Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae 1)

Chapter Six“I… I…” she heard herself say, a world away.

“I… I…” she tried again, somehow not able to form any sort of coherent thought.

“Maybe you would like some more punch? I see you have spilled yours. Such a travesty. Here, let me assist you, if I may…” His voice set her heart to hammering. Warning tingles spread across her skin, like fire ants biting down. The contrast didn’t make sense. The way he’d singled her out didn’t make sense.

She fell into his entrancing stare as the crystal goblet disappeared from her hand. Her arm dropped, suddenly bereft of strength, to hang limp at her side. His sweltering gaze left hers as he walked toward the island and punch bowl, unnaturally slow.

“Maybe just one,” she murmured, fighting the impulse to hurry after him. She didn’t want to let him get too far away. She needed to be with him in a way she’d never needed anything in her life.

She watched in ravenous fascination as his muscular arm, sleek and delicious, spooned some punch into her glass. He turned toward her, a smile flirting with his mouth-watering lips, so extremely kissable and inviting.

Suddenly he was right next to her, as though time had skipped a beat. As though he’d teleported.

She shook her groggy head, dizzied with lust. “How did…?” Her words drifted away as the goblet was gently placed into her hand. Such a gentleman, this man. Such a handsome, suave gentlemen.

They don’t make them like this anymore.

Numb fingers wrapped around the chilled crystal. A stranger’s fingers. Rough and clumsy compared with that delicate touch wrapped around her wrist, sending waves of sensation through her body.

“Drink—it is delicious,” he said.

“What’s in it?” she asked, looking down at the liquid, suddenly parched.

His laugh melted her panties. “Why, unicorn blood, of course.”

She chuckled at his joke, contemplating alcohol for the first time in her life. Really contemplating it. What harm would one drink do? He’d gone to the trouble of getting it for her, after all.

The itch across her skin grew stronger, turning violent. A strange, musky smell tickled her nose, somehow detracting from the beauty of the man. Pricks of pain spread out from where his hand touched her skin—a sharp contrast to the raging lust. A warning pulsed in her brain, combating the searing heat of his proximity.

“Drink,” he whispered, his breath rustling her hair.

She groaned, needing his touch. The pain intensified, begging her to step away. Her hand rose to her mouth, in someone else’s control.

“But I don’t…” The goblet brushed her lips. Her gaze dipped down, to the pink liquid inching up the crystal interior. Memories of Walt, the man she refused to call her father, flashed through her mind. Fear somersaulted her stomach.

She took a step back and forced the goblet away.

She didn’t drink. That wasn’t about to change because of a pretty creep with a penchant for peer-pressuring strangers.

“Where are you going?” he asked. “I wish to get more closely acquainted. I am in rapture. You are exquisite.”

She ripped her gaze away from his mouth. A blast of cold air assaulted her, hitting the sheen of sweat coating her body and flash-freezing her. Logic rushed in and stole her breath. It was as if she’d awoken from a weird haze. She couldn’t remember the stolen minutes properly, but she did know one thing: she’d wanted to have sex with a complete stranger. Really nasty sex. The kind you didn’t tell people about.

Acting on the siren blaring at the back of her head, she about-faced without a word and haphazardly stalked across the room and out through the sliding glass door. She’d always been a little antisocial, but…well, that guy was weird. Her reaction to him was weird.

And what was he, thirty? What was he doing messing around with an almost twenty-year-old?

She dumped the contents of her goblet on the grass outside. “I’ve been to some parties with pushers, but that guy was ridiculous.”

“What’s that?”

Charity froze. Donnie!

He lounged against the wall looking all hot and trendy. Butterflies filled her stomach.

“Oh. Nothing.” Charity pushed her hair away from her face. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he replied, and glanced off toward the yard, where the still waters of a large pool glowed from within. He could play cool in his sleep.

Charity nodded with her whole body like the dweeb Sam called her and tried to tuck a thumb through a belt loop. Her hand went skittering off her hip.

She didn’t have a belt loop.

Grabbing for something, anything to talk about, she said, “So pretty, ah, good party, right? Nice house.”

Donnie shrugged, watching a woman peel off her clothes and jump into the pool. His words were drowned out by the splash and ensuing shriek of laughter. Her friend stood watching her, clearly on the fence about joining. The alcohol was working harder on one than the other.