“The communities were owned by the US, guarded by their military, and run by the Untouched. How could we look at them as anything else?”
“So, the invitation to relocate for safety’s sake was turned down?”
“Unilaterally. We saw the secured neighborhoods for what they were…a form of forced alienation of the magical races. The head of every Clan, Colony, and House agreed to decline the offer, deciding the temporary stability wasn’t worth the risk. The US grudgingly acknowledged the danger of such a lopsided power exchange and sought alternatives.”
“And they wanted to avoid a repeat of the European Blood Wars.” After the emergence and cautious acceptance of witches in America during the late 1600s, the alarming discovery of vampires in France a century later initiated twenty-five years of brutal conflict between the two opposing species.
Vampires needed blood to survive—human blood. They were stronger, faster, and harder to kill than the comparatively frail Anwyll. Their immortality alongside an ability to transition humans with or without consent pushed Europe to try to eradicate them, declaring the Dádhe a danger to the continuation of humanity.
The Anwyll ostensibly refused to choose sides during the violent upheaval, but it was strongly suspected they aided the vampires in secret, using cloaking wards to hide them during daylight hours when they were most vulnerable. Historians also believed the Ferwyn race furtively joined the grossly outnumbered Dádhe in their fight for survival.
With the Fae Touched banded together and the lack of modern-day machines of warfare, the scales were tipped in the Dádhe’s favor. More humans died than the populace could stomach and pressure was finally applied for the bloodshed to end.
Witches intervened again and mediated a covenant between the Dádhe and the Untouched rulers. Blood suppliers would be paid exceptionally well for their services. Infusions would remain infrequent and always voluntary. And vampires would be allowed to live in peace, if not harmony, among humans. But the inherent fear persisted.
“That too,” he said, lips lifting at the corners and tiny lines creasing around his eyes. Abby’s heart gave a little lurch. “The Fae Accord was ultimately negotiated and approved. The so-called sanctuaries turned into sovereign land, eventually adding properties in every major city across the country…including Memphis.”
“Has your pack always lived here?” she asked, trying in vain to calm the swooping sensation in her stomach that a mere smile from him triggered.
“This is where I was born, but my sire was raised in the Tennessee Mountains. The previous príoh sent him and my mother west to establish a new pack and secure territory for the Clan near the Mississippi eighty years before the Untouched were aware the Ferwyn existed.”
“And after?”
“The Walker Pack, alongside the local Colony of witches, helped Rose and her blood-bound vampires make the peninsula habitable. The Anwyll lived on Mud Island until they purchased the High Point Terrace subdivision after WWII and moved out east.”
Witches mixed with the Untouched more than the other magical races, often attending the same schools and churches as humans. Abby’s private high school had over twenty-five witches enrolled when she’d…left.
“Samuel?”
“Yes, darlin’?”
Another grin, another belly flutter.
She disregarded her uncharacteristic physical response to the appealing male and returned to what was important.
“Can I please have my phone?” She licked her suddenly dry lips, and Samuel’s gaze dropped to her mouth. Heat gathered low in her abdomen, chest instantly warming. She could practically feel the blush creeping up her neck. “I promise I won’t use it to try to leave the island.”
Focus!
His eyes lifted, and she caught her breath. The golden-brown was completely gone, the irises fiery yellow. Abby thought she caught a hint of fang before his attention returned to the road.
“Check the glove box.” Samuel sounded as though he’d swallowed a handful of grit.
She pushed on the small storage unit, and the lid flipped open. Samuel leaned sideways, his muscular torso almost in her lap as he grabbed her phone before she could.
His expression turned serious. “We need to talk about your brother first.”
“My brother?” she asked through the sudden obstruction in her throat. They knew about Conlan. But how much did they know?
“Abby.” A one-word demand filled with meaning.
“Hmm?” She dropped her gaze. The sun was beating on her right side, but her body trembled as though she was freezing. The humid breeze from the brisk drive did nothing to bring warmth to her chilled cheeks.
Samuel placed the cheap phone on her knee.
“Take it.” His voice was soft with…compassion? “We’ll talk about Conlan later.”
She nodded, too overcome to trust her voice. Turning the cell phone over, she swiped the screen with icy fingers.
“Nine missed texts,” she finally managed to say on a groan. “And five missed calls.”
Conlan was going to kill her.
“Make sure you return them by five o’clock tonight.”
She frowned at the puzzling order but was too grateful to question it. Tucking the cell into the purse at her feet, she pretended to be engrossed in the passing scenery while working on pulling herself together.
They’d backtracked beyond the complex after leaving Mud Island’s quaint town, Samuel skirting the rear of the ESC-owned alcohol distribution center and passing one of the two schools located on property. He drove them to the north end of the peninsula, the sole section directly connected by land to Memphis. An electrical fence ran from the end of the harbor, crossed North Mud Island Road, and extended to Wolf River—effectively separating them from the US city.
They came into view of a large, burned section of woods beyond the thirteen-foot high boundary. Abby had heard about the fire that was a result of an arson attack three weeks ago—everyone had. But seeing the devastation up close was still a shock.
A temporary barrier surrounded the scorched area, the caution tape enclosing trees that were reduced to either scrawny stubs or stripped of life and toppled on top of each other like blackened Lincoln Logs. The center was bare of brush and covered in ash.
A human elitist organization known as the Knights of Humanity had proudly accepted responsibility for torching the queen’s private property. Coupled with the uncredited destruction of a Fae Touched-owned restaurant off-island this past Christmas, the declaration incited another round of species hostility. The fire had divided the city into two distinct camps: humans who condemned the actions of the hate group and those who wished the Fae Touched community had burned along with the forest. Fortunately, no injuries occurred from either incident.
Two armed members of the Guard walked the interior fence line. Another pair patrolled a short distance behind them. The show of force reminded her the general population couldn’t get in without permission—and Abby couldn’t get out. Her spine shot ramrod straight at the visual proof she’d momentarily forgotten.
“Are you still in pain?” Samuel asked abruptly, noticing her reaction and misinterpreting it. “I’ll take you back to the Harbor Complex and send for Regan.”
“I’m fine.” She clutched at the overhead rail, her knuckles white.
Samuel steered the vehicle down a tree-lined street filled with single-family homes. The residences were all situated on zero lots with architecture ranging from peach-colored plantation style to charming beachfront.
“You’re lying,” he said, pulling to the curb near one of the many parks on the island and turning the motor off. A group of teenage Touched were playing football on the open grass.
“I’m not.”
“I can smell it.”
“You can smell if I’m lying to you?” Didn’t that just suck?
The commander angled to face her. Bracing a forearm on the steering wheel, he steadily shrank the space between them. Impossibl
y broad shoulders and messy blond hair filled Abby’s vision. She didn’t move a muscle as his head slowly descended, lips coming within a whisker of touching the skin beneath her jawline.
“Underneath your natural fragrance of wildflowers,” he said, his breath hot on her neck, “is the scent of rosemary with a hint of camphor, confirming you’re not telling me the whole truth.”
He inched closer, bristled cheek lightly brushing her throat. Her chin instinctually lifted, her breasts growing heavy. He inhaled, and she felt his mouth curve into a smile against her rapidly heating flesh.
“That’s much better.” The tip of his nose nudged her earlobe. “Why did you lie?”
An exuberant shout broke the sensual haze Samuel had woven around her, returning Abby to her surroundings with a start. She scrambled out of the cart.
“I didn’t lie,” she called over her shoulder, knowing the commander would follow. Walking rapidly, she headed to the playing field, high heels partially submerging in the well-manicured lawn. “I’m not in any pain.”
“But you’re not fine either.”
Abby halted her pointless flight. The stubborn male sidling up behind her wasn’t going to let it go. “No, I’m not okay. You may have noticed my life is a hot mess.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts and stared straight ahead. “I just want to be…normal.” Human normal.
And now she was feeling sorry for herself again. Perfect.
The brutal thud of bodies slamming against each other echoed across the park, conveniently diverting her attention to the teens’ game. She winced when a bare-chested shifter male was tackled, his helmetless head bouncing off the ground. But he sprang up with youthful agility and reentered the fray.
A t-shirt clad Anwyll was holding the football, a solitary looping tattoo flaring white on his otherwise rune-free upper arm. The witch dropped back, deftly avoided the opponent trying to sack him, and threw the ball. His intended receiver sprinted down the sideline, caught the perfectly placed spiral and dived over the imaginary goal line. The quarterback threw his arms up in triumph, rushing the makeshift field to join his celebrating teammates.
Abby couldn’t help herself. Like a Pavlovian reflex from her high school cheerleading days, she bounced on her toes and applauded enthusiastically. She stopped mid-clap when Samuel’s arm slipped around her waist. He pulled her against his chest, and her heart beat in triple time. “Abby, you realize you will never—”
Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off by the multiple cries of “Alpha!” and “Commander Walker!” aimed in their direction. They’d been sighted.
The adolescents ran to them at supernatural velocity, their expressions brimming with excitement. Samuel pushed her behind him, a deep rumble in his throat. The kids skidded to a stop, their necks craning to catch a glimpse of the woman the commander protected. Another low, animalistic sound left his lips, and they looked away, the Ferwyns in the group lifting their chins.
“Nice hands, Dax,” he finally said, dispelling the group’s wariness by tousling the sweat-soaked head of the shifter who’d made the amazing catch. The young male’s chest swelled with pride, his face turning red as his friends patted him on the back. Once they’d settled, Samuel clapped the witch on the shoulder. “Way to fire that pigskin, Alex. You couldn’t have walked it to him better.”
The Anwyll grinned, flexed his arm, and kissed the strength tattoo on his bicep.
Abby slipped away amid the hoots of laughter the silly antics elicited from his peers.
Returning to the golf cart, she leaned her backside on the hood and settled in to wait. She didn’t mind. The fresh air felt wonderful after days of being cooped up recovering from her Walk in the Rip.
Raising her face to the warmth of the sun, she closed her eyes against the brightness and listened to the Clan príoh encourage each boy in turn. He seemed to know them all by name, praising their efforts individually and as a team.
The ordinary, everyday scene could have taken place at any park in the world, but the remnants of fire beyond the island’s gates reminded them the safe and mundane wasn’t always guaranteed for the magical community.
The kids knew who provided them an oasis in a desert of hatred, and they lapped each word the commander spoke as though it was manna from heaven. She could hardly blame them, Samuel was…
Abby’s eyes snapped open, her potentially hazardous musings interrupted by forty pounds of brindled fur bumping into her legs hard enough to make her stagger.
“Hey, cutie, where’d you come from?” She crouched and offered her fingers. The pint-sized shifter sniffed, burying his nose in her palm. His muzzle slid across her upturned hand, and she took the hint, scratching him behind the ear. Large, whiskey-colored eyes shut in what could only be exquisite bliss. He seemed so content she was unprepared when his tawny head plowed into her sternum, knocking her onto her tailbone. Then the pup’s front paws landed on the top of her shoulders, and the extra weight pushed Abby flat on her back.
He licked her face.
“Okay, okay, I give.” She grabbed fistfuls of the brown ruff streaked with gold, holding the rambunctious pup at bay. He yipped playfully and bared his miniature fangs.
“Junior, come here this instant.” The feminine holler came from across the street.
The small Ferwyn peeked over his haunches and whined.
The repeated yell of “Junior!” came at the same time as Samuel’s stern “Thomas!”
It was too much for the young shifter. He ran his long, slobbery tongue over Abby’s cheek in apology and took off at a lope, tail tucked between his legs. The commander made a gesture and the knot of teens broke and gave chase.
Levering onto her elbows, Abby looked up into Samuel concerned face and laughed. He reached down and easily lifted her off the pavement by her underarms.
“Are you okay?” He set her on her feet, swiping at the gravel stuck to her bare arms.
Still smiling, she brushed the grime off her butt. “I’m good. Where’d the little guy go?”
Samuel cupped her chin, tilted it up. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”
Her heart galloped, grin fading. His captivating gaze held hers, worry changing to something else entirely. Something like hunger. His fingers trailed down her cheek. His head lowered a fraction.
“Al fa.” A tiny body pressed between their legs.
Samuel rubbed his thumb over the center of her upper lip and then released her. Abby exhaled a shaky breath, taking in the naked boy with the mop of burnished brown hair and skin streaked with dirt and grass stains.
The commander squatted in front of the toddler, clasping the child’s thin shoulder. “Forget something?”
“My clothes again?” His heavily lashed walnut-colored eyes fixed on Abby. “Who’s that?”
“Clothes first,” his Alpha insisted.
Thomas sighed and screwed his lids shut. His forehead creased in concentration and red cotton pajama bottoms with blue and green dinosaurs appeared.
“Good job,” Samuel said, picking him up and placing him on his hip. “Thomas, this is Abby.”
“Hey there, buddy.” She couldn’t help but be charmed by the cherub’s toothy grin.
“You smell funny,” he told her, grubby fingers unerringly finding a whitened piece of her hair and bringing the long strand to his nose. “Flowers.”
Her smile wavered as she circled his chubby fingers and carefully freed the betraying lock, retreating a few steps at the approach of his caretaker.
“Come here, baby.” The female shifter retrieved the boy from Samuel. “I’m sorry, Alpha. He got away from me.”
“No problem. I see his conversion skills are getting better.”
“Did you miss the bare booty show?” She ruffled the toddler’s tawny head affectionately. “My son forgets his pants more often than not, but he’s learning.” She turned to Abby with a mildly curious expression.
“Becky Cavanaugh, this is Abby Barnes,” Samuel said, resting his palm
above the waistband of her jeans. “The queen’s new assistant.”
“Hi.” Abby didn’t offer her hand, afraid of getting too close. “Thomas is absolutely adorable.”
“Thank you.” Becky zoomed in on Samuel’s arm around her hip, her smile growing uncomfortably astute. “Let me know if you need anything. I’d be happy to show you around.”
“Commander Walker was kind enough to give me the tour.” She attempted to sidestep Samuel’s touch but he hooked a belt loop, preventing her from moving away. “But…umm…thank you.” Abby’s cheeks were on fire.
“You can find my number in the island’s directory if you change your mind.” Becky’s amused gaze fell on the príoh before returning to her son. “Let’s get some lunch and then nap time for you, kiddo.” She hitched Thomas higher and tickled his tummy. “Later y’all.”
Thomas giggled and waved goodbye.
“Be good for your mama,” Samuel said, giving the pup what Abby surmised was an extremely watered-down version of an Alpha’s stern glare.
“I will, Al fa.” His little face was solemn, his voice high and squeaky. “I promise.”
Samuel nodded in approval of his little pack member’s vow and led Abby to their vehicle with a grin tugging at his lips. His hand returned to her lower back for the short walk.
“I didn’t realize Ferwyns could conjure clothing so young,” she said, sliding into the leather seat and ignoring her disappointment when the contact ended.
“It’s more a summoning than a true spell.” He settled into the driver’s side and turned the ignition.
“I don’t understand.”
“Thomas was wearing the pjs when he shifted.” He drove the cart toward her apartment building. “Once my kind were able to convert forms effortlessly, we found it…inconvenient when our clothes stayed with us.”
Abby clamped her lips shut to repress a giggle, picturing a massive wolf squeezed into a pair of pants and a t-shirt. She coughed and choked when Samuel’s heavy boots joined the comical vision.
Fae Touched (Fae Touched Book 1): Paranormal Romance Page 7
