Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae 1)

A pity they had to wait until the changing process was underway, but Devon knew his limitations. He couldn’t take on the elder without Roger. Even Roger would be hard-pressed to take on Vlad with his last-minute, thrown-together team. They had to wait until the vamps were at their weakest. Besides which, making new vampires was a crime, but hosting a party was not. They had to catch Vlad in the act.

He checked his phone for the umpteenth time. No service. They’d have no way of communicating with Roger. Vlad had found a perfect spot to turn new vamps. No cell service, a long private drive attached to a one-way road, no neighbors for miles. He was trapping his victims until they became his allies.

Devon’s mind drifted back to that gal. Soon she’d be cut off, too. She’d be trapped in a house with a host of hungry vampires.Chapter FiveSamantha’s dainty fingers curled around an ornate knocker resting on the wide double door. Apparently the invitation had said to use the knocker rather than the doorbell.

“I have to say, despite the remote location, this house is pretty sweet,” Charity whispered, breathing in the fresh floral scent from the many flowers lining the walkway behind them. She rubbed her arms, trying to shake off the strange tingling that had started once they passed through the perimeter gates. It had only gotten worse as they approached the house. “Feels a bit creepy, though, doesn’t it?”

“Shh. Don’t embarrass me.” Sam banged the knocker against the solid wood.

“You’re using a gargoyle door knocker on a state-of-the-art, modern house, and you’re worried about me embarrassing you?”

Samantha banged the knocker a second time before stepping away and fussing with the hem of her dress. It wasn’t going to get any lower.

Metal tinkled before the door swung open, revealing a young man in his twenties with a pale, handsome face and a flawless complexion. His acute gaze hit Samantha first, then stalled on Charity.

“You smell ravishing,” he said, hunger lighting his eyes.

Charity frowned. She hadn’t put on any perfume, mostly because she didn’t own any, and she hadn’t showered since morning. She had no idea what this guy might be smelling on her, especially since Sam smelled like a perfume factory after an earthquake. Surely one whiff of Sam would deaden his senses.

“Thanks,” she said in a doubtful tone.

“Please.” He stepped to the side and swung his arm toward the interior. “Come in.”

“Thank you.” Samantha gave the man a winning smile and brushed her hair to her back as she passed him, her shiny blonde tresses adding movement to her slow saunter. He didn’t notice.

“Your house is absolutely lovely.” Sam half turned back, her eyes glittering suggestively. “I’m Samantha, by the way. You can call me Sam.”

“I know.” He closed the door, and his dark eyes lingered on Charity. “This isn’t my house. I am but the greeter. Did you find us okay?” He waved them forward.

“Oh.” A small frown bent Sam’s features as the group crossed the grand entranceway and started down a wide hallway decked out in wood and marble, with vaulted ceilings and interesting abstract paintings adorning the light gray walls. “We did, yes.”

Off to the left, a sitting room opened up. A woman stood in the center, wearing a long leather duster over a ribbed black and red lacy corset. Tight leather pants tucked into leather boots with four-inch stilettos. Her outfit was as sexy as it was strange, and she looked like an absolute badass, even though she wouldn’t be running very fast in those shoes. Then again, given Charity was teetering around like a clown on stilts, she wouldn’t go very fast, either. If the zombie apocalypse happened later on, they were sunk.

The woman’s head turned slowly from the window she’d been focused on, revealing an angelic face with flawless, radiant skin not unlike that of their still-unnamed greeter. The woman’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Welcome,” she said in a sultry, feminine hum. Tingles of apprehension filtered through Charity. There was something familiar about her tone. The pleasing quality of the word.

Charity shivered. Murmurs drifted out of a room up the way, and light spilled across the shiny hardwood floor.

“Follow me,” the man said, before darting around them, his movements faster than they should’ve been, considering his previous pace. More shivers arrested Charity as her mind flashed back to the man she’d noticed at school the previous night. His speed. His fighter’s grace and balance.

“What is wrong with you?” Samantha said out of the side of her mouth. “Stop rubbing yourself. It’s not cold in here.”

Charity took her hands off her arms as the man turned the corner into a large dining room with a crystal chandelier hanging over a dark wood table that could comfortably seat at least twelve. China and crystal peeked out of cabinets against the wall, and a leafy plant on a pedestal in the corner gave the space a comforting splash of green.