Faery Godlover

“That is a strange thing to ask,” he said slowly. “Why wouldn’t he want you?”

Jasmine swallowed hard, unsure of how to answer. She half-expected him to burst into cruel laughter and say he was kidding, that there were a million reasons why a handsome man wouldn’t want to date her. But he didn’t. She parked her car in an empty spot out front of her apartment building and sat quietly for a long moment. The tension in the air sparked until Duada broke it with his next statement.

“Tonight, then. I’ll have him pick you up in an hour.”

She got the sense there was no point in arguing with him. Besides, if his little shows of power had done one thing, it was to convince her that Duada was not someone to be messed with. Sure, nothing he’d done so far had really frightened her all that much, but she knew that it was probably better not to push him and find out just how far his powers could reach.

He followed her up to her tiny studio apartment; wrinkling his nose when he saw how shabbily she lived. She’d done her very best to decorate the little place and make it feel more like home, but she spent most of her time at work, and it showed.

Jasmine went directly to her closet and started rifling through outfits, trying to find something that would suit a date with an exceptionally hot man out of her league. As usual, she was disappointed.

“I-I don’t really know what to wear,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks burn. Duada instantly appeared at her side, appraising her limited wardrobe with judgmental eyes.

“This is an unfortunate array of options,” he agreed, gingerly picking through the few sundresses hanging in front of them. “But one of these should do in a pinch.”

“I haven’t worn any of those in ages,” she said, shaking her head.

“Just put it on.”

“What—why?”

“I’ll fix it,” Duada told her emphatically.

Still frowning at him, she shooed him out and slipped into a skimpy yellow sundress she had bought years ago. It fell just barely to mid-thigh and accentuated her curves, but she worried it still didn’t quite fit the bill.

“Let me in,” came the fae’s voice at the door.

Jasmine reluctantly opened it and he snapped his fingers, making the hemline ever so slightly longer and the bust line lower, revealing more of her ample cleavage. Jasmine gasped.

“How the hell…?”

She looked up to meet his eyes and he winked. “Are you catching on yet?” he asked brightly, looking proud of himself. He seemed to take an exquisite pleasure in showing off, but she had to admit—his help was desperately needed.

“Thank you,” she said genuinely, her voice softening. “I still don’t really know why you’re doing this, but thanks.”

His impish, thousand-watt grin faded and he suddenly looked serious for a moment, his impossible violet eyes surveying her with an almost human flash of approval. No, more like desire. But that couldn’t be right, could it? She had to be misreading him. After all, if he really was a faery, there was no way he could possibly find a dull, sarcastic, human woman attractive.

He handed her a stylish spring coat that he seemed conjure out of nowhere. “It’s going to rain tonight. Light drizzle, at most, but I don’t want you to get wet.”

The coat still had a tag and her eyes widened when she saw the price. Twelve hundred dollars. “You bought this for me?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s no big deal.”

“Thank you.” She put it on. It fit her like a dream.

“Are you ready?” he asked, folding his arms across his broad chest.

Jasmine looked up at him, her eyes roving over his enormous frame. So much for faeries being tiny. This guy had to be at least six-foot-three. Jasmine nodded, gulping back her anxiety. “So, tell me more about this guy.”

Duada’s eyes flitted to the window and he shook his head. “No time. He’s here.”

He grabbed her by the wrist and all but dragged her to the front door where Jasmine stood nervously. A firm knock startled her and she jumped. Duada urged her with his eyes to answer it, and she did, pulling the door open to reveal the tall, impeccably dressed man before her. He gave her a smile and she nearly swooned. The guy didn’t appear to even notice Duada standing there as he introduced himself and took Jasmine’s hand.

”My name is Hayden,” he said, his voice deep and authoritative. “Hayden Rothford the third.”

Jasmine gawked for a moment. She had never met any man with a number attached on their name like some kind of British lord. “I’m J-Jasmine. Hello.”

His gaze raked over her before a beaming smile spread over his handsome face. “You’re much lovelier in person. Your photo doesn’t do you justice.”