Chapter Thirteen
The next few days went by without incident. Radley stayed away from Cricket when they weren’t practicing with the Mercedes, determined to block her from his mind. No matter what he did, no matter that he was avoiding her like the plague, the bright fae still found ways to trickle into his mind. Anything that was the color pink reminded him of her wings. Any pinch of glitter or sparkle reminded him of the way her fairy dust tasted. Those working around her home treated her warmly, reminding him that he was probably wrong about her, but he was too stubborn to admit so. She was still a Snapdragon, despite it all. She was still the enemy.
Of course, practice was going just a horribly as it had the first time. Though they had both decided that Cricket was the better driver between them, they were so far out of sync when it came to working together, he wasn’t sure if they would ever come together as a team to win. Either way, as long as he survived, he supposed he won in this situation. Cricket hadn’t revealed why she was so desperate to risk her life in the Games and the more he thought about it, the less answers he had. She had money and influence. She would have no end to the number of connections she likely had. Why drive in the games? What other motivation could she possible want?
The bright fae sat across from him at a large carved desk, her eyes on the papers spread out across it. Radley, in turn, sat as far away as possible without being insulting. The banter had sort of trickled out since they’d fought and she’d sprinkled him with fairy dust. He’d never admit he stroked himself to completion three times that night before he’d succumbed to sleep. He certainly wouldn’t admit that he did it again when he woke up the next morning, long after the effects should have worn off. He was playing a dangerous game, thinking of the pretty fae in such a vulnerable time.
Radley’s eyes trailed over the shape of her jawline, her lips, as she pursed them at the paperwork. She was studying the schematics for the Ferrari hard, running over all the modifications the mechanic shop had already started on, but apparently, more needed to be approved. The amount of money put into the car made his stomach flip, but he understood the need. Cars without modifications didn’t win the Games. It kept out those who couldn’t quite afford to race. Sometimes, it didn’t, and they died attempting to compete against those with money.
While Cricket touched the schematics, Radley’s body became more tense with each passing moment. The way she was leaning over the desk, the way her hair fell around her shoulders, inviting him close, he was struggling. She was like a poison dart frog, all colorful. It drew him in even knowing it should repel him before she poisoned him. Still, he couldn’t help narrowing his eyes on her as if it were her own fault that she affected him so despite her doing nothing more than remaining all business.
“Should we go with bigger guns?” Cricket said suddenly, her eyes dancing up to take in his tension. She didn’t comment on it, just as she didn’t comment on the awkwardness between them since the fairy dust incident. “I’ve already insisted on the fae tools but those hardly work against all species. I’ve bottled plenty of my magic for the engine and included a system for launching things behind us. I likely won’t be able to use my magic while driving, so we can’t count on that.”
It was smart, Radley thought, to plan for attacks from behind. Most weapons were directed forward to take out those ahead of you, but with her name, there would likely be someone after them from behind once it was found out. He wasn’t stupid. Being a Snapdragon probably came with threats. It was strange her father allowed her to go anywhere without protection at all.
When Radley didn’t speak, too lost in his thoughts to voice them out loud, Cricket took it as him not liking the direction of her talk.
“I know you prefer more aggressive weapons. Should we ask for the grenades? It all adds more weight to the car but since there’s only two of us, maybe we can afford the slight weight.”
They could afford the weight. With how slight Cricket was, they likely wouldn’t add too much weight at all. The Ferrari would fly whether they added grenades and bigger guns or not. But Radley couldn’t think of that. Instead, he was so focused on the way Cricket’s wings twitched in agitation at his silence, he couldn’t form words. He wasn’t trying to be an asshole. He just couldn’t focus passed the visions crossing his mind, ones he certainly shouldn’t be having.
“Radley?” Cricket leaned back in her chair, watching him warily. Did she expect him to explode? Was she thinking he was angry? When he still didn’t answer, she threw up her hands. “Oh, for fate’s sake! What the fuck is your problem? We have to figure this out so the car will be finished in time!”
When she threw up her hands, her breasts lifted with the movement, drawing his eyes to the small thread of cleavage peeking over the top. Fuck, he was losing his mind.
“I said, what is your problem?” she grunted, slapping the top of the desk, making the pens in the cup rattle.
Radley’s eyes met hers and locked, and something in him turned predatory. He was a wolf. The wilderness lived in his veins, the savageness, the wild. It was all there beneath the surface, fighting against human etiquette. Her words brought it all forth and he found himself no longer holding himself back.
“My problem?” he said, his voice low and threatening. “What’s my problem?” Standing, Radley moved around the desk, his body rolling with the power that ran in his blood. The urge to claim hit hard but he bit back on that. He couldn’t claim the Snapdragon Heiress, not fully, but he could certainly make her wish he would.
Cricket’s wings fluttered anxiously at his approach before she turned the chair and stood, putting herself more at his level though she stood inches below him. Clever fairy. She could sense his threat, but she wasn’t sure how to protect herself.
He stepped into her personal space. Her legs pushed the chair further away in her hesitant step backward, leaving the area open. Moving to face the desk, the fae turned with him, refusing to give him anything other than her front, putting her exactly where he wanted her. The backs of her thighs touched the desk, threatening the schematics spread atop it.
“What are you doing?” she breathed, staring up into his eyes. She had the prettiest eyes, crystalline blue, the color so unlike the ice of her father’s. Where his eyes were cold, Cricket’s held all the life and magic within them that you’d expect from a fae. Instead, it was far more rare to see magic there than the chill of inhumanity.
Radley leaned forward, caging her in with his arms. Her wings were arched up above the desk to keep them out of the way, muscle control he knew was difficult to pull off. It was easy to think the fae were delicate creatures. Their pointed ears, the pretty sparkly wings, their penchant for shiny things, it all added to that illusion. He knew the fae were one of the most blood thirsty species, and yet, here he was, wanting one of them.
“Would you like to know what my problem is?” Radley growled, but it came out sounding more like a purr, his body a live wire of desire. She nodded her head, just barely, as she practically sat on the desk, her ass against the important paperwork. “My problem is that I suddenly can’t get the image of you on your knees before me, those pretty lips wrapped around me, those wings fluttering behind you restlessly.”
Cricket gasped, her pupils dilating. It only made his body tighten more. She liked the image, was thinking of it. She wasn’t pushing him away.
Radley leaned closer and growled, “My problem is that I want to bend you over this desk and make you scream my name rather than talk about grenades and guns.”
“It’s just the dust,” Cricket whispered, her voice husky with desire. She wasn’t unaffected. Most fae would have hidden their desire in this situation. Radley was a threat. Letting down her guard in front of him was dangerous, and yet, it was there shining in her eyes for him to see. He could smell the slickness between her legs, wanted to taste it.
He groaned low in his throat and leaned even closer until his nose was at the crease of her neck. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent, and nearly came undone.
“You and I both know fairy dust only has a temporary effect on wolves, sugar plum. I’m no human.”
Humans could easily succumb to the dust and become “struck”. It was a phenomenon the fae had used as a weapon for centuries, but it didn’t have the same effect on wolves. It was temporary at best, lasting only an hour or less.
“No,” she breathed, her eyes trailing down his chest, where the slight view of tanned skin was revealed. “You’re certainly not human.”
Tilting his head and leaning back, Radley studied her, the column of her throat, the way her chest seemed to rise and fall faster than before with her desire. But something in him wanted to bite, needed to banter, and so he found himself still trying to hurt her. Call him petty, but despite the image she portrayed, she was still her father’s daughter. There was no other true option. She was raised by a monster and monsters made other monsters. “I’d be stupid to fuck the Snapdragon heiress. Definitely something I’ll regret.”