Catch, Curse, Release (Immortal Warriors #1) ✅ Completed

Chapter Twelve: Momma Said Knock You Out

“What are you, some kind of medieval pimp?” she couldn’t even bring herself to sound offended, only slightly disgusted. Arguing with Des was an exercise in futility. It only added to the pounding in her skull.  

He laughed and the sound was black silk against her spine but havoc in her brain. Then in a musical voice he sang, “Oh Lori, Lori single goosey, what I’d give were you loosey.” 

Again she wondered what sort of travesty she’d committed to deserve this, “Never in a million years.”

“Never say never baby,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows obscenely, “I don’t mind taking you for a little test drive. You know...make sure all your girly parts still work right.”

“Ewww, get out of my room you letch,” she said, closing her eyes and wishing to be anywhere else; the dentist chair, getting a breast exam, anywhere but inside the same room with him.

“Sorry sweetie, can't do it. We’ve got a competition to win, a heart to conquer, a curse to lift. Tons to do today!”

“No,” she said stubbornly.

Desmond paid her no mind as he snapped his fingers. Instantly she was dressed in a beautiful golden-colored gown made of rich, light fabric that moved freely. The dress was split down the middle for easier walking or riding, and she wore the same soft leather riding boots from yesterday. Her hair was pinned back securely and even her skin felt freshly scrubbed and smelled of soft lilac. 

Jumping out of her chair she looked down at herself in disbelief “Stop doing that! You can’t just keep forcing me to ride your crazy train.” 

“Sure I can,” Des said simply, studying her as if she were a bug, head tilted, a critical look on his face. He didn’t seem satisfied with her new look so he snapped his fingers again and the gown became a deep, royal purple.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. It was like a bad episode of Bewitched, only she was playing the role of the heart-attack-ready-to-happen Darren, not the calm and collected Samantha or even the blissfully ignorant Larry.

"Duh...getting you dressed. Really Lori, you gotta stop with the dumb questions. Eric likes ‘em smart and sharp,” he said, snapping his fingers a few times for emphasis.  

Lori cursed long and loud but Desmond just ignored her and kept working.  

Snap.

The gown became fire engine red. It was also missing most of the top portion where it should’ve covered her well endowed chest but didn’t by a country mile.  

“Absolutely not! This dress will cause a riot up in here,” she croaked.

Snap. Snap. Snap. All Lori could do was stand there fuming as Desmond ran through the whole color spectrum until finally settling on a deep turquoise.

“Perfect,” he said eyes gleaming.

“Uh, no. Not perfect. You can’t expect me to shoot in these clothes,” she said crossing her arms across her chest. He was smoking drugs if he thought she’d handle a bow and arrow in all that fabric. She told him as much. 

“What’d you think? You’d go target practice in Levi’s and cowboy boots. What do you think this is? Tombstone?" he asked rolling his eyes. Sometimes mortals were beyond ludicrous.

“Um, yes you annoying, self-serving little creep.” Lori managed to look even more stubborn, a feat he would’ve thought impossible at this point.  

“Well forget it cupcake, you’re not back in New York. In these parts that sort of thing ain’t gonna fly. Get it?”

Great she thought. First she was stuck in some alternate universe and now she was doomed to wear nothing but uncomfortable dresses for a whole month. Could it possibly get any worse?