Fae Touched (Fae Touched Book 1): Paranormal Romance

by Lisa Rae Roman

  “Sure. Thanks, Johnnie.” She immediately missed the shifter’s warmth and cheerfulness; her innate chit-chat had been a distraction from the upcoming confrontation.

  Abby watched Johnnie leave, and turned to knock. She couldn’t do it.

  They know what I am, and they’re not going to let me go.

  She dropped her forehead to the polished wood door and sighed. She had to make Lady Rose and the commander understand why she couldn’t stay.

  “Are you okay?” Zee asked, her voice filled with concern.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” Lost in her misery, Abby had forgotten the witch was in the room. “Just nervous. It’s not every day you meet with a vampire queen.”

  “I don’t think it’s the queen you should be worrying about. It’s all the testosterone floating around in there that would concern me.” Zee laughed, dark eyes glittering. “Or not, if I was single.”

  “Well, that makes me feel so much better.” Abby told the lie with the terrifying knowledge that her days of hiding were over.

  Chapter 5

  Samuel listened to Noah recount his version of the previous night’s attack and waited for the prince of the ESC Region to comment from the other end of the conference table.

  Myles Handley, clad in a tailored charcoal suit, crossed his legs and reclined in the upholstered chair, rocking it slightly. The heir to both Rose’s monarchy and the Standish House appeared relaxed. His immaculately groomed hands were loosely clasped on the glass tabletop, his unlined face impassive.

  “Would anyone care to explain how this attack happened and who was behind it?” the prince asked coolly.

  “Myles.” Rose’s tone was conciliatory. “There was no way the Guard could have anticipated an assassination attempt. If it is anyone’s fault, it is mine for insisting on leaving the island on a last-minute whim.”

  “It’s their job to know these things. Is it not?” The accusation was evident, as was the suppressed rage simmering beneath his calm demeanor.

  Noah bristled. Samuel felt his nephew’s agitation—and guilt—through his bond with the pack. It was the responsibility of the Guard to police any Fae Touched within their territory and protect the region’s monarch. They had faltered in the former and come perilously close to failing the latter.

  After a strained silence, Myles unclasped his hands and leaned forward. “Consul Monroe is powerful enough to break the Calling.”

  “So are you,” Rose teasingly pointed out.

  The Calling referred to the solemn ritual whereby every Dádhe was magically tied to a higher-ranking member in the region’s ruling vampire House. Once the rite was completed, it was physically impossible to participate in anything causing direct harm to its matriarch or patriarch.

  Blood bonds were the cornerstone of Dádhe society, cementing the chain of command through a pyramidal succession. The Calling enabled the strongest of their kind to temper a weaker vampire’s desire for human blood, the binding an indispensable means of controlling a predatory race whose primary food source outnumbered them by a wide margin.

  “Does Monroe wish to rule?” Tucker asked, coming to a halt.

  The queen turned to Samuel’s beta, her eyes bright with amusement. “No. It took me thirty years to persuade him to accept the role of House caraidh and another decade to agree to be the region’s representative in Alabama. I think Caleb Monroe would rather lose his head than find himself responsible for the entire ESC territory. I feel confident that we should look elsewhere for whoever is behind the attack.”

  Samuel agreed Monroe was loyal to the Dádhe House’s matriarch. Though he was strong enough to lead a vampire family, the consul appeared content to remain third in the Standish hierarchy, behind Rose and Myles in power and influence.

  “Another one of the Nine then,” Samuel stated. The remaining eight monarchs and their chosen heirs were suspects along with the individual vampire, witch, or shifter leaders irrespective of which race was wearing a region’s crown. There were also fifty royally appointed consuls who represented each state in the US and were powerful beings in their own right.

  Rose’s blood-bound vampires, and Samuel’s clanmates—as long as he remained Clan Walker’s príoh—could be trusted. But he couldn’t rule out the ESC’s Colony of witches. Just over three million Fae Touched lived within America’s borders, and half of them were Anwylls without the benefit of magical ties to ensure their loyalty.

  “They wouldn’t dare,” the prince said emphatically. “Our relationship with the human populace is too brittle. None of the other monarchs would be foolish enough to risk our sovereign status for a power grab the US government wouldn’t tolerate, and I’d never let stand. It’s more likely the traitor is one of our own.” He paused. “Do we know the whereabouts of Mr. Reed?”

  Noah jumped out of his seat at the mention of his father. The violent reaction knocked his chair over with a crash. “The attackers were fuckin’ rogue vampires who crossed into our territory. My sire had nothing to do with this.”

  Under normal circumstances, Noah wouldn’t be welcome at the private meeting. The shifter didn’t hold enough rank within the Walker pack or the region’s Guard. But he’d fought bravely against the assassins to protect the queen, and he’d witnessed Abby’s magic.

  Myles nonchalantly tugged at the cuff of a pristine white shirtsleeve. “I suggest you control the pup, Commander Walker. Or I will.”

  Without looking away from the prince, Samuel rested a hand against his nephew’s chest, ordering him to sit down. Noah obeyed immediately, planting himself stiffly in his chair, clutching the arms.

  James Reed was a devoted husband, sire, warrior, and clanmate. His dissatisfaction with living under the will of a vampire queen after decades of contentment had been sudden. The impromptu challenge for local pack leadership—shocking.

  James lost a short but brutal battle with Samuel and then disappeared the next day without his Ca’anam, his truemate.

  A Ca’anam couple never lived apart. Not ever.

  Strong alphas like James could survive the stretching of a completed mating bond for an extended period without showing signs of weakness. Years could pass before a Ferwyn male escaped the unbearable pain of losing his Ca’anam by succumbing to the call of the Glaofin, the widowed alpha choosing to live the remainder of his days as a wolf, never returning to human form. Claimed females parted from their truemates didn’t have that option since they couldn’t fully shift. Symptoms would manifest within weeks of separation, and the female ultimately died from a broken heart.

  Samuel couldn’t believe James would let it get to that point. Contrary to his firm belief, his brother-in-law had been gone a week, moving out of range of the bond that every Alpha had with his pack members and purposely straying too far for Samuel to get an accurate fix on his location. Too far away to comfort and restore his mate, Sarah.

  “We have no reason to suspect my sister’s Ca’anam had any involvement in this,” Samuel said, keeping his temper under control. He could dimly sense James’ erratic emotions, the intense vibrations gnawing at the outer edges of his awareness like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He could feel the strength of Sarah’s mate’s inner turmoil, but he still hadn’t come home.

  According to Ferwyn law, the pack bond should have already been broken, an outcast no longer considered part of a Clan. But Samuel couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t give up hope that Noah’s sire would return to the fold.

  If he severed the magical tie between them, when James returned—and he would return—he’d be forced to find an Alpha from one of the other eight regions to take him in.

  The bond with a shifter’s Clan could never be remade once broken, and Sarah would be forced to relocate with James. And as only unmated females were allowed to cross rival Clan lines, Samuel would lose his sister. Noah, both parents.

  On top of everything else, without an Alpha’s binding, a male Ferwyn would inevitably go feral. Unlike the Glaofin, which was a sad but self-serving
choice, an unbound shifter would uncontrollably revert to their baser impulses over time. They would be unable to maintain their human form for long or hold onto higher sentience when in either skin or fur.

  Myles’ hard gaze met his. “It is well-known Mr. Reed is unhappy with our queen, and may support a change in leadership.”

  “He is frustrated by the policies that allow violence against our people to go unpunished.” Samuel focused solely on the prince. No matter what was going on with James, he would never physically hurt Rose. “Are you questioning my family’s loyalty? My Clan’s allegiance?”

  Samuel’s wolf responded to the challenge, coming swiftly to the foreground. Myles’ raw power answered, his incisors dropping to press into his lower lip.

  “Stop it.” Rose slapped her hands on the table. “This is getting us nowhere.”

  Several tense seconds passed without either male breaking.

  “So be it then. On three, gentlemen.” The queen’s nails thrummed on the tabletop. “One.”

  Samuel didn’t blink.

  “Two.”

  Myles’ pupils flared red. The damp earthy odor of a Dádhe’s power melded with a Ferwyn’s sharp scent of pine. The air grew dense with the dual smells of opposing racial magic.

  “Stubborn saddle-gooses,” she grumbled. “Three.”

  Their locked stares broke, gazes swinging to Rose on cue. Neither male would have considered submitting without her interference. Samuel’s wolf nature and the prince’s pride wouldn’t have allowed it.

  “Are we done with this macho idiocy? If so, can we discuss Abigail and perhaps who might want me dead?” She turned to the youngest shifter. “And Noah?”

  “Yes, milady?”

  “Watch your language.”

  Tucker snorted as Noah turned beet red and stammered an apology. The pressure in the room noticeably lessened, just as the queen intended.

  Myles stood, placing his fists on the table and leaning into his weight. “Commander Walker?”

  “This is all I could gather on short notice.” Samuel slid a slim file across the table. “They are any number of people, magical and nonmagical, who’d kill to get ahold of a Na’fhuil. This information won’t be entered into our computer system, and I’d strongly suggest destroying the file after you’ve read it. We can’t risk a leak.”

  Myles tapped the manila folder with one finger. “Tell me.”

  “Her real name is Abigail Colleen MacCarthy, but she’s been using Barnes for just short of a year. Prior to Memphis, she lived in Kansas City for six months and went by Abigail Sherman. Before that, she spent a few months in Vegas as Colleen Michaels.” Samuel recited it all from memory. “She recently turned twenty-five. An Untouched as far as anyone knew until yesterday. Her parents died in a car accident in Mississippi when she was a sophomore in high school. There is an older sibling, Conlan MacCarthy, who’s currently working for an American oil company somewhere in Western Asia. He’s a registered human.”

  “Any other family?”

  Samuel shook his head. “There was a maternal grandmother, but she died two years ago from Alzheimer’s.”

  “Shortly before the aliases began,” Myles noted. “Boyfriend?”

  “I don’t think so, but I didn’t have time to dig that deeply,” Samuel said more curtly than he’d intended. He was unreasonably disturbed by the thought of Abby having a man in her life. A growl was building in his chest, and he quelled it with unusual difficulty.

  “Excellent.” Myles straightened. “We won’t have anyone interfering while we decide what to do with her.”

  “What to do with her?” Samuel ground his teeth.

  The queen’s head jerked up. “I am hoping as a Na’fhuil in hiding, Abigail will agree she requires our protection and will give her loyalty to us freely.”

  Myles was either oblivious or uncaring of his matriarch’s cautionary words. “Miss MacCarthy is a Fae Touched living within our territory. She’ll do as she’s told. I won’t permit a halfblood to fall into the hands of an enemy and be used against Rose later. I’ll dispose of her myself first.”

  Samuel stiffened and stood slowly, every muscle in his body taut as he struggled to curb his wolf’s instincts. He failed, long black nails springing from his fingertips. He wanted to tear the Dádhe apart with his bare hands, and his Ferwyn nature was making sure that he could.

  “Myles!” Rose moved between them with blurring speed. “It will not come to that.” She placed her fingers alongside the prince’s rigid jaw. “It is obvious Abigail is scared and running from someone. I agree we need to find out who that is and neutralize them if they are a threat to our community. But she saved my life at great risk to her own, and I will not allow anyone to harm her. Not even you.”

  “Aunt Rose,” Myles said with a heavy sigh, laying his hand gently over hers. “I’m the Standish House’s thlán for a reason. You are, and always will be my primary concern. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” His green eyes, so like the queen’s, softened imperceptibly. If Samuel hadn’t been watching the vampire intently, he would have missed the brief show of emotion.

  The duties of a thlán, along with those of a House’s caraidh, were considered sacred to the Dádhe and free from political machinations. Despite Myles being the son of Rose’s long-dead birth sister, a familial link wasn’t required to fulfill either position. But it was imperative both stations were held by more than just the obligation of a Calling.

  Monroe, the caraidh for Standish House, and the queen had been friends for over eighty years, and an authentic affection existed between the two vampires. It was another reason Samuel didn’t believe the consul had anything to do with the attempt on her life.

  By definition, caraidh meant our shelter in the old language. In accepting the vital role, Monroe had sworn to protect every vampire blood-bound to the Standish House.

  A thlán, however, was a matriarch’s or patriarch’s shield and charged with one task—keeping the head of his or her Dádhe House alive. Myles took the obligation seriously.

  Samuel strained to retract his claws, his aggressive response to the threat against Abby unsettling. It was the second time in less than twenty-four hours he’d thought of the halfblood before his queen. Though he would never condone harming an innocent, now was not the time for infighting. His wolf gave a last internal snarl and reluctantly retreated, unhappy to be denied a bloody battle with a worthy opponent. Forcing his muscles to relax, Samuel rolled his shoulders and observed his clanmates.

  Tucker’s eyes were hot chips of glowing yellow fire, and Noah’s mouth bulged with fangs. “Stand down, both of you.” Samuel pushed feelings of reassurance and calm through the magical threads connecting him to the pack, the intricately woven web with an Alpha at its center provided the necessary pathway. The males responded almost instantly, entirely human-looking within seconds. “And lieutenant…sit.” His beta took his place next to Noah.

  “Samuel, I assure you she will not be mistreated.” Rose made the promise as her attention swung to the office door. Distractedly patting her nephew’s cheek, she hurried to her seat and crossed her legs primly. “Abigail is here.”

  A wave of anticipation and pleasure swept over Samuel as his wolf sat up and took notice.

  What the hell?

  The majority of humans thought being a shifter was a harmonious coexistence of man and beast. In truth, there was no individuality between the two. The only duality was one of controlled behavior over primal instinct. If Samuel tried to explain it to a non-shifter, he would say it was like learning a second language. The wolf was his native tongue and at the forefront of every thought or emotion. Other input or stimulus were foreign and required translation. When a Ferwyn spoke of their wolf, they were referring to their primordial self and not a separate entity.

  Apparently, Samuel’s wolf was more than happy to see the halfblood beauty again.

  Chapter 6

  “Pull up those pretty panties, and deal with it, babygirl.”
/>   Bridget MacCarthy

  Abby opened the door at the monarch’s bidding, stopping short when she saw the brooding male waiting for her inside.

  Samuel stood near the queen at the end of an industrial-style glass and wood conference table. His mouth was a thin-lipped grimace, brows pinched and lowered over golden eyes flaring with obvious irritation aimed directly at Abby.

  Okay, that can’t be a good sign.

  Knowing it was far too late to turn tail and run—not that there was any chance of escaping—she straightened her spine and shut the door softly behind her.

  Ignoring the sullen Alpha, she resolutely crossed the cream carpet while taking in the office’s eclectic decor with a glance. On her right were two beige club chairs in front of a heavily distressed desk, an alabaster silk chair tucked behind it. The windowless walls were painted ivory and covered in bright, modern artwork; the contrast was startling in an otherwise muted palette.

  Noah and Tucker twisted in their seats, watching her slow progression. The younger warrior winked at her. Abby sent him a half-hearted scowl in return, and he responded with a grin. Tucker lifted his upper lip in what she assumed was an encouraging smile—but absolutely was not.

  The fourth male in the room had his back turned, seemingly uninterested in her arrival. Abby was halfway to the queen before she caught a glimpse of his profile.

  Prince Myles was the best-looking man she had ever seen. Bar none.

  The ESC’s heir must have gone through Infusion in his prime because he didn’t look a day over thirty. Stunning emerald eyes, high cheekbones, a straight nose, sculpted lips, and a strong jawline coalesced into a face an angel would envy. His pitch-black hair and dark brows saved him from being almost too pretty, lending him a bad boy appeal that was far from feminine. Or angelic.

  Of course, she’d seen numerous pictures of the handsome vampire. He was in the news regularly and often featured in celebrity magazines. Those images didn’t do justice to the up close and personal magnetism the prince projected. He was every teenage girl’s dream and quite possibly Abby’s worst nightmare. The conservative business suit did nothing to hide the predatory nature she sensed beneath the refined shell.