Adrenaline coursed through Rose’s body, making her jittery and anxious. The farther the car drove from Fionn, the worse it got. Despite all his crazy talk, despite his less than warm, fuzzy manner, there was something about him that drew her.
Something about him that made her feel weirdly safe.
“Šta jebote …” The driver slammed his hand on his wheel, drawing Rose’s regard forward.
His headlights cast a glow across the quiet street, but they flickered frantically while his radio whipped through the channels.
“Glupi auto!” the driver growled, hitting the wheel again. “Ne treba mi ovo sranje!”
From the little Croatian Rose had picked up over the last few months, he was cursing his stupid car.
Yet, she realized, it wasn’t the car’s fault it was malfunctioning.
It was hers.
“Calm down, Rose,” she reassured herself, drawing in a deep breath. Calm. Calm. You’re okay. You’re safe.
Almost immediately, the driver’s headlights stopped flickering and the radio stuck to one station. The driver grumbled something unintelligible, and Rose tried to relax against the back seat.
The driver stopped outside her apartment. Once she’d paid and bolted from the car, the calm she’d been holding on to started to slip again. Mostly because in her frantic desire to get into her apartment, she pushed at the building’s front door as she fumbled for her keys and she burst it open. Lock and all.
Rose gaped at the heavy door as it swung back to her, splintered wood sticking out of it near the locking mechanism.
Holy shit.
Even though it was still the early hours of the morning, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was around to have seen that. Relieved she was alone, she hurried upstairs to her apartment, wishing she was already inside, and suddenly, the world blurred past her.
She was speeding.
Like Supergirl.
The realization made her falter, bringing her out of warp speed and causing her to slam against her apartment door.
Rose stumbled and stared toward the staircase.
She’d just blasted up three flights of stairs in seconds.
“Okay, that was weird,” she huffed, looking down at her legs. A small, slightly hysterical smile curled her lips. “And fucking cool.”
When Rose wanted a cup of tea and the kettle flew across the room at her head, that was less cool.
Her neighbor pounded on the wall seconds after the kettle smashed into pieces against it, leaving cracks in the plaster.
When she decided she wanted a shower and found herself in her bathtub in the blink of an eye, just like how Fionn had moved in the hotel room, Rose started to freak a little.
If she couldn’t control these powers, she’d give herself away.
What if Fionn hadn’t been lying? What if there were people, beings, out there who wanted to use her? To kill her?
Shaking, Rose slumped down in the tub.
Her whole life she’d felt like there was something missing. As a kid, she’d had this unnatural drive to succeed at gymnastics because the competitive sport gave her focus away from this strange feeling that had followed her around since before she could remember.
When her parents sat her down at sixteen and revealed they’d adopted her, Rose thought that was why she’d felt lost her whole life. Like there was a piece of her out there and she’d never feel complete without it. But to discover her birth mom was the aunt she’d thought had died in a car crash before she was born, along with her birth father, Rose knew she’d never find that piece. It was gone. Her adoptive mom, Anna, had told her there was no family left in Ireland. Anna’s parents died when she was young, and her sister was all she’d had.
Tragic for Anna.
Tragic for Rose.
It didn’t take a psychologist to realize that the reason Rose wandered was because she was still searching. And she’d been happy to wander.
Yet, now, sitting in the bathtub, scared but exhilarated by the possibilities before her, that ache inside her, the feeling she’d attributed to her missing piece … it was gone.
The ache was gone.
Rose pressed a hand over her heart.
It was the spell. All this time it was the spell that had made her feel incomplete.
Without access to her powers, she’d felt incomplete.
Did her mom know? Anna. Did she know? Or was this something her birth mother had done to her? So many questions … but who could she really trust?
Fionn’s face drifted into her mind and her pulse raced.
What was it about that guy?
She frowned. He wasn’t just a guy … and yet he’d told her he’d once been human. How had he become what he was? And was he—was she—really one of the fae?
It was something out of a fairy tale, right?
On the back of that thought, Rose decided she might as well shower and start the day because there was no way she could sleep after all this.
A squeak made her heart falter seconds before a stream of cold water hit her on the head.
“Argh! Fuck, fuck!” She dove out of the tub, shuddering as she glared at her showerhead. It had come on at the mere thought of taking a shower. Rose whipped off her shirt and grabbed a towel, wiping away the freezing-cold droplets on her skin and scrunching her wet hair.
“Okay.” She snarled at the shower. “Maybe it’s not a fairy tale after all.”
Rose decided it was safer to stick to her apartment for the day until she’d figured out her next move. Unfortunately, privacy wasn’t on the menu. About two hours after she’d gotten home, the building had come to life with people leaving their apartments for work. The smells from the bakery downstairs were even stronger to Rose’s heightened senses than before. But unlike normal, Rose wasn’t hungry.
She felt too distracted to be hungry.
Rose sat staring blankly at the television, wondering if she should call her mom or use the business card Fionn had slipped into her hand.
It should have been easy. She should have been able to trust her mother over a stranger.
And yet, if her mom had something to do with this spell, then she’d been lying to Rose her whole life.
Another lie.
It was on this distressing thought her apartment door juddered under a pounding knock.
She sighed heavily. The only person who knocked on her door like that was the landlord, Craig. He was a Scot. And not one of the nice ones.
What the hell did he want?
Every time he paid a visit, he swept over the place, stating he was just looking to make sure there was no damage. He liked to intimidate people. Rose wasn’t easily intimidated, and she knew it bothered him so he was extra smarmy with her.
With the way her newfound abilities were making themselves known whenever she had a mere thought, Rose didn’t want to open the door.
“Open up!” Craig yelled.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Rose crossed the small apartment and unlocked the door. Before she could fully open it, the bastard pushed inside. At around five foot eight, Craig wasn’t a tall guy, but he was overmuscled by gym visits. And probably ster
oids, Rose thought uncharitably. But she wouldn’t put it past him.
He cut her a dark look as he shoved into the apartment, his gaze going straight to the wall.
Oh shit.
She’d totally forgotten about the kettle and the plaster.
“I got a call from your neighbor that there was a disturbance.” Craig gestured to the wall. He turned to glare at her. “What the fuck?”
“Your concern is touching. Really.” She gave him a dry smirk because they both knew he couldn’t give a crap about her. He just wanted to keep his damn deposit.
He scowled as he approached her. Rose braced.
“You”—he stuck his finger in her face—“are not getting your deposit back, and if one more thing happens like this, I’m evicting your arse.”
Feeling her anger simmer, Rose noticed her lights flickering.
No, no, no.
“I’d appreciate it,” she said through gritted teeth, “if you got your finger out of my face. I’ll pay the damages. But I’d like you to leave. Please.” She stepped back, opening the door.
Craig crossed his arms over his chest, glee glimmering in his eyes.
He thought he’d broken through. He thought she was afraid of him.
If only he knew she was afraid for him.
“What happened?” he gestured to the wall.
Rose clambered for a lie. “A … a guy I was seeing. We argued. He did that. I threw him out. He won’t be back.”
She’d barely finished the lie when her landlord started moving toward her again. Rose tensed against the opened door.
At five six, with a slender, athletic build, Rose was dainty compared to this guy, and he wanted to make her as aware of that as possible. He stood so close, she could feel his breath on her face.
“Say the word, Rose,” he said, touching a finger to her cheek, “and I’ll protect you from arseholes like that. I might even cover the repair work on the wall, depending how good you are.”
Revulsion roiled in her gut.
Every time he paid a visit, the slug propositioned her, and every time he got a little more forceful about it. What was it about her that attracted this kind of attention? It wasn’t as though she was some stunning, sexy bombshell. Was it the faerie thing? Were guys attracted to her because of magic?