Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae 1)
“I took that a year before she left,” Charity said, noticing his gaze. She sighed. “We snuck into the county fair and spent the day looking and watching.”
“Looking and watching?”
“Yeah. At cows, pigs, crafts, people, kids—we went from place to place within the fair and looked at everything. I found a few tickets and rode a ride. It twirled me, spun me, flipped me upside down—oh man, it was awesome!”
Charity’s eyes sparkled in pleasure, and her smile lit up her face, radiating a beauty that pumped up from somewhere hidden. All too soon, her bearing tensed and she sobered, her gaze finding the picture again. Pain flashed across her dainty features before she turned back to her duffel.
“My dad got worse after that,” she went on in a soft voice. She carefully picked up the frame. “More violent. She had never smiled much, and after that day, I don’t remember her smiling at all. But that one day, we both laughed like children. It was the best day I can remember.”
Charity hurriedly swiped a tear off her face. “She was forty-five in that picture.”
Devon tore his eyes away from Charity’s face in surprise. The woman looked at least ten years older. Life had unabashedly ripped away her vitality. It was too bad.
“Anyway.” The picture was placed on top of the clothes. The duffel had room to spare. “I’m ready.”
“You won’t be back here for a while; it’s too dangerous. Take everything.”
“I got it,” Charity said, glancing down at her bag.
“What about shoes?” She’d only grabbed one holey pair. He looked in her completely bare closet.
Charity’s face closed down, a hint of embarrassment showing in a flush. She squared her body to him, and her magic slammed into his, almost knocking the breath out of him.
Ah. Right. She didn’t have anything else. He let it go.
He jerked his head toward her dinosaur laptop. “You gonna leave that?”
She scowled. “I was going to grab it on the way out.”
“All right, then let’s go.” Devon scooped up her laptop, let her grab the ballerina, and motioned her out of the room.
“Yes, I know it’s old,” Charity said with a stiff back as she led the way, “but it works.”
Devon didn’t look down at the computer. “At least you have one.”
He barely heard her sigh. “Exactly.”
As they passed the kitchen, Charity dipped in toward the cabinets.
“What are you doing?” he asked, peering out the windows.
When he glanced back, she was ripping food out of one of the cupboards, piling it into a brown paper bag.
“Are you kidding me? The vamps will be waking up shortly, and the newbies will be starving. They need a crapload of blood in the first few weeks. Sam might be coming back here. This is not the time for a snack.”
He jogged toward her and reached for her arm. She ducked out of the way and grabbed out some more cans.
“I just want to grab a couple things.”
“Charity, I have food at the house. Let’s go!”
She grabbed a box of what looked like granola bars and dashed to the fridge.
“You aren’t serious. You aren’t.” He was losing patience. “Come on!”
“Yup.” She dropped the last few items into the paper bag, then zipped down the hall and out of the house, emerging into the new night. Alone.
Swallowing back a curse, he launched after her. She was already at the car door by the time he exited the house, too fast for her own good. Shaking his head, blood rushing in his ears, he did a quick glance around before he clicked the fob, unlocking only the driver’s-side door. Ducking into the car, he checked it with his nose. Only the regular smells. No trespassers. No vamps.
“Are you dumb, or something?” he yelled across the hood, completely out of control.
She didn’t react to his temper like his pack did—she simply frowned. “Why?”
He opened his mouth then closed it. He was completely at a loss for words.
Movements jerky with anger, he unlocked her door. Once she was safely in the car, he climbed into the driver’s seat, waited for her attention, and then made a show of looking in the back seat.
“Did you see what I did there?” he asked as he pushed the ignition button. “I checked the back.”
“I saw that, yes. And you are implying I didn’t and should have?”
“Wow, you are astute, Miss Taylor. I can see how you’ve made it so far.”
“Did you think that maybe you could’ve just told me that, instead of being a dick about it?”
“I shouldn’t have to teach you logic.”
“I have a different frame of logic than you do, obviously, since the car was locked until you stepped out of the house with your clicker thingy.”
Devon gripped the steering wheel so he didn’t grip her neck. Her magic poked and prodded him, and her smell threatened to melt him through, making this confrontation a hundred times worse.