Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae 1)

“It’s weird when he smiles,” Rod murmured to Andy. “It makes me think he’s about ready to attack me.”

“Who, Roger?” Andy asked.

“No—well, him, too, but I meant Devon,” Rod answered.

“He might. Even with Charity to even him out a little, he’s still a moody SOB.”

“You guys—” Charity huffed out more laughter at their absurdity.

“Hey,” Devon said, walking toward them.

“Hey,” she replied, and she knew she had a goofy smile on her face.

“How was your class?” Devon slipped an arm around her shoulders.

They talked about nothing much, keeping it light and easy, as they made their way to the loaner Jeep. Devon’s SUV was still in the shop, the establishment apparently owned by a shifter who wasn’t employed by Roger. He specialized in making up reasons for things like claw marks in the paint.

After Andy and Rod made excuses to get out of dinner that night and parted ways with Charity and Devon, they got in the car and headed home. A moment passed, then Devon cleared his throat.

“Charity, listen,” he said. “What we have… What we’re… I wanted to tell you—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Charity put out her hand. She’d suspected this was coming, what with Roger breathing down their necks, hinting about opening up and throwing around the L-word. Yeah, right, like that hard-ass alpha ever talked about what made him tick. He certainly hadn’t given Devon any advice on how to go about it, because the start of this chat was going as awkwardly as Charity had assumed it would.

This wasn’t any of Roger’s business. It wasn’t anyone’s business. Devon didn’t have any experience with attachments or relationships. He’d rebuilt his whole life after the summons, and he’d done so around the idea of himself as the solitary alpha. Even though that idea might not fit as snugly as it used to, he still had a lot of baggage to unpack. Baggage he had to fold up and put away by himself.

Charity would be damned if she’d hurry him up while he remade the man he was. The process would take time and go through many hiccups. If there were labels slapped on things, and expectations, and hills to climb, it would only take longer. Plus, she had her own issues to sort out.

No, for right now, as she settled into this new life, she liked things exactly as they were. They liked each other, they were dating—they didn’t need any L-word complications. They had enough complications with all the times she randomly went crazy and tried to kill him. Luckily, he just viewed it as exercise.

“Look, here’s my hang-up,” she said, trying not to let the awkwardness of the moment affect her. There was only one thing she did have to insist on. “I’m not much of a player—obviously—and I don’t care for the game. If we’re sleeping with each other, I’d have a hard time with you seeing anyone else.”

A rush of rage and magic swept through her, and she braced against the dash, fighting it into submission. The spicy adrenaline felt so good that she wanted to cry.

Devon chuckled darkly then sobered. “Hey, are you okay? I wouldn’t do that to you, Charity. I’m a dick, but I’m not a complete jackass. I’ve never juggled women. It’s always been one at a time. It just never lasted—”

“Stop,” she said as he pulled into the driveway, clutching her seat and gritting her teeth. Electricity ran along her skin. Light danced before her eyes. “Don’t talk… I need…”

She groped for the door handle and half fell out of the Jeep, staggering toward the trees and taking a big whiff of fresh, forest-rich air. Sometimes it was the only thing that would calm her.

Her magic tore at her, begging to be used. Not able to stand the pressure, she thrust her hands into the sky and let it come.

Sparks and light showered down, brighter than the afternoon sun. Electricity sizzled through the air before it concussed, exploding out toward the trees. Sparks caught in the branches and dried grass. Embers flared. Flames danced.

“Oh God,” she said, euphoric and horrified at the same time. “I’ll burn the whole—”

Shockingly, the flames shrank then died. The smoke curled then cleared away. Her light show dimmed until it faded.

“Oh,” she said, amazingly not weak like she had been after the battle. Still feeling pretty great, actually. Strong. Too powerful. “I guess the magic just…goes away.”

“Nope.”

Only then did Charity notice the small collection of people standing outside of Devon’s house, staring at her. Roger waited among them, standing next to a slouching, pretty brunette who didn’t fool Charity. She might look small and fragile, but Charity didn’t want to be on the wrong end of whatever she could do. Beside her stood a tall, broad man with a curious expression and hard, ruthless eyes. If he’d been walking toward her in her old neighborhood in Chicago, she would’ve ducked into an alley, jumped in a dumpster to hide, and hoped for the best.