by Erica Ridley
Several moments passed. In silence.
The cell guard turned a page.
Another moment passed with only the rustling of a newspaper to break the silence. Daisy couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Trevor?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he laced his fingers underneath his head and bent his legs so that both his knees and his gaze pointed toward the crimson canopy.
She frowned. “Don’t ignore me. I’m trying to help.”
He reached out one hand and slid the bed curtains closed.
Daisy shook her head. “Humans.” With another quick glance at the still-reading guard, she held her hand to her shoulder. When her where-frog hopped onto her palm, she whispered, “In.”
When she materialized on the other side of the bars, she knelt to let Bubbles roam the cold marble floor. She tiptoed over to the bed and threw back the curtains. “Boo.”
“Aargh!” Trevor jumped so high she feared he’d crack his head. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
She climbed on top of the bed and re-closed the curtains, so as not to broadcast her presence should the troll in the hall put down his newspaper long enough to glance inside the containment cell. “Considering whether or not it’s worth the risk to rescue you.”
“What?” Shadows hid his expression, but his doubtful tone spoke volumes. “Really?”
She sat on her heels between his open legs, her knees brushing the bare feet poking from the ankles of Trevor’s khakis on either side of her. She tried not to think about the two of them sharing a mattress. Or at least not to give away the direction her mind had taken. “Of course. Didn’t you hear me say I’d be in big trouble if you testified against me?”
“Oh, right.” His words slid down her spine like ice. “For a moment there, I thought you might have an altruistic bone in your body.”
Stung, her fingers gripped the edge of her dress like claws. “Do you want to go back home or not? You may not realize it, but I’ll be in heaps of trouble either way.”
He sighed, his arms and legs flopping limp to the mattress. “I do realize it. And yet I’m asking you to do what it takes to get me out of here.” His voice crackled with defeat. “Please.”
Her breath caught. Did that mean he’d forgiven her?
She didn’t realize how much his forgiveness mattered to her until she finally received it. Her fingers lightened their death grip on her hem, as if they suddenly remembered how to relax.
If only it could last.
As she weighed the wisdom of a Great Escape, she tried to ignore the feel of her body nestled between Trevor’s outstretched legs. He felt so warm… And looked so good… And smelled so enticing… Good Gitche Manitou, she’d definitely need a ForgetMe orb of her own if she didn’t want to become the first tooth fairy stalker.
Staging a breakout was unquestionably stupid, but… the sooner she got out of his life, the sooner she could move on with hers. Right?
“Okay, here’s the plan.” The hope in his face came into focus as her eyes adjusted to the limited light. She tore her gaze from the curve of his mouth and forced her features into their most businesslike demeanor. “Step one, we try to get the entire case thrown out. At least for you, anyway.”
“And if step one doesn’t work?”
“Then I’ll be back. Step two, Bubbles will take us to my parents’ house, where—”
Trevor let out a humorless laugh. “We were just there, and look how well that worked out.” Both his legs brushed against hers, warming her calves and her belly. “Besides, I turned their place into a pumpkin and it shattered.”
“Welcome to Nether-Netherland.” She kept her palms immobile atop her thighs so she wouldn’t be tempted to touch him. Or at least not act on it. One of his legs continued to rub idly against hers, stoking embers they’d both be better off not igniting. “Mama’s re-conjured everything by now, no worries. Besides, it’s where Katrina is. And I’m going to need Mama’s help with the ForgetMe orb.” His legs stilled, no doubt recalling the same images imprinted in her own brain. Her voice trembled. “The last thing we need is another mix-up.”
“Speaking of which…” Trevor’s hand slipped into his cargo pocket. “You forgot this.”
Before Daisy could blink, the Himalayan Lust Charm rested innocently in his palm, as though he expected her to reach out and grab it. Adam offering Eve the apple. Her wide-eyed expression reflected back at her from its shiny, golden surface.
Lust charms blessedly being single-use objects, she and Trevor were in no danger of an involuntary repeat. Any lovemaking from this point forward—not that she expected any more lovemaking, mind—would be of their mutual desire. And risky as all Hades, considering the troll just down the hall. Although, if she were honest, the idea of fooling around behind a closed curtain with the guard none the wiser was more than a little sexy. She wasn’t reckless enough to start any shenanigans… But if Trevor so much as hinted he’d like to get naked, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from launching into his arms and begging for Round Two. May Artemis save her soul. Daisy closed her eyes and tried to think of formulas and matrices—anything but the sexy man whose warm limbs flanked her own.
His husky voice lured her ever closer. “I can’t stop thinking about your body beneath mine.”
Her eyes snapped open. Had he read her mind? Or was the Himalayan Lust Charm somehow still active? She snatched the peach from his open hand and stared a hole through it, waiting for the lust bomb to hit. No flowery scent, no clenching of the loins, no total loss of her judgment. Nothing dangerous at all, except the normal lust bomb Trevor incited just by existing. But the peach in her palm? Ordinary, run-of-the-mill golden fruit. Completely harmless.
Trevor, on the other hand… not so harmless. His eyes stayed locked with hers, but his upturned hands lowered centimeter by centimeter until they nestled at the dip between her thighs. The barest scrap of fabric separated her skin from his knuckles. Her thighs heated beneath the backs of his hands. His breathing quickened. So did hers. He didn’t pull away.
Why was he doing this? Daisy gave the peach another nervous sniff. Everybody in Nether-Netherland knew lust charms had a shorter lifespan than twinkle flies. But the heat of his skin and the expression on his face suggested an entirely different scenario. One requiring a few less clothes.
Wait. Trevor wasn’t from Nether-Netherland. He was from Indiana. Which meant he thought he was under the renewed influence of a Himalayan Lust Charm, but in reality, he was suffering from one hundred percent natural male desire.
She smiled. Nothing was hotter than that.
“I want you to know,” she said urgently, “you’re not under the influence of magic.”
He paused. “I’m not?”
The peach dropped from her hand and rolled off the mattress, tinkling like a child’s toy when it hit the floor. Neither of them reached for it.
* * *
She shook her head. “This is you. And me.”
“In that case…” A slow, sexy grin spread across his face. “What should we do about this?”
Now wasn’t the time to analyze. Now was the time for action. No, no, now was the time to hold strong. To resist indulging his passion. Even if she shared it. This was the absolute worst time to act on their desire. Yet her legs quivered beneath the soft weight of his hands. Or maybe they quivered for other reasons.
Daisy shook her head. She was going to put a stop to this nonsense very, very soon.
“You’re even beautiful when you think too hard.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb.
Her insides melted into molten mush.
Instead, Trevor’s legs tightened against her shins. His warm fingers closed around her arms and hauled her on top of him lengthwise.
He smiled again, keeping his teasing gaze on hers until she couldn’t help but smile back.
After all, her ankles crossed his ankles. Her thighs covered his thighs. His arousal pulsed against her belly. What more could she wa
nt? She swallowed. Lots more.
Her sensitized breasts pressed against his chest and she surrendered, as he’d known she would. He was irresistible. Without breaking eye-contact, she fumbled in her handbag. She tossed a pinch of clothes powder over her shoulder and divested herself of her dress. And while she was at it, a little more sparkling powder and… there.
Naked Trevor.
“Nice,” he murmured, his palms skating a feathery touch up the backs of her thighs, the curve of her bottom, the small of her back, the sides of her ribcage, the edges of her breasts. His fingers closed around her upper arms and with a sudden whoosh of breath from her lungs, he was on top.
She sucked in air, saturating her pores with his masculine scent. The truth was undeniable. Trevor wanted her. With or without a potent lust charm, he wanted her.
His lips smoothed into a delicious, lascivious smile. Daisy arched her brows.
“You sure do a lot of smiling,” she grumbled, but she curved her hand around the base of his neck and pulled him to her.
His tongue flicked into her open mouth, trapping her somewhere between the pillow and heaven. He nipped at her lower lip, pulling it into his mouth and suckling.
Daisy’s hungry fingers splayed across his skin, memorizing every angle and line of his tight, hot flesh. Inch by inch, her legs lifted. Her ankles crossed behind his thighs. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Oh, Venus, did she ever. Her wanton body wriggled against him, rubbing moist heat against his hard length.
Trevor grinned again, the jerk, and slammed his palms against the headboard to balance his weight. He captured her mouth in another searing kiss. Slowly, he lifted his hips so that the tip of his erection coasted down the aching heat between her thighs and nudged inside her—
“Miss le Fey,” came a sharp, gravelly voice from the containment center corridor. “You are not allowed in the captive’s cell. Desist at once or we will be forced to detain you as well.”
“Crap,” Daisy gasped, hurling herself out from under Trevor as though his body had suddenly caught fire.
Hers very nearly had.
“Coming,” she called and blushed at the unrestrained passion shadowing Trevor’s eyes.
“You could be,” he murmured, still reaching for her.
Ignoring him, Daisy tossed frantic handfuls of clothes powder around the mattress to clothe them both. She slid out the crack between the curtains so the impatient troll wouldn’t have a chance to see Trevor’s fully aroused state and form an even better picture of what the erstwhile tooth fairy was doing inside his captive’s cell.
She scooped the golden peach into her purse before meeting the troll’s gaze. Thank Bacchus it no longer worked. The last thing she needed was an interlude like that.
“Hurry up.” He raised thick black eyebrows and tapped a clipboard against the bars. “The hearing is at ten tomorrow morning. You can see the human in court when he testifies.”
“Fabulous,” she muttered, crossing to the other side of the bars without checking to see whether Trevor watched her. She could feel his gaze burning the back of her neck.
As Daisy knelt to motion for Bubbles, she tried not to think about the complications she and Trevor had been just about to make. He’d sure have plenty to testify about now.
The next morning, Trevor hurled himself against the unyielding metal bars keeping him trapped within a resort-style jail cell.
As before, nothing bent. Nothing moved. Nothing changed.
What had he thought? Muscle would triumph over magic in a fortuitous burst of cosmic irony, thereby allowing him to break free of his concierge-class confinement and, what?—Walk back to Earth?
With a muttered curse, he kicked at the ridiculous waterfall hologram lining one wall and lost his balance when the burbling fall of icy water drenched his leg.
Hologram waterfalls were actually wet? Damn it.
“Mr. Masterson?” growled the guard’s deep voice from the hallway. “You have a visitor.”
Trevor spun around on his dry heel, his raised foot sending a scattered spray across the marble floor. Great. Now he’d probably break his neck walking across the room and go down in infamy as the first human in Nether-Netherland felled by a hologram.
Fighting for composure, he step-sploshed, step-sploshed back to the metal bars. Yep, he had a visitor, all right.
And the tall, big-haired woman dwarfing the troll guard sure wasn’t Daisy.
First of all, the lacy, translucent wings fluttering between her shoulder blades were anything but cellophane and glitter glue.
Spare appendages aside, this woman was watchband-thin where Daisy was hourglass curved, drenched in floral perfume instead of shower-fresh, and buried under a metric ton of makeup instead of glowing with natural beauty.
He hoped like hell she wasn’t bearing Himalayan Lust Charms.
“Who are you?” he asked suspiciously.
“My name is Vivian Valdemeer,” she purred in a practiced, throaty voice. She motioned for the troll to give them a few meters of privacy before turning back to Trevor. Her crimson-painted lips stretched into an over-large smile, revealing matching rows of too-small ivory teeth. “I’m a very powerful tooth fairy.”
Trevor’s arms locked across his chest. Even if he weren’t an anthropologist, he doubted he’d trust someone who paid social calls to jail cells while dressed for a night at the Oscars. Surely morning was an odd time for floor-length ball gowns, even in Nether-Netherland.
“So you’re a tooth fairy,” he repeated with his most disinterested expression. “Is that supposed to impress me?”
“Trust me, darling.” Her lips contorted into a knowing smile. “It will.”
She brought her fist from behind her back, unfurled long, manicured fingers and blew a stream of glittery dust into the room.
He jumped backward, sliding on the slick marble with his slippery shoe. He grabbed one of the bedposts to break his fall. “What was that?” he demanded, checking to make sure he was still clothed. You never knew with fairies.
“Veritas vos liberabit,” Ms. Valdemeer intoned before brushing her palms on the sides of her shimmering emerald dress.
“Latin? You speak Latin in Nether-Netherland?” Trevor glared at her until the translation of the familiar quote registered in his mind. “The truth will set me free? What kind of bullshit is that?”
“So, tell me,” she said with a smirk. “What’s the one thing you love more than any other?”
Although Trevor wanted to tell the crazy witch to mind her own damn business, he opened his mouth to say “baseball.” After all, wasn’t that his number one passion? But the message got lost between brain and mouth, and what tumbled over his teeth was, “My job.” He frowned, blinking in confusion. “My job?”
Her eyes gleamed in the magical light. “By the classic expression now gracing your face, I can only assume the truth has been set free.”
Trevor leaned forward, his sodden sock squishing in his shoe.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded. But he was pretty sure he knew.
“Daisy, of course.” Ms. Valdemeer inspected her long ruby fingernails. “Would you say you know Miss le Fey… intimately?”
“I wouldn’t say one way or the other,” Trevor bit out, struggling against the unbidden words, “if I could help it. But yes. Quite intimately. The first time, I thought she slipped me some kind of drug. Not that I didn’t enjoy myself. The second time, I was the one stupid enough to flash around that golden peach.”
At the word “peach,” Ms. Valdemeer’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Twice with the same peach,” she mused softly, casting a pointed, volatile glance toward his crotch. “How fascinating.”
His left hand contorted into the most universal of American gestures.
“Look, bitch. I—” He stopped speaking when his fingers slid around the frosty bars. “Wait. How am I saying what I want?”
“You can say anything you want,” she said with a toying little smile, �
��as long as it’s true.”
Trevor lifted an eyebrow. “So, you’re saying… it’s true you’re a bitch?”
“No,” she snarled, eyes flashing. Within seconds, her twisted features calmed. “It’s simply true you think I am.”
Before Trevor could verbalize his outrage toward her unsolicited Latin spell-casting, she fluttered a hand toward the waiting troll, pivoted on one black vinyl stiletto, and stalked off without a backward glance.
“It’s true she’s a bitch,” Trevor muttered to the guard as the cell clicked ajar. “What was that about?”
One pocked green shoulder shrugged in apathy. “Witnesses and defendants alike are occasionally given Truth Spells to ensure accurate testimony and expedited sentencing.” He motioned toward the open door. “Come. I will take you to the courtroom.”
“Trevor Masterson.” D.A. Sangre leaned one elbow on the witness stand and bared her teeth in a ferocious smile. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, all blessings to Apollo?”
That was a whole lot of truth. Especially since Daisy was now the one under the microscope. Mr. Squatch had managed to get the case against Trevor dismissed, but there was no chance of similar reprieve for Daisy. The D.A. was practically salivating at the opportunity to grill Trevor for salacious tidbits to use against her.
Daisy shifted on the hard wooden bench. At least the Elders hadn’t ordered a Truth Spell. A maneuver like that could’ve ruined everything. Truth Spells were rarely granted—and their moderated use had to be announced before the jury instead of a swearing-in like Trevor was undergoing—but she had sure worried.
Swearing to Apollo was another bonus. Most humans had moved on to newer gods.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, his dark eyes uncharacteristically sullen. Daisy couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
“Speak up,” Judge Banshee shrieked, leaping onto her chair. “I can’t hear you!”
Trevor’s palms slapped against the burnished edge of the witness box. “Yes, I’ll tell the truth. What else can I—”
