Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae 1)

She rolled out of bed and stood with all the energy of a zombie that had been blasted in the chest with a shotgun. Wait…were there zombies?

Trudging out, she heard the TV blaring in the front room.

Devon sat on the leather couch with his feet propped on the coffee table next to a steaming cup of coffee. He flicked his phone with his right thumb while pointing the remote at the TV with his left hand.

“Multitasking, huh?” she asked, flopping down in a recliner at the far end of the room.

He didn’t answer.

“So…how often do you work?” Charity asked.

“Until the job’s done.”

“But you have time for school?”

“Yes. So does Andy, who isn’t nearly as smart as you.” He dropped his phone, changed a channel randomly, and focused on her. His eyes were intense and businesslike. “Roger makes sure we balance school and our duty. It’s in the pack’s best interest for us to graduate. It’ll provide the organization as a whole with great skills and connections within the Brink. Sometimes it can be…stressful, but it’s still doable.”

“What’s the pay scale like?”

“It depends on rank and involvement. Since you’re…an exceptional case, I’m not sure. What’re you making now?”

“Minimum wage, fifteen hours a week.”

Devon’s jaw dropped at the same time as the remote. “And you wonder why you don’t have any money. Why didn’t you get a real job?”

Charity could feel her body stiffening defensively. “I don’t have any prior experience. Or interview clothes.”

“Hell, a fast food chain would’ve paid better. Anyway, you’ll make a lot more than that, I can assure you. With insurance.”

“Which I’ll probably need.”

Devon leveled his gaze on her. “I would like to say you won’t, and that I will make sure you’re safe, but in our life, there are no guarantees.”

Charity waved him away. She’d never had any guarantees.

She chewed her lip—she did really hate that admin job. And being poor. She hated being broke all the time.

What was a little danger, really? She’d be with a pack of wolves, not alone like last time. She’d have experienced people to help her. Besides, if those creatures were still looking for her, she’d be sucked back into this mess anyway. She might as well get paid for it. And with a trial period, like Devon said, she could get out of it if she wanted to.

Why is this decision so easy to make? That can’t bode well. Nothing in my life comes easily.

“Do you have a house phone?” she asked, not wanting to think any more on the subject. She’d just talk herself out of it.

Confusion crossed his face. “Why would I need a house phone?”

“To make calls, genius.”

He held up his cell phone. “That’s what this is for, genius.”

“Fine. Can I use it?”

His stupid jaw dropped again. “You don’t have a cell phone?”

“You know, this is why hanging out with rich people is actually kind of nice. They think everyone who isn’t a millionaire is poor. So when they treat me with astonished pity because I don’t have an electronic gadget, it’s a standard affair. But no, I don’t have a cell phone, because I hilariously decided eating and dressing myself was more appropriate. My bad.”

“Jesus, how do you stay upright with that giant chip on your shoulder?”

Charity thrust out her hand. “Can I use your damn phone?”

“Ever heard of pay as you go?” He tossed his phone at her.

“Ever heard of shut up?”

“You owe me dinner, too, remember.” He aggressively raised the remote at the TV, smirking. “I assume that means you’re calling in sick? Or quitting?”

She turned away from him and stared at the picturesque screen of the phone. Tiny squares dotted the image of a cresting wave. While she’d seen an ad or two for these phones, and spied kids in her classes going to town on them, she’d never actually used one. It wasn’t as intuitive as she’d heard others claim.

Devon pushed off the couch and headed toward the kitchen. As he passed, he veered in close and tapped a square with a white telephone on a green background.

Oh yeah. Good clue as to which button she was supposed to tap.

“I would say don’t quit your day job, but I don’t think that would help,” Devon said smugly as he moved out of the room.

“Oh, shut it,” she muttered.

When she called in sick for the day, she also gave her two weeks, and was told that they didn’t really need her to come in anymore. Apparently, the job was only in existence to help kids in need.

She didn’t like the feeling that gave her, though she couldn’t exactly say why.

She headed back to her room and bed, stopping in the kitchen to return Devon’s phone. When she didn’t find him, she glanced in the other rooms, coming up empty until she returned to his bedroom. He lay in the middle of a sea of rumpled, pure white covers. His discarded boxers had been thrown onto the floor.