longhouse shudder. Spitting out a curse, she grabbed her bag. She’d sleep in the SUV tonight, and tomorrow she’d clean up the building, repair the roof, and ready herself for a long, boring year.

THE NYMPHS WERE READY for action. The come-hither looks on their beautiful faces set his libido into overtime. If there was one thing a minotaur couldn’t refuse, it was a hot woman who was ready for a roll. Multiply that hot woman by five and he’d be in nirvana the rest of the week. They’d approached him, all six of them, while he was having a few drinks with his employees, and now he followed them from Duffy’s like any red-blooded male would.

Grant waved at his employees with a smug smile. The nymphs hadn’t made any secret of what they wanted when they’d surrounded him at the table. He’d had one on each knee and the rest stroking parts of his body for nearly an hour. He was ready.

Duffy, the demon lord who owned the place, shot Grant a dirty look as he polished the hardwood of his bar. Since it was the only bar in Eustis, Wyoming, Duffy pretty much made up his own rules and didn’t give a shit if the bar was one of the ugliest buildings in town. Grant winked at the demon just as he slammed the door shut, knowing it would irritate him.

The little beauties crowded closer to him as he led them to his truck, his dick hardening with every step. Luckily, the nymphs were petite because they had no trouble piling into his King Cab F-450. Pleased with the upcoming orgy action, Grant relaxed for the first time in months as he drove to the perfect spot. The old Amazon camp was always empty, and with no one around, they could make as much noise as they wanted.

The females cooed over his muscles and the size of his chest as he struggled to concentrate on the road. They marveled at his height and stroked his ego like professionals. Grant groaned as one of them stroked more than his ego. Oh yeah, this was turning out to be the best night ever.

Just that morning his bid to provide security for the Veilerian Ball had gone through. The good press would bring Strickland Securities to the masses. His goal to have the leading protection agency in the Veil was right on track and he couldn’t have been happier.

Ladies, ladies, he said with a smirk as two of them slapped at each other. There’s more than enough of me to go around.

Mm, I just bet, minotaur, the nymph in the passenger seat purred, her eyes trained on his crotch.

I love how big you are, another said, this one a redhead with gigantic breasts. How big are you as a bull?

Where are we going? Will it take long to get there? one of the blondes asked, her bright eyes meeting his in the rearview mirror.

Grant chuckled at her impatience even as he pulled into the old Black Dog Camp. We’re already here, babe. This is an old Amazon camp. They left Eustis years ago, so we have it all to ourselves.

He pulled to a stop in the middle of camp. The females were sexy, but he didn’t trust them in his pastures. His peace and quiet was almost as important to him as his company, and the only ones who ruined it on a regular basis were his sisters and mother.

Grant had a female wrapped around his waist the minute he got out of the truck. He laughed, rubbing her ass as he led the others towards the longhouse.

Could you change for us? one of the nymphs asked in a breathless voice.

It wasn’t the first time a female asked him that. There was something about the minotaur’s human size that made women want to see him in his animal form. He sighed, deciding to indulge them. Setting his passenger on the ground, he stepped back.

The change came swiftly. At a hundred and fifty-eight, Grant was an old hand at shifting. All three shapes came to him easily, though he rarely ever used the half-man, half-bull form for anything. His body thickened, his horns extended, and his hands tightened into hooves. His clothing peeled away from his new form, falling to puddle on the ground. The females made soft gasping sounds of appreciation as he became the bull.

Their little delicate hands stroked over his black hide, caressed the length of his horns, and tickled the ring through his septum. He snorted, stamping his hooves. He hated anyone touching the ring, which wasn’t surprising since the ring could easily incapacitate him.

He was just about to change back to lead the women to the longhouse when one of those little hands grabbed the ring and tugged. Tears burned his eyes at the sharp pain. He instinctively tried to shift back to his human form, but couldn’t concentrate with the pressure on the ring.

Finally, the nymph said with a snarl. Let’s get his ass to the ceremony site before Master Ormond comes looking for us.

The women flowed around him, following the little bitch leading him across the Black Dog Camp.

Shit, he was in trouble. Again. All because of his dick. His employees were still at the bar thinking their boss was playing a half dozen rounds of giddy-up. His sisters were probably picking out the cow-swans they wanted to introduce him to. He was on his own and incapacitated. Fuck.

His ears flickered back and forth as he searched the night for any kind of aid. If there was one thing his father had taught him before kicking him out of the herd, it was never to be too proud to ask for help.

The nymphs led him across the open center of the old camp, heading north. They were quiet, though the grip around his ring never relaxed. What did they want with him anyway? He wasn’t an important person, living quietly on his land. Maybe they were with a rival security company. His work for the Ball was a prime job, one most people would kill to get. The other agencies he’d been up against were big hitters with a lot more experience, but Strickland Securities had won.

A soft hiss broke the silence. Rolling his eyes, he saw a tall figure standing in the darkness of the longhouse. Grant couldn’t tell if it was male or female, but the height made him think it had to be a man. He almost let out a moo of relief as the nymphs stopped dead in their tracks.

Well, well, what’s this? a husky voice asked, sending shivers down Grant’s spine. Is this a housewarming gift? ’Cause I gotta tell ya, there’s nothing I love more than sautéed bull balls.

Grant’s hope for rescue died a harsh, swift death and his balls shrank into his body. Holy shit.

Chapter Two

Izzy held her dagger against her leg. She didn’t want the little nymphs to see the glint of steel in the moonlight. The bull rolled his eyes, the whites showing as foam gathered around his mouth. Poor thing was freaking out, and why wouldn’t he? The nymph holding his ring was hanging off it like a booger. Didn’t they know how much pain and discomfort that caused the cattle?

This isn’t any of your business, fat ass, one of the nymphs snarled. She had red hair and great big breasts that made her look like the prow of a ship.

Izzy raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to grin. Fat ass? Hon, I hate to say it, but you have no room to be calling me a fat ass when you’re hauling udders around like that, she drawled, relaxing the grip on her dagger.

The nymph gasped. You bitch! she growled, running for Izzy.

Yay! A fight!

Looking from the dagger she’d reflexively armed herself with to the frail nymph, Izzy sheathed it again. It would be more fun to fight the nymph hand-to-hand, which sounded so wrong in her head. Nymphs didn’t fight. They were too busy getting all touchy-feely with their chosen elements.

Shrugging, Izzy stormed forward. Going by the red hair, Izzy expected the burning hot hands that grabbed her ponytail. She let the fire nymph get a good grip before she reached back and punched the ever lovin’ shit out of her.

Eyes rolling to the back of her head, the nymph fell. Too bad her ass wasn’t as big as her tits. She might’ve landed a little softer.

Four of the other nymphs skipped over waving their hands as they called their elements. Within seconds, Izzy was drenched in water which quickly froze, and the earth opened up to trap her foot. Laughing with delight, she grabbed one of the water nymphs and threw her into her friends. The girls went down like bowling pins giving Izzy enough time to pull her foot out of the ground before they got to their feet.

She ducked as a fireball blasted past her head. It melted the ice on her body, but singed some of her hair. Miffed that her hair wasn’t going to look so great tomorrow, Izzy tossed her dagger at the fire nymph. The hilt hit the nymph’s temple, knocking her out in one shot.

Apparently the other nymphs took exception to the casual maneuver because the tiny, hair-pulling, scratching females swarmed her.

Ouch! Izzy shouted as one of the little botherations pulled her head back by a hank of hair.

She didn’t want to kill the women. She didn’t know what they could possibly want with the bull and wouldn’t have bothered them except for one of them calling her a fat ass. So her weight was a sore spot, so what? But she wasn’t going to let the little shits get away with it.

No longer playing nice, she threw out her elbow catching one of the women in the throat. The nymph gagged and staggered back. Izzy bitch-slapped another nymph hard enough to knock her out, and greeted the last one with a knee to the face. Her blood rushing through her veins at the excitement of the fight, Izzy looked around for more.

Moans, groans, and sniffles from the fallen women punctuated the air. Peering into the night, she could see the last conscious nymph lead the bull from camp. Izzy’s blood raced with exhilaration and a need for battle, which meant that Little Bo Fool was going to lose her bull. Grinning at her own goofiness, she pondered the battered nymphs.

Grabbing some rope from her SUV, Izzy quickly tied up the unconscious women. Linking them together, she made sure the knots were nice and uncomfortably tight before she snagged her backpack from the Tahoe.

She locked her SUV and sauntered after the bull and nymph. Arms swinging in time with the song in her head, she mused over what they could possibly want with a bull. Nymphs weren’t violent and were usually a helluva lot nicer than these had been. Either they were spooked, or they had a damn bad reason for pissing off an Amazon because gods knew that wasn’t something any of the races liked to do. Her only consolation was that they were Veilerians, not human. Otherwise, she’d be up shit creek without a paddle. Again.

With the exception of the pained grunts of the bull in the distance, all was quiet. Wyoming was too quiet. Where were all the damn people? She’d even be glad to see humans at this point. What about mosquitoes? It felt weird not having to fight off dog-sized bloodsuckers that could carry off a small child. Shaking the homesick thoughts from her mind, Izzy concentrated on catching up with the nymph and the bull.

It didn’t take her long to spot them. The bull was resistant, well, as resistant as he could be considering the little monster was leading him around by his nose. His tail swished angrily and foam dripped from his mouth. Izzy wasn’t a fan of drool, but she did feel sorry for the bull. Sighing, she strapped the pack to her back and secured it.

And here she thought she was going to be bored. Not even in camp for four hours and she was already on a rescue mission. Rescuing a cow, but still, it was better than twiddling her thumbs in her car.

She stretched her legs and eyed the distance between her and the bull. Yup, she could do it. No problem. She took off running.

GRANT GRUNTED, WINCING at the pull on his nose ring. The little psycho bitch guiding him slapped his snout. So pissed he was foaming at the mouth, he planned revenge. He’d shave all her hair off, smear her in honey, and leave her for the bear shifters to find. No, that wasn’t good enough. He’d tie her up in a room with his sisters for a week. Their constant drone would kill her.

He didn’t know who the bull-ball-eating woman was, but he’d wanted to cheer for her when she kicked the other women’s asses. She’d moved like a whirlwind, and other than one little ouch she hadn’t said a word. She was some kind of warrior, no doubt a Veilerian, though he couldn’t remember seeing any female warriors in these parts for years.

The nymph muttered something under her breath about plans going awry when sudden weight on Grant’s back made him rear, pulling at the ring the nymph held. He bellowed in pained fury as the little bitch spun around to get a better grip.

A long leg appeared, the foot attached to that leg landing in the nymph’s face with a sickening crunch. Grant didn’t care. The pressure on the ring had finally eased and he felt almost normal. Well, except for the long legs wrapped around his back.

Heels dug into his sides and long fingers grabbed his horns. Giddy-up! His savior’s husky voice shouted in his ears. C’mon, bull! Get up and go! Those little bitches won’t be out for long and as much as it pains me to run from nymphs, I can’t promise they won’t lead you to your doom again.

Grant shook his head, flinging the foam from his mouth and started walking towards his land. The crazy female on his back started singing Home on the Range at the top of her lungs. She wasn’t heavy, but he’d never had a woman riding his back...not in bull form anyway. They usually preferred to ride his cock, but he had a feeling this woman had no clue he was a minotaur.

Had to be a human woman. A crazy human woman with legs that went straight up to her neck. In spite of his sore nose, he breathed in the warm musk of female and roses. It seemed a strange scent for such a wild woman, but he liked it. He shook his head again. No, he wasn’t messing with any women he didn’t know ever again.

Dude, if you don’t stop throwing your slobber at me, I really will castrate you, she said, her voice filled with menace. Then, she patted his shoulder. It’s okay, Raging Bull, I won’t cut off your balls.

He almost relaxed.

Unless you piss me off. She was quiet a moment, and then started talking again. Those were some crazy bitches, LaMotta. Who knew nymphs could be so bloodthirsty? I mean, I probably just earned myself another year of exile by beating them up, but they were asking for it, weren’t they? You can’t just call another woman fat ass and expect to get away with it. Hell, if Saga had been here, we’d be ankle deep in nymph blood.

Grant lowered his head, trying to make sense of her ramblings. She wasn’t a succubus because although she smelled great, he didn’t feel compelled to bed her. She couldn’t be a shifter because he’d smell her animal on her. She didn’t remind him of the other Veilerian races. He shook his head in thought.

...sucks in the middle of nowhere, she was saying. The woman sure could talk. You play Ain’t Gonna Bump No More (With No Big Fat Woman) one time and you’re exiled from your tribe for a year. Did I know that’s the song Queen Marina was dancing to when she booty-bumped her mate off a cliff? No, I didn’t know that. Did anyone tell me not to play that song? No! They just assumed I knew, she muttered, her hands tightening on his horns. "And really, was it my fault that I hit reply all on that e-mail about Chief Snow and his shady past as an exotic dancer? No. It was an accident! Now I’m away from my tribe with a stupid bull who was being led to his slaughter by big-boobed nymphs."

Grant stopped dead in his tracks. Amazon?

Chapter Three

Izzy dug her heels in again, not hard, just enough to tell the bull to keep going. She was surprised he hadn’t bucked her off the instant she sat on his back. He was the most docile bull she’d ever seen. Stupid, she corrected with a pitying look at his horns. He wasn’t docile. He was too stupid to live. Any other self-respecting beast would’ve gored the nymphs before letting them grab his ring.

She sighed, patting his big, stupid shoulder. Poor thing was probably just a stud that wandered away from his pasture. But then what had the nymphs wanted with him? They weren’t big meat eaters as far as she knew. Not to the point where they’d go out and catch their own steak. Something wasn’t quite right about those nymphs, but she’d think about it later, after she got the bull back to his pasture.

Is this it? she asked the bull, looking around with pleased surprise at the picturesque sight.

The house in the middle of the valley below was straight out of her dreams. One story of solid wood cabin, it was rustic and perfect. Low to the ground, it would be cool in the summer and easy to heat in the winter. Izzy would have expected the barn to be right next to the house for easy access during the winter, but to her surprise it was far away.

She hummed with curiosity. If it had been her land, she would have done the same simply so no one could sneak up on her. Buildings gave enemies cover to hide behind, so moving all structures further away and making the land around your house completely open provided them with nowhere to take cover.

The bull shook his head again, drawing her attention. Oh, sorry. You probably want to go on home now, she murmured, her eyes still on that land.

She’d never cared about owning land or her own home. Living with her tribe had been enough for her, but seeing how the Blood Maidens were her eighth tribe in fifty years...yeah, she wasn’t having much luck with the tribal living thing.

She sighed as she slid off the bull’s back. She was glad he wasn’t dead, even if he was the dumbest animal she’d ever seen. Slapping him on the hip, she said, Go on home, stupid, and the next time some sweet-talking nymph comes around maybe you’ll stay away from her.

With one last look at the house, Izzy turned and headed back the way they’d come. Maybe she’d look into property in the area. Maybe it was time to finally go it alone. Maybe Wyoming wasn’t so bad after all.

GRANT WATCHED THE AMAZON walk away and nearly swallowed his tongue. She had no idea she was being observed by a shifter, so there was no reason for her to walk like that. His heart thudded in his chest. If he had to put music to that walk, it would go something like, boom-chicka-boom-chicka-boom. Her hips rolled and her round ass twitched with every step. Without conscious thought, he shifted back to his human shape.

Her scent clung to him like a bur, enveloping him in musky rose. His cock went from soft to hard. He wanted that ass. In his human form, the woman was just a few inches shorter than he, which was impressive for a female. Her ponytail bounced with her every step. Her Mae West figure belied her strength, which only made her that much more attractive to him.

Grant padded after her, impervious to the snow under his bare feet. Her body sent out a mating call, and he definitely planned to answer it. Gods, he was pathetic, he thought as he let his dick point him in her direction. He’d just escaped from a bad situation with this woman’s help and here he was letting his libido lead him astray again.

I think there’s a law somewhere about carrying concealed weapons, her husky voice said from the shadows of a tree. He saw the glint of metal and knew she’d pulled a knife.

He raised his hands in surrender, granting her a smile. I’m unarmed.

Uh-huh. She pointed at his cock with her knife. And what do you call that?

He looked down and up again. Mr. Longfellow? he said helpfully.

She snorted back a laugh, her head tilting back in surprise. So you aren’t dumb.

Grant frowned mightily, feeling anger uncoil in his chest. Of course I’m not dumb.

Then why did you let a group of nymphs lead you around by your nose?

Feeling vulnerable standing naked in front of her, Grant crossed his arms over his chest. She acted as though she wasn’t impressed by what she saw, but he knew that had to be an act. Women were always in awe of him and his cock. Always.

We were going to have ourselves a little party, he shot back with a smile.

She took a step forward, coming into the light. Grant swallowed hard. She wasn’t beautiful. Very girl-next-door with large brown eyes, an upturned nose, and full lips, she looked like she should be doing someone’s homework instead of carrying weapons around and kicking ass. Her gaze drifted over his chest which he couldn’t help but puff out for her perusal. When her eyes settled on his cock, Grant felt it swell.

Jeez, she said with a sad sigh. You really are dumb.

Incensed, he took a step closer. The hell I am!

She waved her knife at him. Dude, didn’t it occur to you that nymphs can only have one lover, ever? Why would six women want to have sex with the same male when they’d have to share him for the rest of their lives if he even stuck around?

Oh. Grant scratched the side of his nose. Shit, she was right. He hadn’t thought about that. Of course, all the blood had left his brain when the redhead grabbed his cock through his jeans. He said nothing though. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she was right.

She smirked, her full lips pulling to the side. It’s okay, you have testosterone poisoning. She cocked her head to the side. So why did you let me ride your back?

When her lips formed the words ride your, his brain instantly tagged cock on the end of it. His body didn’t feel like his own and it was all because of her ass. He’d watched it walk away from him and became spellbound. Hell, he might even be in love with it. He wanted to bite it, wanted to mount and fuck her like the raging bull she’d called him. Sweat broke out along his hairline in spite of the frigid temperatures. He was probably steaming.

He shrugged. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Because he was an idiot. What do you think those nymphs wanted?

It was her turn to shrug. Maybe you stepped on their flowers, or dropped a cow patty in their territory. No telling with those crazy bitches.

Grant almost snorted. She had a lot of nerve calling other women crazy.

What are you doing out here?

Her smile disappeared and her lips compressed into a tight line. I don’t want to talk about it. I have to go. She spun around and stomped away. It was nice saving you, Raging Bull. Next time, though, your balls are mine!

She was gone in seconds, leaving Grant alone with an erection the size of a baseball bat. Dammit. He stomped to his house, entering through the secret door that led directly to his bedroom. He needed sex and he needed to know who she was and when he would see her again. More importantly, he needed to know what her favorite position was, because he was going to keep her in it for hours.

IZZY STORMED BACK TO the Black Dog Camp, not surprised to see the nymphs long gone. The idiotic minotaur deserved to be castrated, she grumbled as she glared at the lipstick smeared all over her SUV. Her hands fisted. She was going to kill them. Slowly.

Snarling, she climbed inside and settled in the backseat. She huddled in her blanket, pouting at the darkness. She hadn’t suspected the bull of being a minotaur, not once. Either she was slacking, or she’d been too distracted by her exile to pay attention. If she’d been on her game, then she might’ve realized there was something off about him. Instead, she’d been downright surprised by him, and she hated surprises.

When she’d heard a footstep behind her and whirled around to see a massive man with a small gold ring in his septum, she’d known.

Long blond hair had cascaded over his big shoulders, and dark blue eyes had gleamed at her in the darkness. He’d stood in the full moonlight, so she had plenty of opportunity to ogle him without him knowing.