Held by Magic: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (The Demon's Fae Book 1)

by LJ Swallow

Behind him, streetlights and buildings pass through the car window. I'm lying across Morgan's lap, staring into his concerned face. Instead of touching his injured cheek, he cups his hand around my head.

  I wince. "What the fuck happened?" My voice croaks from my crushed, stinging throat.

  "I told you we'd take them down," says Morgan. The nail marks on his face aren’t his only injury—his face is bruised; eye and lip swollen.

  "Yeah, but they almost took her." Cillian doesn't look around, focused on driving the speeding car as it lurches from side to side through traffic. Dex's head reaches the top of the headrest in the passenger seat beside him. Dex. Not Spot.

  "The guy who attacked me. He was from the warehouse," I say.

  Morgan nods. "We got him this time though. Cillian turned him to dust."

  "The others?"

  "Left," says Dex in a gruff voice.

  "But did we get the bones from the mausoleum?" I ask. "Cillian?" His silent response sickens my stomach. "Oh, fuck. Did the others take them?"

  "No. There wasn't much left of them by the time Dex finished," Morgan replies.

  Cillian glances over his shoulder. "There weren’t any bones, Syv."

  Tears prick my eyes and I fight against them falling. I hurt everywhere— not only my body but my heart. My spirit. "We keep looking."

  I tip to one side as Cillian takes a sharp turn into a side street and continues his impatient drive back to the Institute.

  Morgan doesn’t speak again. In the light of the Institute, his injuries stand out more. He’s a mess with his clothes torn and he winces as he walks. Did his barrier fail?

  "Are you okay?" I ask him. "You don’t look good."

  "The demons tried to take me too." He’s hoarse and the flashing anger in his eyes feels directed at me, not only the guys who attacked us. "And I told you why that’s dangerous."

  I glance at his arms. "The runes. I know."

  He tightens his mouth and limps towards the kitchen. Cillian places a hand on my forearm. "They took down Morgan’s barrier. He was in danger."

  "Shit," I reply.

  Cillian’s pale face is marred by cuts too, and only Dex appears unscathed. He watches Morgan leave, but stands away from me, and his protectiveness has been replaced by something different. A distance that makes me uneasy.

  "I need to see if Morgan is okay," I mumble.

  I make to follow him but Cillian takes my arm. "Leave him. Dex. You check on him."

  Dex gives a brisk nod, and I’m left in the hallway with Cillian—the only one of the three who isn’t distant. "This isn’t just the injuries bothering Morgan, is it?"

  Cillian takes hold of my hair and my eyes water as he pulls a small stick tangled in. "No. The fact Verin’s men followed us worries me. He knew we’d be there—or he’s following you."

  How? Cillian answers my silent question and takes hold of my arm. He gently runs his fingers across the mark on my dirt-smeared skin. "I think they’re tracking you. With this."

  The gentle voice and closeness do nothing to quell the growing anxiety. "Are they looking for Morgan too? They have his brother—do they need him?"

  "I don’t know, but they want Morgan’s magic." Cillian drops his hand. "They counteracted what he used tonight, so these demons know exactly what magic he’s skilled in. Morgan’s not as powerful as he thought, and that’s shaken him."

  "That’s not good." I know my words are a huge understatement. Something else is here and unspoken: we were at that location because of me.

  Low voices travel from the kitchen. What do I do? Follow Morgan in and talk to him?

  "What happens next?" I ask Cillian.

  "I think you need to sit down and let me look at you. You passed out. Was that magic or—"

  "My head hitting a tree trunk?" I smile weakly. "You need better aim."

  "Maybe you have a concussion. Come with me."

  Cillian guides me towards the lounge area, spiking my anxiety further because this is away from Dex and Morgan.

  I gingerly sit. "I’m fine. Mostly. But I’m worried about Morgan."

  Cillian doesn’t respond and unease crawls down my spine. I sit with my head in my hands, aching body held by the large armchair I'm propped in. Cillian keeps touching my shoulder to check I’m okay, but I need to sleep.

  The door closes and I look up. Dex and Morgan. Dex walks to the window and stares out. Morgan slumps into a chair opposite and rubs his temples.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask him.

  "Sorry, Syv. I think this is too dangerous," says Morgan looking at his shoes and not me. "I almost died tonight."

  "Searching for items powerful demons want is dangerous," I reply. "You must know that."

  "Helping you is more dangerous. We’re running in circles trying to find a cure for something we’re not even sure we can. All the while, we’re wasting time not looking for boxes."

  "Morgan..." warns Cillian. "We need Syv’s help—and she needs ours."

  "Do we? Okay, so she’s the best at locating magic items, but she isn’t the only one who can."

  "Donovan wanted us to work with her."

  My ears prick up. "Really? Why?"

  "Because you’re the best," says Cillian and nods at me.

  "But not if she’s dead. And, in the meantime, Verin has the box and could destroy my brother. Or worse." Morgan’s cheeks heat and his words become increasingly breathless.

  His injuries are more than the nails down his face, he’s holding his arm and when he sat earlier he winced. Morgan’s face is bruised and Dex limps. They’re right—doing this threatens them.

  We’re wasting time that could save Morgan’s brother’s life. And who’s more important? Me or his brother?

  My chest tightens. "Do you want me to leave?"

  "You said your Horsemen could help. Or the Collector. You don’t need us—this was a bad idea." Morgan’s made his mind up. What about the others?

  "Dex?" I ask. He doesn’t look away from the window. Why this? Why so suddenly? "Is this because I won’t sign your contract?"

  "To be fair, Syv, that does mean you’re holding back from us. I want to help you — we all do —but this is complicated," says Cillian.

  "We don’t really know who you are," says Morgan.

  "You know as much about me as I do."

  "Do we?" asks Morgan. "What’s your real relationship with the Horsemen? This whole fangirl thing you have going on. Maybe they know about the box—my brother—and want to interfere."

  "Morgan. We discussed this, you know that's a stupid notion," says Cillian in a calm tone.

  "You heard what Ewan said at the bar, Cillian," puts in Morgan. "They want rid of us."

  I laugh, which turns into a cough. "Believe me, if the Horsemen wanted you dead they'd kill you themselves. Xander would make an example of you. The guys who attacked us were demons. I don't know who they were connected to, but—"

  "Xander wanted me dead once before," says Dex.

  "You saved his life." I stand and step towards him. "He knows you're not dangerous."

  "They want Dwellers dead."

  I inhale and let out a calming breath. "They don't want me dead."

  "She's right," says Cillian. "I think you're overreacting. Both of you." He nods at Morgan.

  "But Dex agrees," he says. "You have to half-agree that Syv is trouble."

  "More trouble than I’m worth?" I snap, hackles rising. But this hurts. Really fucking hurts. "Fine, I’ll leave and solve this on my own."

  "I think we should sleep on this," says Cillian and touches Morgan’s arm. "We’re struggling with what happened tonight. How vulnerable we were."

  "And the other day when Dex shifted," puts in Morgan. "Random shifting because Dex is out of control threatens us."

  I suck on my teeth. "Well turn back time, Morgan. Go back to when you found me in the warehouse. Instead of saving my life, arrive earlier and take the bloody box."

  "If I could, I would," he says
. "I can’t alter time unless it’s important."

  "I thought your box was important?" I snap back.

  "No, important like someone dying. And I’m not a time traveller. I can only manipulate within minutes of an event."

  "That’s a bit useless," I say snarkily.

  "Yes. There are a fuck load of things I would’ve changed by now," he snaps back.

  "But not me?"

  Morgan drags a hand into his hair. "Syv. This isn’t personal, but I’m scared for my brother. And myself. I don’t know what might happen to him—or could even be happening to him right now."

  "Well, so much for me being the answer to your fucking problems!" I retort. "And your answer to mine. This is bullshit. You drag me here trying to 'recruit' me, and now you accuse me of being too much trouble." I rub a hand across my sore head and stand, unsteadily. "I'll happily leave. Let me pack my stuff."

  "Syv..." Cillian throws pissed-off glances at the other two guys. "Let’s calm the situation."

  "How? Look, I understand what Morgan means. I get that I’m a liability." I need out of here. I shouldn’t feel hurt. Betrayed. This happens every time I try to work with people. Don’t I learn?

  Morgan stares down at his shoes, one hand dug into his hair. Dex looks directly at me. His need to protect me he talked about is obviously overtaken by his loyalty to these men.

  I stalk towards the door.

  Yeah, I can see why people don't trust these arseholes.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The demon's words rattle around my head as I wash the day from my aching body. Did I imagine his words in my half-strangled state? Scrubbing at the mark does nothing, of course. Like much in my life, the act is futile—such as starting to trust three guys who promised to help me.

  The bruises on my body spread in ugly purples to match the yellowing ones from two days ago. I'm permanently covered in cuts and bruises, but my face shocks me. I don't usually look like I've gone three rounds with a Leviathan. Add in my swollen eye and bruised mouth, and I'm a delight.

  Before I step in the shower, I peer at my eyes in the mirror, terrified they may still be black the way Morgan said. Nothing. They’re dark-rimmed by tiredness with a cut at one corner, but the same colour as usual.

  How I look is the least of my problems right now; I gave up my home to stay here. If I head back to La Fee Verte and beg for my old room, my abusive ex lurks nearby. I doubt Sim would agree anyway.

  The Horsemen? If I’m really stuck, I guess Vee will make them take me in.

  The Collector? He’s the one person I can trust. Maybe this is the opportunity to reforge our bond.

  The guys are right. I’m a liability. The demon guy who attacked me, for the second time, told me someone ‘needs’ me. I’m in danger and anybody associated with me is too.

  Shower over, and with a white towel firmly tied around myself, I search through my dirty jeans for my phone. I dial, and the phone rings out. Col doesn't use voicemail, and half the time never uses his phone either. I chastise him regularly for not catching up with the twenty-first century, and he always smiles and shrugs. I know the real reason—he prefers to keep up his ‘untouchable’ image.

  I drop the phone on the bed, pull on my underwear and rummage through my bag for clean clothes. I don't have an extensive or varied wardrobe, mostly jeans or leather pants and T-shirts in various states of disrepair. I curse under my breath when I can't find any shirts without holes in them. I'll need to go back to my old digs at the fae place, even if I can’t stay there. I moved too quickly and left things behind.

  The door creaks as somebody pushes at where it fits poorly in the frame. I spin around. Cillian.

  "Some privacy?" I snap.

  "Sorry. I was worried you'd leave before I had a chance to talk to you." He stands awkwardly in the doorway.

  I gesture at the window. "We're three floors up. Expecting me to jump from the window?"

  The guy struggles to keep his eyes off my almost-naked body. "No."

  "You always seem to arrive when I’m half-naked. Is that an elemental skill? Want more of an eyeful before I dress?” I don't give a shit about people seeing me like this. I've never been body-conscious. Really, what's the difference between a guy seeing me in underwear versus if I stood in a bikini on a beach? Especially this one, since Cillian has seen it all before.

  Man, I wish I was on a tropical beach right now.

  Cillian's dark-eyed expression tells me skimpy underwear interests him a little too much. I tip my chin and tighten my mouth. I’m flattered, but this situation will create an unhappy ending for his face if Cillian touches me. I don’t do encores unless I want to, and I’m seriously not in the mood.

  "Sorry, I’ll leave, but don’t hit me if I tell you I’m enjoying the view."

  "I’m not naked. I don’t care as long as you control yourself." I grab the damp towel and squeeze water from my hair.

  Cillian closes the door, steps forward, and studies me with his strange eyes. His face holds the same expression as tender as earlier today. "Your face is a mess."

  "I know."

  "I think the guys will see sense. Let me talk to them. Morgan’s stress about his brother grows every day."

  "I can understand that. It’s fine. I'm leaving."

  "But what about this?" I shiver as he turns my arm over and runs a finger along the black on my skin. "I want to help."

  "You mean you want me to use my skills to locate your item? I'm not stupid; that's what this has been about all along."

  His eyes meet mine again, and he shakes his head. "Wrong. Yes, we need that from you, but you're worth more than that."

  "Because I can find more items? Probably best I stay alive then. If you’re lucky, I’ll find a cure for my death mark and come back to work for a price. Charge you ten times my going rate for being ungrateful, unhelpful bastards."

  "I wouldn’t blame you. I will talk to the guys. We can sort this out."

  "I don't understand Dex's reaction either."

  Cillian screws up his nose. "Dex is a weird guy. He's constantly paranoid someone will catch or kill him. He won't tell us much about his life before, but it must've been bad."

  I nod. "Do you agree they’re overreacting?"

  "Yes. I agree." He pauses. "But I also think you're overreacting by leaving."

  "A guy who can turn into a poisonous, slavering, huge-ass dog said he doesn't trust me. I think I have a right to be worried."

  "No. Dex wouldn't hurt you." He sighs. "He's the one who pushed us into an agreement that we’d look for you."

  Dex’s words about owing and protecting me come back into my mind. But this is such a contradiction. I place the towel on the bed. "I’m leaving to stay with Col. I should’ve gone to him in the first place."

  "Stay, Syv," he whispers. "Let us keep you safe."

  “No.” To reinforce the point, I pull a shirt from my bag and over my head. I flinch as the neck pulls against my injured cheeks. Cillian reaches out and strokes my hair flat. "Don't leave."

  "This was a mistake. I can find others to help."

  His mouth purses. "I worry about you. Not just the demons, but Bastian. You're vulnerable."

  I suck on my teeth. "I'm fine."

  "At least think about staying until the morning, and we've talked about this. When emotions aren’t running high." He rubs a thumb along my injured lip. "I won't be happy until we have that mark off you."

  “Don’t talk about the mark.”

  His gentle fingers move towards my cheek, his brow tugging together as he looks at my injuries.

  "I can't persuade you?" he whispers.

  "To stay?"

  Cillian's lips brush my injured cheek, and I'm torn between moving my lips to meet his or backing away. "To stay. I don’t want you to leave."

  Elemental sex.

  Don’t think about the elemental sex.

  Summoning every ounce of self-control, I step away. "I can't stay. I'll invite you over some time. For Netflix a
nd chill." Cillian’s lips purse with amusement, and I scowl at his interpretation. “Not that kind of chill, this time.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I have a key to Col's old Victorian terrace home—a place in a nicer part of London than my usual digs. He once told me I'm the only one who owns a key, which is bloody trusting considering my line of work—especially with the amount of valuable magic items he has stashed here. But, we both know our professional relationship is more profitable for me than a quick buck from stealing his stuff.

  If I ever need to escape, this is where I come.

  Despite all this, I don't like rocking up at his place uninvited. The first few times I did, I was terrified magic traps or some shit might hit me. But whatever wards his place also allows me through.

  I can't help feeling smug and a little special he allows me the key.

  Empty houses don't bother me, but for once I wish Col was here. After two days with the guys' company, I feel a strange loss as I’m alone. The quiet echoes with my footsteps through Col's restored home. I'm unsure if his weird magic causes this, but spending time around Col when I feel like shit helps.

  With no fae immortal to chat to, I turn to my most trusted friend: alcohol.

  Once I dump my stuff in my unofficial room, a large bedroom with a bay window overlooking his gardens, I head downstairs with the whisky I bought on the way here.

  I wasted my time. I should know better than to attach myself to people. Sucks when they die, but when I trust people and they screw me over, it hurts more.

  The whisky burns my throat as I drink my way through half the bottle. I left my boots and jacket in the bedroom beside my dagger—this is one place I don't need a weapon on hand. The room darkens as night falls and I sit in the lounge room, curled up in a chair watching the dusk turn to night. I don't draw the curtains, and the only light shines from a nearby streetlamp.

  Stripped down to my T-shirt and jeans again, I keep catching sight of the death mark on my arm. But the alcohol soothes me, along with the weird floral scent my friend's house fills with.

  Damn I wish Col owned a TV, then I wouldn't need to watch a replay of recent events in my head.