Today Tomorrow and Always (Phenomenal Fate 3)

He wanted to go back to the meeting with Tilda and rail at the unfairness of what she was putting her daughter through. Beg the fae to change her mind. How was he going to ferry Mary somewhere potentially unsafe, turn around and leave? Already it was a feat beyond words not to reach across the console and hold her hand. Was the magnetic pull all in his mind? Was his protectiveness pathetic considering she was betrothed? Already he was devoted to her happiness in ways that only a husband should be—and considering he had no choice but to leave her with Hadrian, that could prove detrimental to his sanity.

“Is it true that you work for the new vampire king, Tucker?”

“The one Hadrian wants to overthrow? Yes. I do.”

She wrung her hands. “Are you going to get in trouble for transporting me to Hadrian?”

“You mean because you’re the linchpin in the alliance that could end with us being defeated?” God. She didn’t deserve the shortness in his voice. How could he fault this girl for wanting sight? For wanting to right the perceived wrong she’d done to her mother? “Just leave the worrying to me, Mary,” he added, evenly. “Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

While he’d try not to think of how it would end.

Chapter 5

Mary counted her breaths and waited for Tucker to return to the car.

As they’d been wont to do for the last hour, she reached up and traced the bottom edge of her crown. After their conversation about Mary not being able to subdue her radiance like a normal fae, Tucker had pulled off the highway without warning and gone into a store. It’s a surprise. That was the only explanation he’d offered—and it had turned out to be an understatement.

She was now the proud owner of a child’s light-up crown.

It was electronic and lit up when turned on, projecting—according to Tucker—a glowing carousel of light above her head, thus camouflaging her own luminous pin pricks.

A peculiar clench in Mary’s chest caused her to drop her hand once more.

Of course, according to Tilda, her skin still had a slight glow, but it wasn’t as noticeable as the shimmer over her head. Did this mean, she could go places now? The threat of her scream would never go away, but…shouldn’t Tilda or even herself thought of this before?

Was it the shame of Mary’s impairment that kept them indoors instead?

How could it be anything else when this man she’d known less than one night already had a semi-practical solution?

Mary set aside her thoughts and reached out for Tucker’s signature, hoping for the calm he’d given her earlier. The kind he seemed to give just by being close. She didn’t have a lot of practice reading immortals and never a vampire, so it took an effort, but she found his watchful, reassuring presence…although there was a definite layer of tension now. A kind she didn’t fully recognize, but reminded her of the stairwell. Smoky and eager and hot. The way she’d felt when his breath ghosted over her ear, his big hand tracing her hip. When she’d wanted to wrap her legs around his waist. Was Tucker thinking of the stairwell now?

Realizing she was starting to breathe faster, Mary stopped reaching for Tucker’s signature and retreated back into herself. The sun was about to rise and they’d stopped at a roadside motel. Before Tucker climbed out of the car, he’d reassured her she would be in view of registration. That promise allowed her to lean back in the seat now, relax her bunched muscles. So much for being brave and independent. Vulnerability had crept in the second Tucker left the car. These surroundings were strange. If she exited the vehicle, she wouldn’t know where anything was. How to navigate.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

As a child, she’d run through fields without anything or anyone to guide her, relying on her elevated senses to alert her if something was wrong. If an impediment stood in her way. If she fell, she fell. No one was stopping her from getting back up. After being indoors so long, that bravery had been replaced by wariness. Staying inside was for her own good. The good of others. She’d had those words repeated to her often and usually blew them off, not willing to give them credence. But they must have sunk in, despite her best efforts.

Sitting in the car in a strange place had her close to shaking.

She curled a hand around her armrest, remembered the weight of her suitcase in her hand. The suitcase she’d packed herself. She wasn’t reliant on other people for everything. One day she wouldn’t rely on anyone but herself. For now, though…

For now, she could only acknowledge how little she’d been taught to do. She’d never been to a store. Never purchased clothing or made a phone call or checked into a motel.