Warrior Fae Princess (Warrior Fae 2)

He’d seen Charity’s super-comfortable house two days ago, and she’d certainly had a bedframe. Of course, she lived in what was clearly the nice part of town. Since then, he’d barely seen her. The Arcana were keeping her incredibly busy, giving her etiquette tutoring, fighting training, and now monitoring her every move regarding this cooking thing. Without coming out and saying it, they had impressed upon Charity the severity of her failing, which Devon said was only part of what was playing hell on Charity’s nerves. The other part she apparently shrugged off whenever he asked. It was anyone’s guess what that could be. Something else was bothering her, though; Devon said that much was clear. Something about this setup, or her status, or these people wasn’t jibing with her, but damned if she’d say what. It was annoying Devon something awful, and annoying the pack in turn, since it put Devon in a terrible mood.

“Visitors don’t need to have digs as nice as Charity’s, but a bedframe would be nice,” Andy said.

This place was getting to him. The formality and underlying hostility drove him nuts. He’d even stopped seeing the fae girls. Apparently, screwing a shifter was some sort of sexual taboo. Even if he had a great night with one of them, the next day she acted like she’d never seen him before. It was screwed up.

Something was definitely up with these people. They were cool and normal when it was one on one, or on the battle yard, but within that village, no go. It was like someone had spray-painted has a contagious disease on all the shifters and none of the fae wanted to catch it.

“I don’t think they like visitors,” Macy said, standing next to Rod in the communal kitchen, watching him chop something resembling a carrot on steroids. Sorrow lined her features and bent her body. They’d all taken Dillon’s passing hard, but Macy had been hit the hardest. She spent a lot of time by herself lately, walking around the village with Penny and Emery, or beating heads on the “battlefield.”

Thankfully, after the fae boys heard of her connection to Dillon, they left her alone. Well, unless they wanted to incite her rage. And some of them did. Those usually ended up with the healer. The onlookers had smiles as the douche was carried away.

“That’s an understatement,” Rod said to Macy. “Has Devon said how long we’re staying?”

“He’s not leaving without Charity,” Yasmine said from beside the window. She was the only woman who’d partaken in the fae boys. Her interest had lasted exactly one day. She’d figured out early on why they wanted her, and it wasn’t for her beauty. Turned out, she didn’t like being a taboo conquest any more than Andy did.

She’d called Andy an idiot for taking so long to realize it.

“Are you saying he’s going to stay?” Macy asked. Any hint of hostility she might’ve felt toward Yasmine had completely dried up. Yasmine had been Macy’s shoulder to cry on most nights. Andy had tried to help—so had Rod—but something about a crying woman heaving against him made Andy get a hard-on, and that got awkward real quick, because this place’s stupid pants and loose underwear showed everything off. Not everyone was as confident as Steve.

“Charity is going to ace that cooking thing, and then they’ll welcome her in,” Rod said. “These people can’t cook for shit. As soon as she gets the green light, she’ll want to stay. Bet you anything.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Yasmine asked. “She’s royalty. Real, honest-to-God royalty. Have you seen how the people treat her? They love her. They fawn all over her, halvsie or not. But Devon would never get the grandmother’s approval. Hallen is Charity’s intended match—”

The door swung open, admitting a tired Penny, followed by an aloof Emery. If it bothered Emery to be largely ignored by the fae, he’d never let on. Andy almost wondered if he preferred it.

“What do you mean, Hallen is Charity’s intended match?” Macy asked, turning to face Yasmine. Rod stood between them.

“Oh yes, I heard that just today,” Penny said, dropping a pile of rocks on the very little surface space this place had.

“Do you mind?” Andy asked, pointing. “This is my tiny cabin. Keep your rocks in your own tiny cabin.”

“They’re power stones. All of them!” Penny beamed at them. “They basically shouted to me from across that field with all the people fighting. I’ll tell you something, Reagan would give her left arm to stroll through this place. She’d be tickled by their attempts to ignore her. She’d bring the battlefield to the center of their serenity circle, or whatever it is they do in the center green.”

“We need to put that on our bucket list,” Emery said. “Invite Reagan to the Flush to raise hell.”