Fae Captive (The Mage Shifter War Book 1)

by Elle Middaugh

  "Can I see your wings?" another kid asked, I couldn't tell which.

  I nodded, and a small smile crept onto my lips. I stole a glance at Easton who smiled encouragingly. His pearly teeth and his baby blue eyes practically sparkled, cooling that aching burn in my chest—yet another weird sensation I didn't appreciate this shifter making me feel.

  I stood and slowly turned around, allowing my wings to slip out from two slits in the back of the white tank top and spread to their full potential. Light filtered through the gossamer material and sparkled like prisms on the floor. I loved my wings.

  "Whoa!" some of the kids cried, and almost all of them moved closer.

  "So, you can really fly?" a boy asked.

  I glanced over my shoulder and nodded.

  "Just like a bird shifter?" another clarified.

  I shrugged. "I suppose so, yeah."

  "Can you carry someone and fly?" a different kid asked; there were so many of them, it was impossible to keep track of who was who.

  Easton chuckled, his deep voice filling the room with warmth. "No, she's not giving you a ride, Pip."

  Okay, well almost impossible. Apparently, the muscled marshmallow could tell them apart.

  "Can we watch Frozen, Uncle Easton?" the pig-tailed Suzie asked sweetly.

  "Again?" he groaned, scrubbing a broad hand across his face.

  Suzie ran over and bounced into his lap. "Yes! I love it so so much. Please?"

  "Ah. Fine," Easton grumbled as he stood and lifted her high in the air. She giggled as some of the other kids gathered around Easton's feet, very much like puppies at the feet of their owner. Shuffling carefully, he deposited the girl on the floor near the flatscreen TV and grabbed the remote.

  A low whine touched the air as the screen lit up and came to life, black at first, but quickly morphing into the scene of another house fire. Local news channel eight was on the scene—human news.

  Easton frowned and turned up the volume.

  "There seems to be yet another accidental house fire here in Skid Row. Authorities believe it started with a backyard grill due to the extreme drought California has suffered this summer. They advise using caution when handling matches and lighters, and—"

  Easton flicked the channel over to the shifter magical news, channel two. Mages owned channel one.

  "Uncle Easton!" the kids cried in frustration. "We want Frozen!"

  He held out his hand and shushed them. "Hang on. Just give me a minute."

  When I saw the image on the screen, my throat clogged like a wad of toilet paper stuffed in a drainpipe. My goddamned parents sat regally behind a long desk opposite a popular newscaster named Sharon Streamer conducting an interview of some sort. Their postures were stick straight. Their button noses were high in the air.

  What the actual fuck?

  "Do shifters usually get mage news?" I asked Easton cautiously. My heart pumped in my chest, like a plunger trying to dislodge that freaking wad of soggy toilet paper.

  He turned to me, his expression worried and confused. "No."

  The cameraman got a closeup of Sharon for a moment, all snazzed up in a pink skirt suit, her big brown hair riding her heavily made up face like a wave. "King Indigo and Queen Katrina are here today with a very important announcement for supernaturals across Los Angeles and all of California. Your Majesties?"

  The camera panned over to my parents once more who stared straight ahead with perfectly practiced smiles.

  "Good evening." Dad addressed the magical world with a casual calm he never directed at me. "We would like to announce that our daughter, Princess Aubry of the Summer Fae Court, has officially stepped down from her position as Chief Enforcer of the Mage Police to pursue other opportunities."

  My fucking heart stopped dead.

  Other opportunities?

  What the hell did they think this was? A vacation? A job opportunity? I'd been kidnapped for fuck’s sake! Their only daughter, abducted and held hostage by the enemy, and they acted like it meant nothing to them. Like I meant nothing…

  "We wish her all the best in her future endeavors," Dad continued. "And we are delighted to announce that Candace Wintern, Princess of the Winter Fae Court, has stepped in to take her place."

  11

  Aubry

  I turned and fled, not toward an exit, but toward my cell.

  So many painful thoughts rushed through my mind at once. I tried to escape them, but it was like trying to dodge machine-gun fire.

  Memories of my parents flooded my brain. Training with my father. Getting my ass beat on the practice mats, every bone in my body aching from the strain. Him kicking my ribs and telling me, "A shifter won’t have mercy. Neither can I. Get up."

  The memories shuffled as I ran down the stairs, each step rattling my legs like my mother’s tight-lipped frown used to rattle my heart. "Come on, Aubry. Candace would do whatever she needed to get this position. You can’t even muster up the courage to go on one little date—"

  A new memory flashed and my ex-fiance’s face darted into my mind, making me stumble on the stairs.

  Matthew was a mage with dark brown curls, cold blue eyes, and a bleach-white smile. I’d dated him at my mother’s urging, hoping it would get me a promotion that would put me in line for the chief enforcer position. But somehow, that snake charmer had cast a little spell that had his snake dancing in my basket two seconds later.

  Everything snowballed and went downhill after that. Engagement rings and a tiny apartment… all before my mother could swoop in and tell me no.

  She wanted to, I could see it in every broken blood vessel in her angry eyes, but it was too late. Even if she had said no, I wouldn’t have listened to her, especially when Dad encouraged the arrangement. But I should have. It would have been one of the few times that ice-cold social climber had been right.

  Because one asshole could always spot another.

  It took less than six months for Matthew to cheat. Less than a year for him to get promoted and leave me. And over five years for me to get over it. I still wasn’t over it. I hated him, and the pain he’d caused would haunt me for a lifetime.

  The ache of that betrayal throbbed in my chest next to the new, freshly opened wound. I was surprised I wasn’t bleeding out. With the way my emotions poured like a hot, crimson river, it felt like I should be.

  My parents just turned their backs on me.

  I repeated that mantra in my head, trying to rationalize what I just witnessed.

  They turned their backs on their only child.

  But I couldn’t rationalize shit. I was too angry and confused. I was drowning in emotion and couldn’t breathe much less think clearly.

  "Aubry," Easton called out behind me.

  I ignored him

  "Aubry!" he yelled.

  Still, I didn’t respond. I flew instead, down the tunnel until I saw the iron bars. Closed iron bars. Some idiot had shut the door to my cell. And I couldn't open it myself without scalding my hand on that putrid, godawful metal.

  Whoever had invented iron deserved to be drawn and quartered slowly while the Spongebob Squarepants theme song played over and over.

  I sank down into a crouch in the tunnel, leaning against the packed dirt wall for support.

  Tears didn't stream down my face, though I expected that they should. I just felt empty. Hollow. My head got that floating feeling, like this wasn’t reality and I was in a dream. Or a nightmare.

  Easton stopped just beside me, his heavy feet like bricks. The guy didn't know how to walk softly. He didn't know how to sneak up on someone. There wasn't a true deceptive bone in his body. Which made the fact that they'd sent him out to lure me in all the more insulting.

  The fact that I'd fallen for it?

  I shook my head and pressed my cheek against the dirt, turning away from him. Maybe my family was right to be disappointed in me. To leave me behind.

  "Tell me what's wrong."

  I heard him sit down on the step behind me, then cla
sp his hands together. I could picture him doing it. Easton was always wringing his hands like some damn worried mother. Better than my own. She only wrung her hands over what other people would think when I messed up. Mom would have made the perfect Hollywood starlet.

  I dug a finger into the wall, wondering if I could dig my own grave by hand, crawl inside and just die. That sounded more appealing than talking to Easton. Or breaking out and facing the family that had just publicly fucking forsaken me.

  I wasn't even worth a ransom? A trade?

  The tears started then. I tried to keep them silent, but a tiny sob escaped.

  Easton immediately stood from his step, came forward, and put his hand on my shoulder. When I didn't move to stop him, the giant sat down next to me and wrapped an arm around me.

  The last person to hug me when I cried was Tee. And her hug was nothing compared to the strong, security-laced feeling I got when Easton wrapped me up like he was trying to shield me from all the world's spitballs and soul-shredding hatred.

  Despite myself, I ended up leaning into him and crying harder.

  "You can't be nice to me," I sobbed into the front of his cotton shirt. It was soft as hell and it smelled like Irish Spring soap. I dug my face into his pecs shamelessly. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right that these criminal jerkwads could be nice when my own parents...

  Easton's arms came around my back. He was careful not to bend my wings as he stroked down my spine. "Shh, shh."

  Eventually, my cries grew softer.

  That's when Easton spoke.

  "My dad always hated me." His voice was soft, tentative. "I'm a golden bear, and a blond kid. My dad's a brown bear, and a brown-haired guy. It didn't matter to him that my mom's grandmother was fair. He never believed I was his."

  I paused, frozen where I clutched at him. Why the hell was he telling me this? Wonder, confusion, and downright panic filled me. What was I supposed to say?

  "Goldilocks is the name the guys call me now, and I can stand it because I know they're just yanking my chain, trying to toughen me up. They're trying to erase what it used to mean. But that's what my dad used to call me when he'd beat me. He'd tell me I wasn't man enough, wasn't bear enough. He'd tell me he hoped I didn't make it through the winter."

  There was a hitch in Easton's voice and I looked up. Even with only a single light bulb down here, I could see his gaze was glassy. His blue eyes were focused on the end of the tunnel in front of us where the earth floor gave way to cement stairs. His eyes traced the yellow extension cord that trailed down those stairs until they came to the tunnel we sat in.

  "Parents say shit and do shit," he muttered, dragging his fingers up and down my spine once more. But this time, I wasn't sure if he was touching me to comfort me, or to comfort himself. "They don't realize the power they have to do good. Or evil. They don't realize that we remember every damn time they say shit to us." He shook his head. Then he finally adjusted his gaze and looked at me.

  I didn't know what to say. Because it was true, what he’d said. Parents held so much power over their children. Every glance, every word, every action. Praise was as rare and precious as a diamond in my family. It sounded like it had been the same, maybe even worse, for Easton.

  But awful family members? That wasn’t something fae discussed. You didn’t mention your weaknesses. He’d just handed me a way to manipulate him. A way to hurt him. Why?

  Because he sees you’re hurt, idiot, my heart snapped.

  But he shouldn’t care if I was hurt.

  I was his prisoner.

  Nothing more.

  No amount of feeding me Pho or taking me to babysit pack members could change the fact that we were mortal enemies.

  Could it?

  Easton must have been okay with my lack of a response, because he kept on talking. "I left my family years ago and haven't looked back."

  "Left your family?" I leaned back and studied his face. Who could leave their family and still have honor? Among the fae, if you abandoned your family—like my cousin Kira in Russia—you were spurned by all fae. You were a traitor.

  My question must have registered in my expression. Easton reached out and gently smudged away a tear that remained on my left cheek. "If they're not good for you, they're not good for you. There's another family out there, waiting. Other people who will have your back and make you whole."

  I swallowed the giant, sour, garlic shaped knot that rose in my throat.

  Not true. Not true. He’s trying to turn me.

  I took a deep breath and faced the bars of my cage. I tried to remind myself that these men only wanted to use me… just like my parents. I was just a stepping stone for their own prestige.

  "You’re wrong." My voice came out scratchier and weaker than I would have liked. I scooted away from Easton then.

  "Maybe," he said. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe they'll betray me. But, for seven years I've been right about them. Ever since... the night Drake found me... he's had my back."

  Easton's voice broke on that last statement and I knew something about that night had haunted him. I could see the shadows of ghosts lingering in his eyes. The hollowness in his features, like a graveyard.

  "What—" I cut myself off from asking what happened. He wouldn't tell me. I stared down at my hands, interlocking my fingers.

  The silence drew on until I felt it like a thick blanket over my head, making me hot and claustrophobic, making it hard to breathe.

  "I tried to kill myself," Easton admitted quietly.

  My eyes flew to his beautiful, pain-carved face.

  He stared at the dirt wall. "Stupid, I know. But I did. Drake stopped me."

  "I bet you hated him." I didn't know what else to say. ‘I'm sorry’ didn't sound right, it just sounded idiotic. There was no good response. So, against my better judgement, I reached out and rubbed the top of Easton's hand. Unlike I had done upstairs, he didn’t pull away.

  "Yeah, I fought him that night." Easton gave a small chuckle. "He clipped me with his wing." He lifted my hand and traced my fingertips over a small scar on the bottom of his chin. The subtle touch flooded my body with heat and confusion.

  "I'm sure you got in a couple good hits yourself," I said, trying not to focus on the stubble that scraped over my finger. I tried to think of anything except for the sharp line of his jaw or how his hard pecs moved when he sucked in a breath just before he laughed.

  "Yeah, I did," he said, grinning. "It was a pretty epic fight."

  "Does he have any weaknesses?" I asked, too casually.

  That only made Easton laugh harder. "Yup. Tons. Try stabbing his pinkie toe on the full moon."

  I rolled my eyes. "Fine. That was too obvious. But I had to try."

  "I'm glad to see you trying."

  "Why?" I furrowed my brow.

  "Because it means we haven't broken you." His words came out breathy.

  I leaned back, feeling the tension between us amp up.

  "Isn't the point to break me?" I asked, my voice catching.

  He tilted his head and considered his words before he answered. "Maybe before I knew you."

  "But now?"

  "Now, I think it would be a shame for the woman who took on three shifters to crack." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing up the stairs. "Don't think about those assholes on the TV."

  And just like that, the thoughts and feelings came rushing back.

  "Don't remind me about them, then," I snapped.

  "They only want to use you."

  "And you're so different?"

  "No." Easton's reply was so curt that I didn't even have a retort ready.

  I was so shocked, my jaw dropped. Who answered a question like that honestly?

  "I'm not different," he agreed. "But I wanna be."

  I stood. This was too much for me to handle. Too much for me to take in. Emotions were punching me, making my chest feel like a speed bag.

  "Can you open the door, please?" I asked quietly.

  "Yeah.
Uh. Sure," Easton stood, awkwardly rubbing his hands down his pants, as if his palms had grown sweaty. He leaned around me and gently pushed the cell door open. But as he did, I realized just how huge he was.

  We'd flirted at the bar, and I'd mentally mocked him then. He’d held me in the tunnel, and I’d accepted his soothing touch. But standing in front of him, I felt so tiny. My head reached his ribcage. His fingers were probably as thick as most of the dicks I'd ever had. His chest... one of his pecs could be my pillow. He could tuck me into his left side and I'd be all but invisible to people on the right.

  Standing in front of him and realizing how powerful he was... triggered the submissive in me. I licked my lips as my nipples pebbled.

  Easton had just confessed a shit ton of emasculating stuff to me. I shouldn't be turned on. I hated that emotional bullcrap, that Eeyore-like ‘poor me’ shit that everyone pulled. I should be disgusted right now. Annoyed. I wasn't thinking clearly. That was the only explanation for the heat that was forming between my thighs.

  "Um... thanks," I muttered. I didn't even have to duck under his arm to go into my cell, he was that big.

  I stopped when I was in the middle and just stared at the wall, suddenly aware that Easton was about to leave, and I didn't want to be alone.

  Fuck me.

  I turned, clearing my throat. "Will you stay?"

  The stupid question came out so soft even I could hardly hear it.

  But Easton's shifter ears didn't have any problems. "Sure."

  He walked in and sat down gingerly on my cot, testing it to ensure it would hold his weight before he relaxed and leaned back against the concrete wall.

  I felt weird just standing there in front of him while he watched me, so I made my way over and sat beside him on the half-assed bed. He was so huge that our legs touched.

  I stared down at the ground instead of at our point of contact. "My parents suck, obviously."

  "Obviously." I could hear a smile in his reply, even though I didn’t glance up to see it.

  I shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant, though both of us already knew otherwise. But I refused to break down again. "Comes with the territory. Fae aren't known for being snuggly soft."