Fae Touched (Fae Touched Book 1): Paranormal Romance

by Lisa Rae Roman

  “If the second bite is made with someone outside our race…” He paused as if trying to find the right words. “Certain Ferwyn attributes can cross over. Slightly enhanced hearing and extreme jealousy being the most common to appear first.”

  “I growled and bared my teeth,” she said, hearing the hysteria in the rising pitch of her voice and wrestled it to a hushed cry. “And I don’t even have fangs.”

  “Don’t you think I want to throttle every male who looks your way? Kill anyone who dares touch what’s mine? I can barely do my job because all I think about is being inside you. I’m semi-hard all the fucking time. I can’t get enough of your smell, the taste of your skin, the sweet sound of your voice. I sense you on the edge of my consciousness, the insistent buzz in my head unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. And I’m the príoh of an entire region of shifters.”

  He leaned in and ran his nose through her bangs. “I search for you everywhere I go, hoping to catch a glimpse of those amazing blue eyes, and am royally pissed when I know you’re near but I can’t be with you…can’t touch you.” He brushed his lips across the recently renewed Mark on her shoulder. The thin straps of her dress did nothing to hide the bruised-colored ring. “I’m glad you’re feeling the same possessiveness toward me that I do for you. It’s only fair,” he added with more than a hint of satisfaction.

  She took a tremulous breath. “So, this is normal?”

  “Completely.”

  “Any other changes I should expect?” she asked with strained nonchalance, distracting herself by pushing her fingers through his habitually messy hair, working it into some pretense of order.

  “Not until after I’ve made you my Ca’anam.”

  Abby froze, heart leaping at the implied promise. Samuel had informed her somewhat smugly the morning after he’d made the second Mark that they could become truemates. But she had avoided the discussion when he brought it up, knowing they might never get the chance to complete the bond.

  Could she want something so badly it hurt? Knowing she couldn’t have it, at least not anytime soon? Yes, she really could, because Abby did—so much.

  Resuming her grooming to keep from meeting his eyes and giving away her conflicting emotions, she asked her next question with a lightness she didn’t feel. “If we finish the Dance, what other embarrassing scenarios should I expect? A lady should always be prepared.”

  The muscle in Samuel’s jaw bunched, the vein in his temple suddenly pronounced. “When,” he said, all stubborn male. “When I make you my Ca’anam, your sense of smell will heighten. You’ll heal faster than you do now, and your life expectancy will be attached to mine.”

  “I’ll live as long as a shifter?” She let the hand in his hair fall forgotten to his shoulder.

  “The magic in my bite keeps you tied to me. Did you think I only wanted a few decades together?” His face softened, though his tone did not. “Abby, I’m a selfish male. Get used to it, and getting bitten, frequently.”

  Heat suffused her cheeks and chest, her body aching for him again at the pleasurable reminder of his teeth sinking into her shoulder just hours earlier. She pushed the poorly timed urge aside and mumbled, “I hadn’t thought…”

  And she hadn’t, refusing to permit herself to reach that far into the future, to hope for forever with him. If she suddenly disappeared after they were irrevocably bound, Samuel could lose himself to his wolf. Even if they were mated for a short time, the breaking of a completed claiming eventually resulted in the shifter going Glaofin. His loss would devastate the region, his Clan, his queen—and it’d kill Abby.

  “Do you understand me? You’re mine.” He squeezed her nape. “Mine. And I will fully claim you. Soon.”

  Her heart was too full to answer; the tears clogging her throat making speech an impossibility anyway.

  Samuel gripped her neck more firmly and rubbed his bristled cheek across her smooth one. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She was proud her voice didn’t shake as she fought the persistent fear that those who coveted a Na’fhuil and would do anything to get one, could shatter the dream of being together. She shoved playfully at his solid chest and finally said, “I need to get going, or I’ll be late.”

  He kissed her forehead and said with a tender command, “Be safe and do everything Blackwater tells you.”

  “I will.” She pushed harder, heart clenching, encouraging him to leave before she begged him to stay. “Get out now, please. I’m sure you have some príoh things to do, and I have a short-tempered redhead waiting for me.”

  “Príoh things?” he asked curiously, climbing out of the SUV and turning to lean against the doorframe. He had a grin on his handsome face, the sharp angles of his jaw covered in a light stubble, warm gaze once again a mellow amber.

  Her heart trembled just looking at him.

  “Yes, you know, Alpha things. Commander things, head honcho things,” she said with feigned casualness, flicking wrist and fingers in a dismissing motion.

  Mikhail reoccupied the driver’s seat, and Hop climbed into the passenger side.

  “Sunset’s at a quarter past eight. Have her at the complex no later than seven forty-five, Blackwater.”

  “Bossy male things…” Abby added, dramatically rolling her eyes.

  Samuel chuckled and tapped the hood of the truck. “Seven forty-five and not a minute later.”

  “Copy that,” the older Ferwyn replied, adjusting the strap across his chest that held his inverted dagger. A larger, wicked-looking blade rested along his spine and was partially hidden under the thick rope of Hop’s single braid. Knives of varying lengths and widths were attached to both thighs and ankles. A curved sword hung at his waist, a rounded shield fastened to his belt. The Guard was formidable even without the American government-banned firepower.

  “You left this.” Evelyn slid in and handed Abby the purse she didn’t remember dropping.

  The Anwyll had a knife at her waist but no other visible weapons, unless you counted the rows of intricately designed runes embedded in her skin.

  The brunette didn’t seem upset by what transpired outside the complex steps, but Abby was compelled to apologize again. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “No worries. My best friend’s a shifter and truemated. Trust me, I’ve seen the insanity that goes along with the Dance.” She used air quotes. “I’ve known that she-wolf since we were in diapers, and the bitch still beat the ever lovin’ stew outa me after deciding I’d looked a little too long at her male.”

  “She didn’t.”

  “She did. Becky threw a conniption fit,” Evelyn confirmed. “Oh, she felt bad about it afterward. I gave as good as I got, but damn those wolves are crazy. But what can I say? Thomas looked good in a tux, and I told him so.” She laughed with surprising fondness. “Weddings are so much fun.”

  “It was her wedding day?” Abby asked in horror.

  “Yes, ma’am. For some unknown reason, she got it in her head that it’d be romantic to wait until after they were married for the final claiming bite.” Evelyn shook her head. “Becky doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose.”

  “Becky Cavanaugh?”

  “One and the same.”

  “I’ve met her and little Thomas. She seemed very nice.”

  “Oh, she is usually.” Evelyn’s grin was huge. “The fight did a number on our dresses.”

  “I’d imagine so,” she said, frankly shocked by the picture the female painted.

  “We’re here,” Hop announced as they made a left onto Madison Avenue. Entering the city had gone smoothly, the protestors gathered on the Memphis side of the bridge trickling to a few diehards over the weeks since the incident at Chess. Although the accused vampires were still trapped on the island for their safety, relationships between the locals and the rest of the Fae Touched had mostly returned to normal.

  Felicia Suzanne was a fine dining establishment located on South Main. The downtown trolley line—when operating—was the only m
otorized vehicle authorized on the cobblestoned street, the restriction requiring Mikhail to sidle up to the corner and drop them off.

  Hop made a quick survey of the area before opening the door for Abby. Evelyn scooched awkwardly across the seat behind her, choosing to stay close rather than walk around.

  They headed south, reaching the catty-cornered entrance of the restaurant within moments. Opening one of the red double doors, the shifter gestured for them to proceed through the parted scarlet drapes. Despite the fantastic food, white tablecloths, and velvet chairs, Felicia’s had a casual, well-worn atmosphere Abby loved.

  It was early for the Friday night dinner rush, and several tables were empty, making it easy to see Penny seated near the windows. Her friend waved, and metallic bangles slid to her elbow, catching the sunlight. Abby went to join her, but Evelyn blocked her, insisting she wait for Hop to indicate everything was secure before allowing her farther into the room.

  “Hey,” Penny greeted once they reached the table. She wore an emerald, sleeveless top and white slacks, her unruly mass of burgundy hair pinned ruthlessly to the crown of her head. “Is inside okay? I thought it might be too hot to sit on the patio.”

  “This is great.” And her only option, the team prohibiting her from being in the open for any length of time. Sitting across from her friend, Abby had a view of Main Street where a passing horse and buggy was transporting a pair of tourists.

  Evelyn and Hop took a soldier’s stance directly behind her chair.

  Penny regarded the dangerously armed shifter with her slightly pudgy nose in the air. “Are you waiting to check my purse? Or maybe I’ve got a bomb stuck in my bun. You can never be too sure.”

  “Not necessary, ma’am,” Hop replied, wide nostrils flaring. “I’d sense if you had anything worth hiding.” Stormy gray eyes flicked to her small bosom and back to her outraged face.

  “Are they joining us for dinner?” Penny’s milky skin blanketed with freckles flushed with ire, her expression a thundercloud. “If they are, then he’s paying.” She pointed a coral tipped index finger at the unrepentant Ferwyn. “We missed the twenty-five-cent martinis, and I’m going to need a drink, or six if he’s staying.”

  “No,” Abby said, shooting Hop a stony behave look. “Although we won’t have much privacy. They have orders to remain close.” She busied herself by placing the cloth napkin onto her lap. “But I’m sure they’ll give us as much space as they can.” The firm declaration intended sounded more like a plea.

  After a brief hesitation, the shifter nodded at Evelyn, and they moved the short distance to the bar, taking positions at opposite ends. Blackwater’s attention stayed on their table; the witch’s panning everywhere else.

  “Tell me the truth, how much danger are you in? Do you really need babysitters?” she asked, her expertly made-up blue eyes filled with concern. “Because hot boyfriend or no, if you need me to send in the cavalry and get you the hell out of Dodge, I will.” And by the cavalry, she meant her three ex-army ranger brothers.

  “Just say the word.” Penny hadn’t raised her voice but hadn’t lowered it either. What would be the point with shifters nearby?

  Abby covered her friend’s hand where it rested on the table, giving it a quick squeeze. “You know I’d do the same for you, but it’s not necessary. I’m good. Samuel’s being cautious because there’s a lot going on with Lady Rose right now.”

  “The attempted hit at the store?” Penny picked up her water glass. “What does that have to do with you?” She took a small sip, revealing the tiny gap separating her front teeth.

  “I work for the queen.”

  “And what? The commander thinks the attackers would use you against her somehow?”

  It was as good an explanation as any and only a little white lie. “Probably not, but Samuel doesn’t want to take any chances.” His protectiveness was a hundred percent true.

  “You’ll let me know if things change? If living on Blood Island gets to be too much,” she said, zeroing in on the bite on Abby’s neck, worry making her speckled forehead crinkle. “Or wolf boy crosses the line?”

  “I will.” Abby averted her face. She’d never put her friend in danger.

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise.” She brought her goblet to her mouth, meeting Penny’s scrutiny as steadily as she could. She was a terrible liar.

  “Hmm, we’ll see,” Penny replied doubtfully before her unconventionally pretty face relaxed, replaced by arched eyebrows and a comical leer. “Now dish. How’s the sex? I hear a Ferwyn male can go for-fucking-ever and be ready again in a matter of minutes. Confirm or deny?”

  Abby choked on her sip of water.

  “What? I’m dying here. You gotta give me something,” she said, leaning over and pounding Abby on the back. “Besides, you owe me.”

  “For what?” she croaked, trying to catch her breath.

  “Getting too sick to work that nightshift at La Bella,” she said with a straight face. “You’re welcome.”

  Thankfully the waiter chose that moment to interrupt—or not—since he wouldn’t meet her eyes. As a shifter, he must have heard every embarrassing word.

  “Hi, I’m Scott. I’ll be your server tonight,” the male said, stiffly angling toward Penny. Abby didn’t recognize the young Ferwyn but guessed he was here to start U of M’s summer session. As long as they stayed in the region, shifters often left home to attend college. He probably hadn’t had a chance yet to integrate with what would be his temporary pack. “Can I get you ladies something from the bar?”

  Guard Blackwater eyed the waiter with a puzzled frown.

  “I’ll have a large glass of the house chardonnay,” she answered, her pointed chin lifting at the audible, disdainful grunt from Hop.

  “And your friend?” His nostrils flared, but his regard remained on Penny as if his life depended on it.

  Her full mouth turned down. “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “He can’t,” Abby said, thumb rubbing away the smudge marks her pink lipstick left on the edge of her glass.

  “Why the hell not?” She probably thought Abby was being snubbed for some unknown reason.

  “Would you please tell him I’d like an iced tea?”

  Penny gave the server an impatient look. “She’ll have tea.”

  “Sweet or unsweet?”

  “Honey, do we look like Yankees to you?” she said with a twang. “Sweet, of course.”

  “I’ll be right back with your drinks and take your order.”

  “You do that.” The Ferwyn had barely taken a step when Penny turned back to her. “Spill.”

  “I’m going into work after our dinner, so no alcohol for me.”

  “Don’t even,” she said at the obvious attempt at misdirection.

  Abby sighed heavily. “He can’t ask me himself because Samuel Marked me and any bitten female has to be introduced by their potential mate to any other male in their society before they can interact.”

  Penny said nothing, staring at Abby as if she’d grown three heads.

  “It’s only for the length of the Mating Dance,” she explained and immediately regretted it. Abby didn’t need to justify the Ferwyn way of life or her relationship with Samuel. There was nothing to defend, and it was no one’s business but their own. Switching her attention from her drink to Mikhail who was patrolling outside the window, she determined no matter what Penny’s reaction, she wouldn’t hold it against her, knowing it would be coming from a good place.

  “Well, hot damn.”

  Abby’s attention snapped to Penny. The slender woman’s shoulders were slouched against the brown velvet bench. The expression on her face could be described as envious.

  “You don’t think it’s insane for someone to dictate who you can talk to and who you can’t?”

  “If it was a human man and it bothered you, or if I thought you were in an abusive relationship, then I’d say yes, ‘Run, Forrest, run.’ But a Fae Touched? An Alpha? The dominant sh
ifter in the entire region?” A devilish smile lit her from the inside, turning a uniquely interesting face into a striking one, one that could walk a fashion runway in Paris. “All I have to say is, where do I get one? Just think, all that growly possessive male attention on moi.” She dramatically fanned her face. “Whew, honey, is it getting hot in here?”

  Abby laughed at her momentary foolishness, ashamed she expected to be judged for her choices by someone as big-hearted as Penny. She should have trusted her friend more. “But you have Derek now, isn’t one man enough?”

  “It’s new. We’ve been dating a couple of weeks, but he’s been wonderful, attentive, sweet. A real Southern gentleman.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, gaze straying to the bar behind Abby where Hop spoke with their server, Scott. “Maybe too gentlemanly if you get my meaning. I wonder how chivalrous a shifter would be before getting to the good stuff?” She winked.

  The next couple of hours flew by in a satisfying stream of easy conversation and great food. The restaurant was packed by the time Evelyn signaled they needed to wrap it up.

  “We should do this more often.” Penny fished her credit card from her purse and placed it on the plastic tray along with the bill. She insisted it’d be too much trouble for the waiter to cope with Abby paying the check.

  “My treat next time then,” she said, scooping the remainder of their shared coconut bread pudding with her spoon.

  “Deal.” Penny swiped the last bite right out of Abby’s hand, downing the decadent dessert herself.

  “Thief,” she exclaimed with a laugh.

  Penny licked her lips clean with an equally decadent moan.

  Scott returned quickly, hovering at Abby’s left elbow while her friend signed the receipt. It was the closest he had been to her all evening.

  Penny was returning her Visa to her wallet when a loud cry followed by the crash of broken glass interrupted the steady drum of chatter. All heads turned to the sudden commotion at the bar. Abby pushed her chair back and stood, almost plowing into their server.

  Patrons were swarming the U-shaped bar and peering over the counter at something on the floor. Evelyn crouched on its top, the white light from an activated tattoo near her collarbone filtering through her black tee. Then she dropped into the pit and disappeared as shouts of “Call 911” rang out.