Fae Captive (The Mage Shifter War Book 1)

by Elle Middaugh

  Easton nodded, a sympathetic half smile tugging at his soft lips. "Yeah, man, I know. I've been ordered to take over for you while you're gone, so…"

  Bodie stared at him for a moment with a suspicious glare.

  Ohh, he was jealous. Interesting. I’d have to figure out a way to use that someday. But seriously, what did he think? That his friend had made the whole thing up just to separate us and get some extra time with me? I wasn't that great of a catch. Especially not while I was rocking unwashed, knotty hair, overgrown leg hairs, and week-old pho-breath. What I wouldn't give for a toothbrush and a razor…

  Actually, I could use those to help me escape. Probably why they hadn't offered them to me. Butt-licking fuckers.

  Bodie stood and set the book back down on my cot, kneeling off to my left side so as not to interfere with Larry's work. "I'll be back soon, Buttercup."

  "Oh, I'm Buttercup now? Buttercup, Butterfly… I'm just some chunk of heart-attack-inducing lard that gets stuck in your arteries?"

  "What the fuck? No," he protested, shaking his head.

  "What'll it be next? Buttercream? Butterfinger? Butterscotch?"

  Bodie's exasperated expression quickly turned smoldering as his eyes hooded and he bit his lip. "I gotta say, I like the sounds of each and every one of those. Maybe I will use one of those next time."

  I groaned at how epically my plan had just backfired. Especially the look in his eyes when I said fingers. He definitely wasn’t thinking about candy. He better not lay a finger on my...

  "Keep a close eye on her," Bodie patted Easton's shoulder as he entered the cell and my supposed mate made his exit. "But not too close."

  He backed out into the tunnel, flipping two fingers between his eyes and Easton's. On anyone else, that gesture would have looked stupid. But Bodie radiated menace.

  Easton hesitated, shooting me a curious glance before laughing at Bodie's comment and his weird-ass behavior, as if any attraction to me was a huge joke. "Yeah, man, no worries."

  I glared at him. I might not think of myself as a catch, but fuck him and his stupid claws.

  Bodie opened the door at the top of the stairs, and immediately the sound of rambunctious children saturated the air.

  "Uncle Bodie's back!" they cried, followed closely by, "Aww, where's he going?"

  I almost felt bad for the little shits. They wouldn’t have anyone to teach them to scoot across the carpet now.

  As soon as the door was shut, Easton took a seat on the floor, his muscular frame sprawling out over half of my damn cell.

  "You look comfortable," I goaded him.

  He chuckled and leaned back on his elbows. "Yeah, so do you." His eyes traveled over me with an interest that stated his prior laughter was a lie.

  My cheeks heated but I had other things to focus on. I gritted my teeth as Larry continued chanting, his magic transforming from irritating to borderline painful. It was a familiar sensation, one that triggered a reflexive response of arousal in me, but also one of disgust, considering I had zero desire to get my rocks off with Einstein's doppelganger.

  Other present company, though…

  I bit my bottom lip and tried not to imagine Easton inflicting this delicious pain on me just before he ravaged me senseless. As my nipples hardened, heat pooled between my thighs, and my breaths grew short, it was clear I'd failed miserably. I knew his cock was just as thick as the rest of him, from the bulge I’d seen at the club, and I bet it was excruciatingly orgasmic.

  I crossed my legs, hoping his damned shifter nose couldn't somehow smell my arousal. Judging by the way his pale blue eyes suddenly swirled with golden streaks, I had a feeling he'd done exactly that.

  "What kind of shifter are you?" I asked, trying to change the subject while numbly rubbing my arms after the old mage finally finished his spells. My whole body held a dull ache that seeped through skin, muscle, and bone like the frigid cold of deep Pacific waters. I felt frail. Human. I didn’t like it.

  Easton grinned and sat up, draping both arms over his bent knees. "I'll give you a hint. Why do you think they call me Goldilocks?"

  I grabbed my box of takeout and took another bite. "Because of your blond hair?"

  He rolled his eyes but cocked his head, silently admitting that I had a point. "Try again."

  I hummed as I chewed. "Because you're so pretty it's almost feminine?"

  Easton's jaw dropped open, snapped shut, ticked a bit like he might speak, then popped open again. "I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or a burn."

  I snorted, dipping a bite of noodles into my sauce before slipping it into my mouth. "You can take it however you want, pretty boy." I couldn’t help myself. I had a few more shinies and I couldn’t hold back, even though maybe I should have. "Arm candy. Flower boy. Trophy wife. One Direction." I spat them out, rapid fire.

  He raised a brow at me, and somehow managed to look even more enticing than my meal. "You know I'm, like, three times your size, right? There's nothing feminine about me." He flexed his bicep and I dropped a little bit of noodle.

  Damn it. There was no way to hide that. I tried anyway.

  "Please." I rolled my eyes.

  "I can smell that you’re lying."

  "Vietnamese food turns me on," I countered.

  It was weak as hell. But whatever. I was more comfortable bantering with Easton than Bodie, because at least with Easton, the attraction was real—albeit, a bit fucked up, but still—real. We'd genuinely hit it off at the pub. I'd honestly been attracted to him—more so as a blond, but even as a redhead. I'd truly been looking forward to getting my world rocked by his anaconda all night long.

  Now that he was an accomplice to my kidnapping, that'd obviously put a damper on things, but clearly not enough. It irritated the hell out of me that I was attracted to him. What kind of Stockholm Criminal Minds shit was this?

  "Okay, final guess," he said, pushing up onto his feet and withdrawing a set of handcuffs from his back pocket. God, I wished this whole thing had happened under different circumstances. Like, tie me down and fuck me up, circumstances. The sight of him holding handcuffs and sporting wood sent a shiver racing across my skin, giving me goosebumps.

  It’s just Stockholm Syndrome, you crazy bitch! I told my panting pussy. Get it together!

  I didn't miss the way Easton's eyes drifted down to my pebbled nipples, barely covered beneath the wife-beater Bodie had lent me. I would've said no to the wolf’s offer of clothing, but I’d been too tired of parading around in that ratty dress to argue. The shorts he'd lent me fit perfectly—for a cheerleader or a playboy bunny. I was pretty sure my ass-cheeks would have been spilling out the bottom if the spandex material hadn't been clinging on for dear life.

  I held out my hands and waited impatiently for him to cuff me. "They call you Goldilocks because... you're a bear shifter?"

  "Ding, ding, ding!" he sang with a grin as he snapped the cuffs in place.

  My wrists didn't immediately burn and sting. "Ooh, not iron this time?"

  Easton shook his head and led us out into the tunnel. "Nope. It took some convincing, but Drake eventually gave in."

  "Why would you do that?" I asked, staring at our feet as we shuffled forward through the dirt that led to the stairs. Mine: bare, Easton's: in sneakers, and Larry's: in some curly-toed elfin getup. Jesus.

  Easton sighed. "I don't know. I guess… we kidnapped you to prove a point. That point isn't to prove that we're savage monsters. It's that things need to change. We shouldn't have to treat you badly because of that."

  I didn't answer. I wasn't even sure if I believed him. We never gave shifters any leeway; in fact, most shifters didn't even make it past the initial arrest. So why would they give us any? It had to be a trick. A ploy to make me lower my guard and then really hammer it home. I wasn't about to be caught with my pants down around these pricks—at least, metaphorically.

  Physically… maybe.

  Fuck, I was horny. I wondered if I could request a dino dildo? F
or some reason, I didn't imagine Bodie going for it. Not unless he got to watch. Which would only encourage this mate bullshit. But Easton… no, he probably wouldn’t either.

  "I have other things to attend to now, Mr. Beretta," Larry said, placing a gentle hand on Easton's shoulder.

  "Yeah, man, no worries. We'll just be in the conference room keeping an eye on the munchkins."

  Ha! Munchkins. That totally made my wicked witch reference all the richer.

  Larry waved goodbye, slowly heaving himself even further up the stairs, while I followed Easton to the door. Muffled shouts and giggles filled the room beyond. Sounds of objects clanging and banging together. If I didn't know there were kids on the other side, I might be tempted to think an arrest was going on.

  Easton cracked the door open, and immediately, they started.

  "Uncle Easton!" one of them shouted, running over and jumping on him.

  I took a step back. There were at least twelve kids in here. I hadn’t spent a day with little people since I was one myself. There were a couple Chinese boys on one side, a kid with a wild afro in the middle, and several brunettes and blondies sprinkled around. One shifter kid was even sporting some porcupine quills instead of hair. Ouch.

  "Are you here to play?" one boy asked.

  "Can I be Elsa and you be Marshmallow?" a little girl with blonde pigtails ran up and begged, lacing her fingers together.

  Porcupine head noticed me and his eyes flashed wide. "Oh em gee, you brought the prisoner up! Can we play shifters and mages?"

  Next to him a little girl’s nose morphed into a wolf nose and she sniffed at me. So… they had a mix of shifter kids in here. Interesting.

  Easton shook off the kid that was hanging on him and held up both hands for silence. To my amazement, the menagerie actually quieted down a bit. "Aubry's here because I have to look after all of you at the same time and I can't be in two places at once. And no, we're not playing shifters and mages. I don't think she'd understand the rules."

  I scoffed and raised a brow, settling down at a pub table off to the side of the room. Though the room didn’t look like it was typically used for kids, folding chairs and whatnot had been moved to the sides to create a makeshift playspace in the center of the room, it didn’t look like that bad of a spot. Easton sat in the remaining chair, while the children all gathered around like it was fucking story time or something.

  "I don't know. I'm pretty smart. I'm sure I can figure the rules out," I deadpanned.

  "See?" the kids argued. "She likes playing the prisoner! Please, Uncle Easton!"

  Ha. Those kids were right. But I only liked playing prisoner with a consenting dom. One who would unlock me and let me go at the end of a scene. Not this way.

  Easton sighed and shook his blond head, grinning all the while. "Sorry, guys. Not tonight."

  They moaned and groaned, and a few of them wandered off to play with blocks. Porcupine head pulled out a little pouch that looked like it might hold marbles. But he started to pull out toy car after toy car, until he and his buddies all had two each. His pouch must have had an Expansion Spell on it. I briefly wondered if the spell would be big enough for me to sneak inside and escape. But, he’d probably still have to be able to carry whatever weight the bag held. So, maybe not.

  While the other kids wandered off, one fierce little girl with wild black curls stared at me inquisitively. I was about to ask her what she wanted, when she blurted out her question. "Why'd you kill my cousin?"

  Shock slapped me across the face like a flyswatter, momentarily stunning me. "Excuse me?"

  "El Fuego," she explained. "He was my cousin. Why did you kill him?"

  "Uh…" I half chuckled as I wondered how to get out of this precarious conversation.

  There was nothing I could say that she'd understand. Nothing she'd agree with, anyway. Plus, she didn’t look more than eight. She didn't need to be thinking about shit like that. Even shifter kids deserved a carefree childhood.

  "It's alright," Easton encouraged me. "You can tell Mariana your truth. There are multiple angles to every story, and neither side is definitively right or wrong, just different."

  As I stared at him, my brows furrowed. Where the hell had the awkward actor gone, and who the hell was this confident philosopher?

  "Right…" I directed my attention back to the little girl, my tongue suddenly dry. "Well, your cousin broke the law. He stole something that didn't belong to him, and he tried to use it to hurt thousands of people."

  Her nose scrunched in confusion. "Hiding the shifters from the mages wouldn't hurt anybody," she replied uncertainly.

  Is that what they'd been telling the kids? Feeding them lies to ensure they had new generations of adamant soldiers lined up? For fuck's sake.

  "That's right, sweetheart, hiding wouldn't hurt anyone. But that's not what they're using them for. That's a lie." I said softly.

  "No, it isn't." Mariana shook her brunette head defiantly. "My daddy told me."

  I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. Fine. I’d give her the eight-year-old level reasoning. "Plus," I added, "he tried to kill me first." Why the hell I couldn't just let it go was beyond me. I just felt this ridiculous need to prove myself to the girl. "It was technically self-defense."

  "He was definitely tough," she agreed with me in a roundabout way.

  The little girl with pigtails looked up from her blocks and eyed me intently. "Why did the mages set my friend's house on fire? She wasn't doing anything wrong."

  Oh fuck, the friend hadn't died, had she? My stomach twisted at the thought. Killing adult criminals was one thing, but murdering innocent children was another altogether.

  "Mages don't set fires, sweetie," I explained. "Summer fae can, but we don't go around burning down shifter neighborhoods, either. It must have been an accidental fire."

  "It wasn't." She stuck her little nose in the air, channeling a pretty solid Elsa as she gave me the cold shoulder. I was mildly impressed, but mostly annoyed.

  "Did your friend live?" I couldn't help but ask.

  "Yeah, but she had to get a new haircut because her long hair burned off. Her mom died, though. And her dad—"

  Easton sighed and interrupted. "Her dad is upset, as any father would be."

  Pigtail girl nodded and got back to building her block tower.

  I glanced across the table at Easton. "Take me back to the cell?"

  "What? Why?"

  Seriously? He was cute, but apparently a little slow in the uptake. The muscle, not the brains, clearly.

  "Because I'd rather sit in mind-numbing silence than suffer another round of the Spanish Inquisition led by ill-informed and incredibly stubborn children."

  He blinked, his blue eyes flashing with what looked like amusement.

  "What?" I snapped.

  He chuckled. "I'm not taking you back to your cell, Princess. I think this could be good for you. Open your eyes to the other side of the story."

  "This is not another side of the story," I hissed. "These are blatant lies that you're feeding your own youth to fuel a pointless war. If shifters could control themselves and not risk exposing supernaturals to humans on a daily basis, then maybe they'd have a case. But they can't, and they don't."

  Easton glared at me before looking away and scratching the golden stubble along his jaw. "So… what? All shifters just need to die? It doesn't matter if it's El Fuego or his baby cousin Mariana—kill them all? It doesn't matter if it's Suzie's friend's mom, or Suzie herself—let them all burn?"

  Suzie must’ve been the pig-tailed girl, aka Elsa. And Mariana must’ve been El Fuego’s argumentative cousin with the ebony ringlets. Got it.

  Anger built in my chest like flames, fanning through my blood. But not flames that would kill a fucking child. "No, that's not at all what I said."

  "Oh, but it was absolutely dripping off the words you didn't say," he bit back. "You want to eliminate all shifters. Why not start with the kids?"

  He gestured to the room full
of shifter children, some of whom had been eavesdropping and now held terrified expressions on their little faces.

  "That's enough!" I whisper-shouted at him. "You're freaking them out."

  "Who cares?" he mocked. "They're just shifters. They need to die, anyway, according to you. And better sooner than later, right? That way they can't make any teensy tiny mistakes and fuck everything up. God knows, mages and other magic users are perfect and never make mistakes."

  My nostrils flared as I glared at him.

  Okay, scratch my earlier thoughts. Easton had officially moved down into Drake's camp. Which only left Bodie to be attracted to, and I hated that more than anything since it went beyond the scope of reality and took away my free will.

  Basically, I was back to square one—hating these assholes.

  Still, a strange emotion swirled through me, making my internal fire die down. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but I knew I hated the way it made me feel. Almost like… guilt or shame.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Easton reach his hand across the table and brush fingers with mine. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Tinkerbell. I'm just trying to make you see."

  On instinct, I pulled away, and for some reason, that strange, painful emotion intensified into near sadness. Heat burned across my cheeks and water welled along the rim of my eyes, but I'd be damned if I fucking cried in front of this whole room of shifters.

  I took a deep breath and reiterated my previous request. "Take me back to my cell."

  "Why are so many shifters homeless?" another child asked, a small boy with bowl-cut brown hair. God, I thought that style had gone out back in the nineties.

  As much as I hated the question, I was actually glad for a slight change in subject. "Probably because they can't afford to pay their rent," I explained, keeping my voice carefully neutral. "Just like humans and mages, if we can't pay, we can't stay."

  "Yeah, but I never saw a homeless mage," the boy argued.

  Me either, kid.

  Mages were far too important—and therefore wealthy—to be destitute. But money was a difficult subject to broach with full-grown adults. I certainly didn't want to discuss it with a child.