“Oh really? Do tell.” He twisted his hand and laced their fingers together.
With that simple gesture, all of her worries lifted from her shoulders. All of the ways that she had imagined this going terribly, terribly wrong just disappeared.
“This is all new to me,” she whispered. “I’ve never...”
Her voice trailed off as she tried to find the words. She stared at their joined hands, trying to figure out what to say.
In the end, she didn’t have to say anything.
“For me too,” he said, his thumb starting those calming circles on her wrist. “I’ve never either.”
His words gave her the courage to look up, to meet his gaze.
“Then we will figure it out,” she said.
He smiled as his thumb continued the lazy circles. “Together.”
Regan leaned into him. “Together.”
Chapter 1
There were days when Mel Ackerman wanted to disappear. Not the going invisible so no one could see her kind. She didn’t mind people looking at her. Kind of preferred it, actually.
No, she wanted to vanish like her dad. Without a trace.
She knew exactly what she would take. A backpack full of clothes, candy bars, and the stash of cash her mom kept less-than-hidden in the jar in the back of the freezer. There wasn’t much in the jar—a couple hundred bucks maybe—but it was enough to buy a bus ticket to anywhere but here.
Pick a town, change her name, and start over.
Her mom wasn’t a bad person. Probably the opposite. She worked hard—too hard—to keep a roof over their heads, to keep food on the table and clothes on Mel’s back.
Mel hated being a burden. She often wondered what her mom’s life would be like if not for that fateful fling eighteen years ago that left her pregnant and alone. Mel imagined she would live in a cute little apartment downtown, going out on weekends with her girlfriends instead of waiting tables at the local dive bar.
But almost as soon as she started to picture her mom’s perfect alternate life, Mel reminded herself that her mom had the absolute worst taste in men. The worst. Danielle Ackerman seemed to be on a quest to date every loser in a fifty mile radius.
Mel counted her deadbeat dad among the losers.
Raised voices from the other end of the house penetrated the thin walls of Mel’s bedroom.
The latest fight with the loser of the week. More than a week, Mel supposed, since her mom had actually married this one. That happened occasionally.
Mel flopped back on her bed and pushed her pillows to her ears. The current relationship with what’s-his-name—Mel had stopped bothering to try to remember after ex-stepdad number three—was particularly high on the screaming matches followed by a kind of making up that Mel tried very hard not to think about. If the fight went according to schedule, the shouting should be over in approximately twenty-seven minutes. Then peace would reign for a time, a few days at most, until the cycle started all over again.
Mel gave the relationship another six weeks before her mom filed for divorce. Big D number four in as many years.
Until the fighting died down, Mel wouldn’t leave her room. The last thing she wanted was to get caught in the crossfire. Once, with ex-stepdad number two, she had ventured into the kitchen for a root beer and wound up on the receiving end of his rage.
He hadn’t touched her—every man that entered their house knew Danielle would castrate them if they laid a finger on her daughter—but Mel had a problem with keeping her mouth shut. As in she never could seem to. That never ended well.
So she stayed out of the way as much as possible.
Mel pulled up a playlist on her phone and tried to fill her room with music. She drifted away.
She’d lost track of time when she heard the knocking. At first she thought it was the sounds of making up—she shuddered—and turned up her music to drown it out. But the knocking persisted. Got louder.
Finally, a loud ding on her phone.
Winnie: at ur front door
Winnie: let me in
Mel flew off the bed and raced through the house, not caring if she got caught in world war twenty-three. Winnie rarely came to Mel’s house—mostly because Mel didn’t want her to. Because Mel didn’t want anyone to see their house. It was in the dodgy part of town and was always in need of a mow, a paint job, and at least a dozen different repairs.
She would much rather hang out in the massive old Victorian Winnie lived in with her aunt. It was like something out of a novel.
But Mel hadn’t seen or heard form her best friend in days. Since they had been practically inseparable from the day Winnie transferred to Twin Pines Elementary, Mel had started to worry about her friend’s absence. House shame went out the window in favor of interrogation
“Winnie!” she cried as she yanked open the front door.
The pair were hugging before Mel could blink.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “I called you like ninety times. Your aunt said you went camping, which sounds totally not like you.”
“I’m fine,” Winnie told her. “I just had some things to take care of.”
Mel squeezed Winnie even harder into the hug.
“And where are my chapters?” Mel demanded. “You promised me new chapters. I’ve been refreshing your Wattpad profile so much I’m going to crash their server.”
Mel made a big joke about how much she loved Winnie’s books. But there was something about the fairy tales, the stories about powerful fae with magic in their blood, that pulled at her. That spoke to her and drove her want to know everything about them.
She was borderline obsessed.
When she read Winnie’s stories, she felt as if she was a part of them. As if she belonged in them.
Which was a totally ridiculous idea, and so she had never told Winnie that.
“About that…” Winnie pulled out of the hug, a serious look on her face. “We need to talk.”
Mel studied her best friend. Winnie hadn’t had the easiest life. Her parents died in a car accident when she was little, which was how she ended up living with her aunt and attending the same schools as Mel.
But for the most part, Winnie was a happy, carefree girl.
All traces of carefree were gone now. There were dark smudges under her bloodshot eyes, her hair was kind of a mess, and—most of all—she looked really worried. Mel’s heart rate sped up. It wasn’t like Winnie to be in such disarray.
“Are you in trouble?” Mel asked. “What can I do to help?”
Winnie shook her head slowly. “No, it’s nothing like that. Except…”
“Except?”
Winnie glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Can we go inside? It’s not safe to talk out here.”
“Not safe? Winnie, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
Winnie made a gesture toward the far end of the house. An instant later, a tall guy, maybe eighteen or nineteen from the look of him, emerged from the bushes.
He was, in a word, gorgeous. Tall, tan, with short blond hair that had been shaved on the sides. Chiseled cheeks and dark eyes. His broad shoulders filled out some kind of uniform that Mel didn’t recognize. Navy blue, with light green stripes forming an X across his chest.
He looked equal parts tempting and dangerous. Like something straight out a military recruitment ad.
“Who is this guy?” Mel asked Winnie.
Winnie turned a wide-eyed stare at her. “You can see him?”
“Of course I can see him.” Mel gestured at the six-foot-something guy. “He’s standing right there.”
Winnie exchanged a look with the guy. Something flickered in his expression—a question, maybe, or an answer. Whatever it was, Winnie understood.
Turning back to Mel, she said, “Inside. We should talk inside.”
Mel shrugged, and stepped back into the house. She didn’t know this guy, but if Winnie trusted him then Mel did too. Mel had never known anyone with better judgment.
Plus, there was something about him that set Mel at ease.
Things were quiet inside, which meant that her mom and the future-ex-stepdad were probably sound asleep by now.
Still, to avoid any potential confrontations, Mel led Winnie and the guy to her bedroom at the opposite end of the house.
When they were inside, the guy checked around the room, like he was doing a security check. Like he was Winnie’s personal bodyguard or something. He checked in the closet, under the bed, even behind the flimsy curtains that did their best to make her tiny window look more impressive.
“Winnie, what the heck is—”
“The room is clear,” the guy said to Winnie.
“Clear?” Mel watched as he marched to her room door and stood, feet apart and hands clasped behind his back, like a solider on sentry duty. She forced her attention back to her friend. “Winnie?”
Winnie took Mel’s hand and led her toward the bed. “You might want to sit down for this.”
Mel pulled her hand away. “Screw that. Tell me what’s going on.”
Winnie glanced nervously at the guy again.
“Now,” Mel growled.
The look Winnie gave her was a cross between terror and pity.
“What do you actually know about your dad?”
Mel jerked back. That came entirely out of nowhere. Mel didn’t like to talk about her dad. Ever. Partly because he was a deadbeat loser who left her pregnant mom to fend for herself. But also because she didn’t know much about him. Neither did her mom. She had a first name—Bel—and fifty percent of his DNA. That’s it.
“Stop beating around the bush, Win,” Mel said, swinging her desk chair around and sitting down on it backward. “Just tell me.”
Winnie took a deep breath and then began.
“You know those stories I write?” she asked. “The ones I made up about the magical fae?”
“Of course I know them,” Mel replied. “Am I not the one who’s always begging you to write more?”
Winnie’s eyebrows lifted and she gave Mel an odd smile as she said, “Turns out, I didn’t make them up.”
“What?” Mel shook her head. “What do you mean? You plagiarized them?”
That didn’t sound like Winnie at all. Win was a by-the-book kind of girl. She had kept Mel out of detention—and probably juvie—more times than either of them could count.
Winnie reached out to place her hand on Mel’s knee. “No. They’re true.” She gave Mel a strange smile. “The fairy tales are all true. I didn’t make them up, I dreamed them.”
“Hate to break it to you, Win,” Mel said, flicking a glance at the soldier boy stationed at her door, “but dreams are made up.”
“Not mine,” Winnie insisted. “When I dream, I see the fae world. Things that are really happening.”
“That’s crazy talk,” Mel told her friend, even as some not-so-tiny part of her wanted this to be true. “Fairy’s aren’t real. Magic isn’t real.”
Winnie turned to soldier boy. “Show her.”
Mel thought she saw another brief look pass over his chiseled face—it might have been pain. Or annoyance. But just as quickly it was gone, replaced by the bland look of a solider on guard duty. He gave Winnie a curt nod.
Then, right before her eyes, as she watched, he transformed into a coyote.
Chapter 2
Liam MacNeil knew three things about the human realm: it was crowded, it was dangerous, and it was the last place he wanted to be.
Except for his monthly sojourn to the sanctuary, to pass his la ainmhi under the protection of the Seer Guard, he had not left the fae veil in years. The fae realm represented safety, in more ways than one. If he had any say in the matter, he would never leave again.
But when your prince commands you to accompany the future queen of your clan, and she in turn commands you to transform into your ainmhi, there was little choice to be had.
He sat quietly and fought the urge to follow the scent of field mouse that had filled his nostrils the moment he shifted. It took more of his concentration than he wished to admit to keep his ainmhi’s natural instincts at bay.
To her credit, the human girl did not scream.
Then again, Melania Ackerman was not entirely human. With the blood of a fae god running through her veins, perhaps she was more prepared for this than he imagined.
She stared at him, watching him with light blue eyes as wide as a full moon. Her mouth hung open slightly and, though he couldn’t be certain from this distance, but he rather thought she wasn’t breathing.
She spun on Winnie, sending her dark blond waves swinging. “What just happened?”
“He’s a fae. Like from my stories.”
“That’s not…”
Her voice trailed off, as though she couldn’t quite bring herself to finish her denial.
“Magic,” Winnie told her friend. “It’s all real.”
Liam had expected the god’s daughter to be fearful. Or at the very least concerned or even angry. But if she were experiencing any of those feelings, he would have sensed it. She was half human. Such negative emotions would feed his power. They would tingle through his body like lightning.
Instead, all he felt was Winnie’s worry.
Her worry was understandable. With her prince nearly killed by a clan traitor, his younger brother kidnapped and nearly killed by the same, and now the entire fae realm at risk with Ultan’s plans to raise the dark clan, Liam would have been concerned if she weren’t worried.
Still, she managed to keep it under control.
Even that small source of power made his magic quiver. He bit his canine tongue in order to counterbalance the pleasure he felt from the power surge. A pleasure he could not afford to feel.
“I don’t…” Melania shook her head, as though trying to shift the pieces into place in her mind. “Real?”
“Yes, they’re—”
A loud crashing noise echoed from somewhere else in the house.
In an instant, Liam was back in his fae form, blade drawn and reaching for the door handle.
“Remain here,” he instructed the ladies.
“Liam?” Winnie asked, her worry elevated.
He reached for the door handle, but before he could twist it open, Winnie’s friend was at his side with her palm against the door.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
He frowned at her. Where she expressed no emotion before, now his magic pulsed with the power of her outrage.
“Mel, it’s okay,” Winnie said.
“No,” Mel replied, not taking her eyes off Liam, “it’s not okay. There is a crazy coyote guy carrying a massive sword in my bedroom. This is far from okay.”
“He’s not crazy,” Winnie said.
At the same time, Liam growled, “Release the door.”
“Not until you two tell me what’s going on,” Mel said defiantly.
“I will,” Winnie said. “I promise.”
There was another crash from within the house. This one sounded closer to the bedroom. Ultan or one of his operators could be upon them at any moment.
He could not afford to wait.
With his free hand, he grabbed the human girl around the wrist, intending to push her out of his way. The moment his flesh connected with her, he felt such a jolt through his body that he actually moved back a step.
Judging by the look on her face, she had felt something similar.
What just happened?
A third crashing noise jerked him back on alert. He yanked open the door and charged into the house.
“Wait,” Mel called out, chasing after him. “It’s only my—”
Her words cut off abruptly as they reached the small kitchen, where a middle-aged man in saggy boxer shorts stood in front of the refrigerator, drinking straight from a carton of orange juice.
Liam sneered in disgust.
The man looked straight through him.
“Hiya, Melly,” he said with
an overly-friendly smile that for some inexplicable reason made Liam want to punch him.
Mel jerked her chin in greeting at the man. She gave Liam an odd look as she walked past. “Just grabbing a root beer.”
The man stepped out of her way at the refrigerator. Then proceeded to ogle her as she bent down to get something from the bottom shelf. Liam fought the overwhelming urge to run the lech through with his blade.
He had a feeling that disemboweling was too good for this man.
Moments later, they were back in the bedchamber, where Winnie waited patiently.
“He didn’t see you,” Melania stated.
Liam returned to his position guarding the door.
“He can’t,” Winnie explained. “Only those with fae blood can.”
Mel walked up to Liam, stood toe to toe. She was several inches shorter than he, but she did not appeared cowed by the disparity. In fact, she seemed to dare him to come down to her level.
“Looked right through you, like you weren’t even there,” she said with a hint of awe in her voice. “He didn’t see you.”
She stared up at him, as though demanding a response. And for some reason, he felt compelled to give her one.
“No,” Liam replied, “he did not.”
“How is that—?” She spun on Winnie. “Wait. What did you say?”
Winnie gave her friend a gentle smile. “Only those with fae blood can see through the glamour.”
“Glamour?” Melania shook her head, then twisted slightly to one side. “So you have fae blood?”
“My case is…kind of special,” Winnie explained. “We don’t know any of the specifics, but we think my ability to see the fae—and to dream their stories—was probably granted to one of my ancestors for service to a fae. It’s a spell.”
Winnie stared at her friend, waiting for her to reach the secondary conclusion.
Liam tried to imagine what it would be like to learn about his world for the first time. Despite their penchant for reading tales of witchcraft and werewolves, humans were so far removed from the magics of the earth that they rarely felt even the faintest ripples of its power. It must be quite a shock to learn that such magics truly exist.
Darkly Fae: The Moraine Cycle Page 21
