She's No Faerie Princess

by Christine Warren

  She would have felt a lot better if she could have thought of him as beastly, if she could have mustered up something like outrage or indignation or even some judicious fear. But no. Instead, all she felt was a wave of intense dizziness and a weakening of every muscle in her body as it melted against his. Her lips put up no resistance as he forced them apart with his own and surged inside like a conquering chieftain. His tongue claimed her mouth with bold strokes, marking the sweet territory as his. His teeth nipped sharply at her lips, before soothing the brief pain with suckling kisses.

  Moaning, she sank into him, letting her knees collapse. He didn't seem to need any help keeping her upright. He had her pinned against the wall like a canvas, held in place with the weight of his body. It worked for her, leaving her free to do nothing but savor the surprising, intriguing, intoxicating flavor of him.

  He tasted of rich, dark coffee, thick and heavy with sugar. Traces of spice and forest filled her senses and made her tremble as she dissolved in pleasure. Her hands slid up the cool surface of the wall and tangled in his hair, curling into fists and holding him tight against her lips. He didn't seem inclined to go anywhere else, but at this point, Fiona didn't want to take chances. She wanted to devour him. Or let him devour her. Either option would work so long as he never, ever stopped kissing her.

  A low rumble, half growl, half purr, vibrated between them as he leaned more heavily into her, into the kiss, nestling his hips into the cradle of hers, pushing against the flimsy barrier of her gossamer gown until she felt the rough scrape of denim against the center of her need.

  She moaned and wriggled against him, wanting to magic the barriers of cloth away, but she had used up her magic in the demon attack, and stars knew when she'd be able to get a refill. Probably not until she got back home.

  Even as the thought brushed through the edges of her consciousness, Fiona became aware of the passion between them, shifting, changing, becoming something more. Sheer, teasing tendrils of magic began to form from the energy of their mutual desire. The tendrils swirled and danced in the pit of her stomach, then spilled out, finding the wound in her flesh and smoothing over it. The magic knit skin and muscle back together, found foul, oily molecules of poison, and wrapped around them, insulating and separating them from her bloodstream and dissolving them into individual atoms that could be benignly flushed from her system.

  The healing magic filled Fiona with a rush of warmth and energy, replenishing her depleted stores of magic until her wish became a reality and the barriers of clothing between her and her werewolf disappeared, leaving him pressed hot and hard and naked between her thighs. She moaned and clutched him tighter, canting her hips invitingly, seeking to draw him inside her body, into the hot, moist depths that ached with emptiness only he could assuage.

  Unfortunately, the brush of molten heat against the crown of his shaft seemed to snap him into some hideously noble sort of sense. He tore his lips from hers and grabbed her wrists, jerking her hands from his hair and setting her bodily away from him. Far enough that her blindly seeking hips couldn't reach his and squirm their way past his guard.

  He swore violently and stood glaring at her with eyes that burned with heat and frustration and a distinct sense of unease. Holding her at arm's length, he struggled to regain his breath even as she struggled to free herself and press against him once more.

  "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" he demanded. His voice was so harsh, so low, and so animal that he sounded more like wolf than man. It took a few seconds for Fiona's overheated brain to translate the question and even longer for her to understand what he meant. For some reason he seemed to be upset by the fire leaping between them.

  Frowning, Fiona tested his grip on her wrists and found it just as steely as ever.

  "I wasn't thinking," she said, impatient and uncomprehending. "I was too busy tasting you. But I don't know what you have to be so upset about. I mean, it's not as if—"

  "Sweetheart, I almost fucked you up against a wall, and I've known you for all of seventy-two minutes, sixty-three of which you spent unconscious! You bet your ass I'm upset!"

  Fiona felt her frown deepen. "But why? Is there something wrong with the wall?" She craned her head to look at the pale-cream-colored surface behind her. "It seems perfectly functional to me."

  Walker made an odd choking sound. "That's not the point. Jesus, this is crazy. It's completely impossible."

  Fiona let her gaze drop pointedly to his erection and felt her eyes widen. My, but he looked… enthusiastic. And impressive. Borderline challenging.

  "It looks very happily possible to me. Probable, even, if you'd stop yelling for a few minutes and just let me get a little bit closer—"

  She slid a bare foot up his muscular leg to hook behind his hip and urge him toward her. For one delicious moment, she thought she saw his eyes start to glaze over and his body begin to sway nearer, but then he caught himself, jerking back as if electrocuted and shifting farther out of reach.

  "Would you stop that?"

  If she hadn't known the man in front of her to be a predator, Fiona might have called the look in his eyes just then hunted, especially once he glanced down at himself and really noticed that the reason he probably felt like she touched him through the fabric of his clothes was because he no longer wore any. But to be fair, neither did she.

  His head snapped up, and his expression hardened. "Put them back."

  Fiona didn't pretend to misunderstand. Instead, she sighed. "I can't."

  "What do you mean, you can't? I'm not the one around here who does magic, lady, and I'd sure as hell remember it if I'd undressed you, so I think it's a pretty safe bet that you're the one to blame."

  "Accusations are so not constructive—"

  "Put them back," he repeated, in a tone she bet made all the female werewolves swoon. "Now."

  "I told you, I can't." Since her gorgeous but grouchy companion had seen fit to kill the mood, Fiona gave up and leaned against the wall, which was not nearly as much fun as it would have been if he'd been pressing her up against it with that yummy body of his. The thought helped her muster up a respectable scowl of her own. "I don't have the magic. I'm drained."

  Seeing the Lupine's confusion and not in the mood to be accused of lying, which she felt sure would be his next step, Fiona explained. "Fae magic is different from the magic you have here. It's an entirely different system, almost like another language, and the only language I speak is Fae. I might be able to puzzle out some of the important words if I concentrate really hard, but that would take more energy than I'd be likely to gather. Which means that if I want to use magic while I'm in this world, I need to use magical energy I brought with me from Faerie."

  "Then do that. Use what stuff you brought with you."

  "Like I just told you," she said, glaring, "I'm drained. I used up all the magic I brought when I was trying to keep from being eaten by a demon with a serious case of the munchies. I don't have anything left. That's why you're seeing what I really look like, instead of the glamour I had on when I got here. When I used the last of my magic, I couldn't even keep that simple a spell cast."

  His expression reflected his skepticism. "If you can't do any magic, where the hell did our clothes go in the first place?"

  Fiona shifted uncomfortably. Somehow, she didn't see Walker being all that comfortable with the idea that she'd basically fed off the energy created by their intimate encounter. It was one of the inherent talents of the sidhe branch of the Fae that sex fueled their magic, and while that failed to even raise eyebrows in Faerie, it occasionally proved a bit disturbing to inhabitants of the human world, Other or not. With that in mind, Fiona didn't really want to be the one to have to explain it to this already-irritable Lupine. It would be enough of a challenge getting him to kiss her again as it was. If he reacted with the unease most of his fellow non-Fae felt for folk who replenished their magic with the energy of others, he'd probably never touch her again. She really wanted him
to touch her again.

  "That was the last of it," she said, cautiously meeting his gaze. "I'm surprised I even had enough to manifest a thought like that, but there's no way I can reverse it now. I'm tapped out."

  Walker's expression remained suspicious, but he released one of her wrists and used the other to tug her along behind him. He crossed the room to a half-closed door Fiona had been much too occupied to notice earlier.

  As they stepped into the other room, she looked from the enormous invitingly rumpled bed to the Lupine's grim expression and made a face. It didn't look like she should get her hopes up here, but she couldn't stifle the disappointed sigh when he grabbed her by the shoulders and positioned her squarely in the center of the room, well away from any and all accommodatingly flat surfaces.

  "Don't move."

  Obediently, she stood still and watched him rummage through a chest of drawers. He pulled out a pair of jeans first and tugged them on roughly. With his back turned, he missed the wistful expression that crossed her face as the heavy cloth slid over and concealed his truly mouthwatering behind. She consoled herself by admiring the way the fabric cupped and molded to him, right up until a veil of blue-striped cotton landed on her head, cutting off her vision. She reached up to yank it away and heard the thud of another garment landing at her feet.

  "Get dressed," he growled, and stalked past her out of the room without another glance.

  Sighing, Fiona picked up the sweatpants he'd left her and dropped them on the end of the bed while she slipped into the soft cotton shirt and went to work on the buttons. Sometimes, she really wished her instincts were a little less reliable. Because then maybe she wouldn't be quite so convinced that sleeping with Tobias Walker would be the most exhilarating experience of her life so far, or that the man would rather chew glass than give in to their mutual attraction.

  This vacation was turning out to be a lot less fun than she had planned.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 5

  It was tough to do any strategic planning while sporting an erection that would have scared most lifelong sex workers.

  Walker realized this during the few minutes he spent pacing his living room and trying to decide what to do with the hundred pounds of trouble in the next room. Lupines tended to be a superstitious lot—maybe because of the primitive instincts that lurked so closely beneath their more civilized surfaces and maybe just because they knew some things could only be explained by magic—but Walker had never thought himself to be particularly prone to those kinds of thoughts. He'd certainly never before suspected he might be cursed. Now, he had to rethink that position. What other reason could there be for the sudden appearance of the niece of the Queen of Faerie who had dropped into his lap at a time when he already felt like a juggler keeping half a dozen Volkswagens spinning above his head?

  "I could fit me and a friend in this outfit. Know anyone who might want to come over and join me?"

  Walker whirled on Fiona with a snarl before he realized how stupid that was. If he wanted to ignore the sparks that flared between them, he probably shouldn't be reacting possessively at the image of another male getting into the princess's pants.

  Dragging his gaze away from said pants—a pair of his soft, gray sweats that bagged adorably between the tightly winched drawstring at their waist and the thick cuffs where Fiona had been forced to roll up the hems to keep from tripping over them—he found her eyes smiling at him, clearly amused and unconvinced by his determination to keep his distance. Probably because it was pretty clear he hadn't managed to convince himself yet.

  Hell.

  He shoved a hand through his hair and tried to adopt a less lust-glazed expression. "I need to figure out what to do with you."

  "I could make a suggestion—" She broke off when he made a choking sound, as if he'd just swallowed his own tongue, and her grin turned wicked. "Actually, I could make several, but you seemed to indicate a desire for me to keep my hands to myself. So I was thinking more along the lines of you bidding me a fond farewell and letting me get back to my vacation."

  "Like hell."

  He must have looked as dismissive as he sounded, because she gave him a petulant little glare. "What? Haven't you ever needed a few days off?"

  "Lady, you've got no idea. But what part of being a Faerie princess has proved so fricking taxing for you?"

  "Don't ever call me that!"

  Her vehemence took Walker by surprise. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "You object to the truth?"

  "I object to you making assumptions when you know nothing more about me than the name of one aunt."

  She glared at him with an expression that could have melted steel, and he tried to tell himself that was better than the expression that said she wanted to lick him up and down like an ice-cream cone. His self snorted.

  "Whoa," he said, holding up a hand. "You're the one with the magic powers and the pointy ears, which make you Fae, and you're also the one who told me you're Queen Mab's niece, which makes you a princess. So how am I a jerk for calling you what you are?"

  Her lip curled. "I don't know. You're the son of a bitch, so why don't you tell me why word choice makes a difference?"

  Walker sucked in a breath and fought the instinct to snarl. She'd made her point, though she was the first woman he'd ever met who objected to being called a princess. "Fine. You don't want me to curtsy? Works for me. But I still need to figure out what the hell happens next."

  "You don't need to figure out anything about me." Her tone couldn't exactly be called polite, but at least she'd stopped breathing fire at him. "I can take care of myself. So, thanks for your help with the demon. I appreciate that. It's been nice meeting you. Hope you have a nice life. See ya later."

  She took a step toward the stairs, and his hand shot out to clamp around her wrist. "Hold it. Where do you think you're going?"

  "Like I told you, this is my vacation. I think it's time I went and saw some sights."

  "Right. Because I'm definitely letting Mab's niece wander—unauthorized, unescorted, and out of magic—around Manhattan. That's gonna happen any minute now."

  She pursed her lips and twisted her wrist in his grasp, but he held firm. "Can I assume you've sunk to sarcasm now?"

  "Sweetheart, let's not even get into sinking right now, okay?"

  "Then how about you stop insulting me by telling me I need to use the buddy system like the average five-year-old? I can take care of myself. I wasn't born last week. In fact, I wasn't born last century. I'm not some defenseless babe."

  Walker blinked at that age statement. He knew the Fae could live for thousands of years, but he hadn't connected that abstract fact with the woman in front of him who looked about twenty-five.

  "I never called you a defenseless babe." Though he couldn't deny the term "babe" had crossed his mind a time or two. "But you are a defenseless Fae right now. You told me that yourself, so when it comes down to it, that's not a whole hell of a lot different."

  Her violet eyes narrowed. "If I'm that defenseless, then why am I the one who distracted the demon long enough for us to get away?"

  Walker chose to ignore that. She sure as hell didn't need his encouragement in risking her pretty little neck. "You are not leaving here and going wandering around my city alone. If that was your plan, you can forget it right now."

  "What makes you think you can stop me?"

  He just looked down at her, letting her see the fierce glow of his eyes and the fierce clenching of the muscles that wanted to grab her and shake her senseless.

  Her chin rose another notch, along with her obvious determination. "Fine. You can stop me. But you have to sleep sometime."

  The threat hung in the air between them for a long moment before Walker swore. He wouldn't put it past her. The minute he turned his back, she'd probably be out the damned door. And the worst part was that she was right about the sleep, too. His eyes felt like they'd been covered in sandpaper and then set on fire. If he didn't
get some rest soon, his body was going to take the decision out of his hands and crumble into a heap on the first available flat surface it came to. Hell, at this point, he couldn't even be sure about the flat part. And he'd bet a small fortune that when he woke up, there would be a neat trail of little Fae footprints running right down the middle of his spine.

  "I don't suppose you'd consider cooperating."

  She smiled so sweetly, Walker felt his stomach turn over. In fear. "Why don't we try it and see? I'll even tuck you in."

  His stomach took a turn south even as his inner wolf sat up and begged. He muttered, "Down, boy."

  "What did you say?"

  He turned away and reached for the phone. "You'd better sit down. I need to make a phone call."

  Fiona looked less than thrilled by the suggestion. "My aunt screens her calls, you know."

  Walker snorted. "Even if Ma Bell had laid fiber-optic cables from Faerie to Timbuktu and back, I wouldn't dial that number on a bet. Tell Mab her baby niece wound up naked on my sofa half-eaten by a demon? I'm not that flavor of stupid."

  He dialed quickly and kept one eye on her while he listened to the phone ring. She didn't sit. In fact, she stood glaring at him while one foot tapped impatiently on the floor, but at least she was staying put. For the moment.

  "Do you have any goddamned idea what time it is?"

  Walker ignored the threat in the growl on the other end of the line and barked out a question of his own. "How soon can you get over to my place?"

  The growl shifted abruptly into a whimper, and the aggravated male voice in his ear turned decidedly whiny. "Aw, come on, Uncle Tobe. I just got to bed like four hours ago, and I have an exam in the morning. I'm a growing wolf. I need my sleep."