The Hob

by Dana Marie Bell

  “Are you hungry?” She whimpered and he stepped closer. “Michaela?”

  She licked her lips again. “Pizza.”

  He nodded and placed his hand on the small of her back. The heat of his palm was overwhelming. “They have a table for us, my dear.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She allowed Ringo to guide her to a table, settling her in the booth before sliding into the seat right next to her. He snuggled as close as humanly possible, his arm draping across the booth behind her, cocooning her in his warmth. She was practically in his lap, but she couldn’t really complain.

  God, she was turning into a slut. Ringo tapped his finger on the table, ignoring the menu the waitress placed in front of him as they both asked her for cola. A Ringo-centric slut-puppy with a plastic checkerboard tablecloth fetish.

  “You mentioned that you are a nurse.”

  Her focus switched to his face, away from those long, graceful fingers with their black fingernails. She frowned.

  Black? Huh. Maybe Ringo had been wearing lip gloss. Either that or he’d painted them for his costume for the con.

  “What kind of nurse?”

  “Pediatric.” And that was as far as she was going. When she told people what she did for a living, she got one of two reactions. Horrified grilling, or awe. Like she was some kind of fucking superhero. She was anything but. Those kids? They were the superheroes, not her.

  She didn’t want any of that from Ringo. Let him come to want her before she told him about her job.

  “I also like to go snowboarding and race dirt bikes.”

  He smirked. “Indeed. Those ambulance drivers seemed thoroughly acquainted with your hobbies.”

  “I like the speed.” Was that a note of jealousy she detected? “Those guys are my buddies. I know most of the people who work at the hospital, and they’re two of the best. They have my back.”

  “And some don’t?” His arm slid over the top of the booth and around her shoulders. That absolute, total focus on her would have creeped her out had it been anyone but Ringo, but for some strange reason his undivided attention didn’t bother her at all.

  She leaned in closer to him, basking in his warmth. “Some are total asshats whose only redeeming quality is that they’ll die someday.”

  He chuckled silently. “I have a few coworkers like that myself.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m in security.” He grinned. “The waitress is on her way back.”

  “Pepperoni?”

  “Is there any other kind of pizza?”

  “Oh, my kind of guy.”

  He nipped her earlobe once more, his teeth remarkably sharp. “I certainly hope so.”

  Hell. She wanted to feel those teeth on her neck nibbling away so badly she could almost feel it. She smiled her thanks at the waitress as she handed over their sodas. Michaela picked up hers up and gulped it down in one long swallow.

  Ringo placed their order, getting her another soda as well. He seemed amused by her.

  Well. Perhaps it was time she seduced him back.

  She picked up a piece of ice from her cup and ran it over her lips before sucking it into her mouth. Ringo’s hand tightened on her shoulder before tangling in her hair.

  “You’re playing with fire, my dear.”

  She held up another piece and licked it. “Good thing I have ice.”

  Ringo surprised her by dipping his head and sucking the ice from her fingers. “What ice?”

  “I don’t sleep with someone on the first date.”

  Now where the hell did that come from? She was dying to break her golden rule, especially when the brown in his eyes almost completely disappeared, leaving them blue and clear as glass. She tilted her head, studying his face. Was that a hint of green hidden in the clear blue? She could study those changeable eyes of his forever.

  “Good to know.” He licked her fingers, sucking on the tips until she was ready to beg. “I might have to try harder for our second date, then.”

  She was going to die happy. She tried to distract herself from the feel of his warm tongue tracing her palm. “You work with Kael?”

  He placed a kiss on her wrist before answering. “He’s in training.”

  “Ah.” She frowned, some of the bubble they’d wrapped themselves in bursting. “Shouldn’t you be with him?”

  His eyes were now completely blue, glowing in the crappy fluorescent lighting. “No.”

  Okay then. “I like your eyes.”

  Her cheeks began to burn. Apparently her brain-to-mouth filter was in the gutter along with the rest of her mind.

  “Thank you.” He looked ridiculously pleased.

  She decided to run with it, since he seemed so happy. “I’ve never seen hazel eyes with more blue than brown in them. And yours are such a pale blue, they glow.”

  His lashes lowered, hiding his remarkable eyes. “Do they?”

  He seemed less pleased. The day suddenly seemed less bright. “Did I say something wrong?”

  He looked up at her, scowling when he saw her frown. There was more brown in his eyes too. Crap, she had said something wrong.

  “No.” He touched her cheek, tracing the delicate bone. “No, not at all.”

  One moment, he touched her like he was going to throw her over the table and mount her like a beast. The next, he treated her as if she were the rarest flower he’d ever seen, with a reverence she’d never before encountered. She could easily see herself becoming addicted to those soft touches, the wonder on his face, just as much as the feral predator.

  Maybe more so.

  After they ate, Ringo paid the bill, much to her chagrin. She’d planned on going Dutch for their first date, but he’d managed to distract her with some silly story about a friend of his named Ron, and the practical jokes they played on each other. “Meet me for dinner.”

  She pouted. “I wish I could, but I can’t. I’m on night shift at the hospital for the next two weeks.”

  The blue flared in his eyes again, and this time it really did look like they were glowing before he lowered his eyes again. “Breakfast, then?”

  She tilted her head. “I could do that.” She’d have just enough time for a little sleep before she had to shower and put on her costume. Breakfast before the con sounded like heaven.

  He escorted her out the door and back to the hotel. “Breakfast, then.” He tilted her chin up, and Michaela held her breath. She knew what he was asking.

  Michaela accepted the kiss eagerly. She couldn’t wait for her first taste of him.

  Instead of the soft, first-date kiss she’d expected, Ringo swept in and conquered her, taking her mouth the way she’d daydreamed he’d take her body. His tongue invaded her, sweeping inside as if he had the right, tasting everything she was and possibly might ever be.

  Dear God, he tasted good. Better than anything. Better than ice cream, than falling snow. Better even than the tang of your lover’s skin when you were having really incredible sex.

  He tasted familiar, and that was the best part of all. Only her dreams of Robin had tasted like this.

  Michaela kissed him back, giving him everything he demanded and more. Someday, probably sooner than she’d expected, they’d wind up in bed together. If he lived up to even a fraction of the promise in that kiss, she’d do everything in her power to keep him forever.

  The kiss had barely ended, his lip still on hers, when he spoke again. “I look forward to breakfast.”

  She whimpered. She’d never met anyone who made the promise of pancakes sound so hot.

  Robin watched as a dazed Michaela made her way back to the conference. The taste of her lingered on his tongue, confirming his worst fear and greatest hope. “Jaden.”

  The vampire, who had been leaning just inside the conference center’s doors, bowed his head and followed.

  Only the best would guard his truebond.

  Chapter Nine

  Robin, his blonde, female disguise once more firmly in place, made his way toward the back o
f the conference area. He’d caught sight of Raven MacSweeney, his dark head turning this way and that. The man appeared to be following someone, and Robin intended to find out whom. Of all the delegates, he was the one who had Robin’s threat meter topping out.

  He tried to convince himself that MacSweeney’s interest in Michaela had nothing to do with it, but Robin was not in the habit of lying to himself. If MacSweeney tried to take Robin’s woman, he’d discover just why Robin was Oberon’s personal Blade. There would be nothing left of the Raven Lord, not even smoke and ashes.

  MacSweeney darted down a corridor and Robin followed. It was less populated here as convention goers darted into rooms and took seats. MacSweeney paused, watching one doorway in particular. Robin faded from sight and drifted forward, looking into the room that had Raven’s undivided attention.

  Robin frowned. He recognized that pair of rotten pumpkin wings bouncing their way back out the door.

  Damn. The Fear Dearc was rumored to have fearsome powers, and Robin did not wish to test them around so many humans. The ensuing fight could damage or destroy many lives, something Oberon would wish Robin to avoid if at all possible.

  “Michaela.”

  Then again, there was always a first time for everything.

  Michaela paused, smiling at MacSweeney like he was her long-lost brother. The only thing that kept Robin sane was the fact that the heat, so prevalent in her gaze when she looked at Ringo, was absent. “Raven! How’s the art thing going?”

  Art? What in blue blazes was she talking about? And since when was she on a first-name basis with the bastard?

  “I’m not really an artist. Not professionally, anyway.” MacSweeney leaned against the wall, effectively cutting Michaela from the herd.

  “What do you do, then? Because I have to say, I think you could make a living off your art.”

  MacSweeney’s shoulders moved in an almost-shrug. “I’m in security.”

  Michaela laughed. Robin moved so that his view wasn’t blocked by MacSweeney’s broad, soon-to-be-decomposing back. “I have a friend who told me earlier he’s in the same business.”

  Shit. Well, Robin had already effectively broken his cover, but if MacSweeney confirmed Robin’s interest in Michaela…

  “Oh? Who?”

  “Ringo.” Her cheeks flushed.

  MacSweeney’s head tilted. “Ringo? Like the Beatle?”

  Michaela wrinkled her nose and grinned. “Like the Japanese word for apple.”

  “You’ll have to introduce me sometime.”

  When hell freezes over. Out of the corner of his eye, Robin noted Jaden’s presence. So the vampire hadn’t lost sight of his charge after all. To all but the most discerning eye, the vampire was invisible.

  “I think you’d get along. Unless you’re business rivals.” She smiled sweetly. “Then, maybe not so much.”

  MacSweeney chuckled and reached out. He brushed his fingertips along Michaela’s arm. “Have dinner with me?”

  Michaela shook her head. “I can’t. I have the night shift at the hospital tonight.”

  Damn it all. She seemed genuinely regretful. Now he’d have to kill MacSweeney just on principle.

  “Which hospital do you work at?”

  NO. She couldn’t. Robin moved forward, ready to step in.

  “Philadelphia Gen—”

  “Michaela!” Robin sagged in relief as Moira Blackthorn practically jumped Michaela from behind. “The lecture’s about to start.”

  “Sorry, I’ll be right there.” She turned back to MacSweeney with a grimace. “I have to run. It was nice talking to you again.”

  “You too.” MacSweeney dared to put his hands on Robin’s woman, bringing her hand to his lips for a soft, sweet kiss. “I’ll see you around.”

  Robin wondered if Michaela heard the threat or not. From her relaxed posture, he was guessing not.

  “I look forward to it.”

  Over his dead body.

  Michaela allowed Moira to drag her off with a farewell wave to MacSweeney, sealing the dark fae’s fate. MacSweeney watched the women until they were safely behind the closed door of the conference room, a strange expression on his face. Robin couldn’t quite place it. Was it regret? Longing?

  Loneliness?

  Finally, the corridor was empty except for Jaden, Robin and MacSweeney.

  “I know you’re there, Hob. You too, Blackthorn. Come out, come out wherever you are.”

  Robin allowed his blue eyes to shift into view, leaving the rest of his body invisible even as Jaden stepped out of the shadows. “Raven MacSweeney.”

  MacSweeney smirked. “Robin Goodfellow. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but even I’m not that big a liar.”

  Robin bit back a reluctant smile. “Indeed. I could say the same.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be not here? You should be in the conference room with the rest of the, ahem, delegates.”

  Robin had almost forgotten about Jaden, so focused had he become on the Fear Dearc.

  “Lord Jaden Blackthorn, I presume? Your bondmate is quite sweet looking. Does she taste as good as she looks?”

  Green fire flashed in Jaden’s eyes. If the Fear Dearc threatened either Moira or Duncan, Jaden would attack to protect his lovers. Perhaps that was what the Fear Dearc hoped for. It would certainly open up the Gray Court to recrimination, as MacSweeney, a delegate, had diplomatic immunity for the conference.

  But Jaden took a tack that surprised even Robin. He grinned, that mischievous one that had first drawn Robin to the vampire. “I wonder how sweet Michaela would react to you threatening her newfound friend?”

  One of MacSweeney’s dark brows rose. “Does she know you set Moira on her in order to spy on me?

  Robin laughed. MacSweeney’s ego was large, indeed, if he thought Moira was a spy.

  MacSweeney’s attention remained on Jaden. “No. You’re using your bondmate to protect her. From me?” MacSweeney put his hand to his chest with melodramatic flair. His nails, like Robin’s, were black. Whether it was an affectation or natural remained to be seen. “I’m flattered.”

  “What can I say? My wife has excellent taste. Case in point, I noticed she didn’t like you.”

  Gods love Jaden Blackthorn. He could annoy a saint, and MacSweeney could never lay claim to that title. The smirk was gone from his face, replaced by irritation. “Don’t interfere, Blackthorn. Whether you believe it or not, my intentions toward the human are honorable.”

  “As honorable as a Black Court fae can ever be, which means not.”

  MacSweeney’s gaze narrowed. “Let it go, bloodsucker.”

  “I don’t think so, birdbrain.”

  MacSweeney took a deep breath. “I give you my word, Michaela will come to no true harm while under my protection.”

  The ring of magic was in his words, a vow the Fear Dearc would have to enforce whether he wished it or not. If it were any woman but Michaela, Robin would have been intrigued.

  “She’s under my protection.” No vow needed to be said for Robin to feel the magic settle around him. Robin flashed into view, changing his clothing to match his appearance. The tight leather pants, high boots, long jacket and silk shirt were far more his style than anything Ringo wore. Robin would not allow MacSweeney to lay any claim his bondmate, magical vows or no. He offered the Fear Dearc a mocking bow, his red hair sweeping around him like a cloak. “Let none say the Hobgoblin does not protect his own.”

  MacSweeney returned the bow. “Be aware, I have every intention of making her mine.”

  Robin smiled sweetly, aware his fangs were showing. “You may try.”

  “Raven? Is everything all right?”

  Robin stilled. He had not seen the door behind MacSweeney swing open, but Michaela stood just behind it, her head peaking around the edge. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Robin, her gaze sweeping him from head to toe. She bit her lip, and Robin damn near growled at the lust in her quickly guarded expression.

  Hell. Now
he had to be jealous of himself.

  MacSweeney moved quickly for a soon–to–be dead man. “Everything is fine, sweetness. You go back to your class.”

  “It sounded like you were arguing.” She smiled when she saw Jaden and waved. “Hi, Jaden. You looking for Moira?”

  Jaden shook his head. “Nope. But I’m glad you’re looking after her for me.”

  Michaela wrinkled her nose. “She called the instructor a ‘flaming arse-shite moron with delusions of grandeur’. I don’t think we’ll be in here for much longer.”

  Robin laughed. He could picture the fiery Moira doing just that.

  “Who are you?”

  Robin continued to chuckle as he swept Michaela a low bow. “Robin Goodfellow, if it pleases you.”

  Her eyes went wide with delight. “And if it didn’t?”

  “Then I would have to sigh and lay claim to some other title. Puck, perhaps?”

  Her grin turned damn near evil. “Peter Pan?”

  “Please.” He waved that name away with a disdainful sniff. “Credit me with some taste. I am hardly in the business of seducing children, thank you.”

  “I bet you’d look good in the tights.”

  Robin cocked one brow at her, delighted when she shivered in response. “My dear, I would kill in those tights.”

  Michaela’s grin turned puzzled. “Why do I have the feeling we’ve met before?”

  Robin preened, secretly pleased that she recognized him on some level despite the fact that he wasn’t currently wearing his Ringo disguise. “I’m just that pretty.”

  She laughed, open and unaffected, charming him once more. “Yes, you are. But it’s not that.” She tapped her chin and studied his face intently. Robin had no fear she’d link him to Ringo. Ringo stood a good two inches taller than Robin. That alone should throw her off balance.

  She nodded her head. “I know what it is. It’s your eyes.” She pointed to MacSweeney. “You two have the same eyes.” Her gaze darted between the two, her expression turning sly. “Are you brothers?”

  Robin blinked, and MacSweeney turned pale. The Fear Dearc laughed, but it was a shadow of its former glory. Indeed, he looked wan, almost sick. “I’ve never met him before in my life.”