by Mina Carter
“Pretty, but it ain’t going to help you one bit, bitch. Hand over the kid,” he ordered as he advanced menacingly.
This was it, now or never. She tested her hold on the Witching, finding it firm, and then flicked her wrists. The lights, normally benign orbs that fluttered around like fireflies, turned into something akin to wasps.
The soft buzzing around them increased to fever pitch. One broke away, the pixie’s eyes following it, hovering higher than the rest for a moment. Then it dive-bombed, heading right for the intruder’s eyes.
“Holy shit! Get it off me!” He flapped his hands and arms as he tried to fend off the attacking ball of light. Ignoring the flailing hands, it dodged and darted in, attacking repeatedly.
That seemed to be the signal, as the floodgates opened and the rest attacked like a horde, diving and circling, completely blinding the pixie. As he fumbled around the room, trying to shake them off, Tessa looked around for something to knock him out with.
“Fluffy toys, fluffy toys… Christ! Isn’t there anything harder than a damn marshmallow in here?” she exclaimed in frustration, running out of options and time. The glamour she’d cast wouldn’t last forever, and she wouldn’t be able to cast it again for at least an hour.
Then her gaze glided down the side of the shelves. There, tucked away in the corner, was James’ prize possession. A baseball bat signed by someone or other. She had no clue what it was doing in here but grabbed it like a lifeline. Palms sweaty and heart pounding, she padded toward the pixie. Could she do it? Could she swing the bat and hit another living creature? She wasn’t a violent person…not really…she was all mouth and bluster.
“Argh, you wait, bitch! When I get these damn things off me, I’ll fucking gut you!” The pixie’s bellowed threat made up Tessa’s mind for her. She drew the bat back. Wincing, she closed her eyes and swung it with all her might.
It hit with a meaty crunch, the pixie’s threats and complaints falling silent, along with a dull thud, as something large hit the floor. Tessa opened her eyes in surprise, looking down at the prone form. She’d done it. She’d actually done it.
“And that one’s outta the park!”
Tessa swung around at the voice from the doorway, drawing the bat back again. It was an automatic reaction, ready to swing for anyone who wanted to take the baby. But Feral’s dark eyes met hers, amusement in them as he worked to clear the ruins of the nursery wardrobe out of the way.
“Oh my god, Feral,” she half squeaked, half gasped. She’d never been so pleased to see anyone in her life, throwing herself across the short distance and into his arms, the bat falling unheeded to the carpet.
“Are you okay? You’re not hurt?” she asked, all but throttling him in her relief.
He chuckled, a deep rumble from low in his chest as he hugged her in return, his hands smoothing down her back, soothingly. “I’m okay. Take more than a bunch of half-assed pixies to bother me.” He grinned, letting her go to continue clearing the doorway.
“Just remind me not to piss you off, okay?” He chuckled, nodding toward the bat on the floor and the still form of the pixie. “Where’s the baby? We need to get out of here, like yesterday. Whoever sent this lot…well, they’re playing hardball.”
CHAPTER 3
“W hat are you, some sort of one-man army?” Tessa asked, leaning in the doorway of the main bedroom and watching Feral pull a multitude of weapons from a case. Ten minutes had seen a rapid exit from her sister’s now trashed apartment, Feral only allowing enough of a delay for her to grab her weekend bag and one for the baby. She knew her sister was going to kill her for the state of the place, but right now, Tessa couldn’t bring herself to worry. Not when there were far more important things to think about.
Like how damn hot the guy in front of her was. Sure, she knew she should be freaking out about pixies busting in and trying to kill them, but she ignored the part of her brain that was almost in hysterics over it for the moment. She hadn’t recognized the clan tattoos on their assailants, which could indicate a new clan was trying to move into the area. She didn’t know. She and Lisa weren’t full-blooded pixies—their grandmother leaving her clan years before their mother had been born—so she wasn’t up to date with local politics for her species. Since most pixie men were misogynistic assholes, it was a situation that suited Tessa down to the ground.
To maintain her sanity, she focused on what was right in front of her. Feral was the hottest guy she’d ever seen, with a tall, heavily muscled build that was currently on display as he armed himself. The kind of hot she lusted after on the silver screen. But no matter what fantasies rolled through her mind, she knew he wouldn’t look at her that way. She’d seen kyn women. They were all tall, slender and hauntingly beautiful. There was no way on earth he’d look at her—short, curvy and odd-looking thanks to her pixie blood. At least he hadn’t winced when she’d dropped her glamour earlier in the evening, too tired to maintain it when she knew he could probably see through most of it anyway. She only maintained it when in public and, being honest, it wasn’t the strongest glamour ever. Just something to make her appear a little more human so she didn’t get stared at on the subway.
She watched him with interest from the doorway of his bedroom. She’d known he was dangerous from the moment she’d seen him on her doorstep. She knew enough about the kyn to know the heavy tattoo-like marks across the side of his body and down his arm marked him as a kyn warrior. They were the baddest of the bad, vampires who were born to hunt and kill rogue vampires, those of his kind who had succumbed to blood-rage and considered that anything with a pulse was on the menu. It was one thing to know that intellectually though, and quite another to see him kitting up.
Gone were the well-washed jeans hanging low on his hips, the slight “V” of hair on his washboard stomach that disappeared into his waistband teasing her beyond belief. They were replaced by a near identical pair in black denim over heavy black boots, teamed with a t-shirt that clung lovingly to the heavy muscles of his chest and shoulders. The clothing, combined with the “badass” attitude that surrounded him, was undoubtedly enough to make old ladies crossing the street move to avoid him. And that was before the weaponry was considered. Her eyes had widened when she’d seen the blades in the bag he’d opened on the bed.
His lips quirked as he continued arming up.
“Yup, pretty much so. Got to be when fighting the rogues. We patrol in pairs but there’s always the chance your partner could fall. Then you’re on your own,” he said shortly, his face tight.
A brief flash of anger, a rage so complete, crossed his face and it took Tessa’s breath away. She didn’t need him to spell it out to tell her that something bad had happened in the past, that a partner had gone down. Curiosity filled her, but the forbidding look on his face warned her off.
His movements were deft, appearing to have the ease of long experience as he strapped knives and blades over what seemed like every available body surface. There were sheaths on the insides of his wrists, his thighs, more in the heavy boots, even one that went down his spine.
“You need all that for what you do?” she asked, her curiosity about him increasing. He moved with a grace she found fascinating, retrieving a heavy belt from across the back of a chair in the corner and buckling it around his lean hips. This was a different man from the one she’d been laughing and joking with back in her sister’s apartment.
“Not really, no. They’re mostly backup,” he replied and then shrugged. “These are my main weapons.”
He shifted the heavy belt on his hips and reached to the small of his back. The next second, there were small blades on the backs of his hands. Her eyes widened.
The blades weren’t knives, daggers, or anything that resembled a human weapon. More like heavy knuckle dusters, they fit across his hands, the razor-sharp blades across his knuckles glinting in the overhead light.
“Hmm, those little things?” She frowned. As nasty as they looked, she couldn’t see them do
ing any sort of serious damage.
“Diss the blades. Typical woman,” he grunted, pretending to be insulted as he slid the weapons away with an ease that spoke of long practice, but she saw the smile curve the corner of his lips.
“Oh no, after earlier, believe me, I’m more than happy with whatever you’re packing, sweetheart,” she said with a wink, desperately clinging to humor to get her through the nightmare tonight was turning out to be.
His grin was swift, and dirty. “Whatever I’m packing huh? You sure you can handle it, honey?”
“Oh, you’d better believe it...and if we didn’t need to get out of here, like pronto, Boss Man, I’d be proving it to you.” She reminded him they needed to move.
“Yeah, yeah… is that a threat or a promise?”
His chest expanded in a sigh, a look of frustration written on his handsome face. Reaching down, he zipped the big bag up and slung it over his shoulder.
“Okay, I’m done. Grab the kid and let’s get gone.”
“Mikal, it’s Feral. Oh, fuck it! I hate these damn things,” he muttered as he slid out of the seat of his truck, phone against his ear. He waited impatiently for the beep before speaking again. “Mik, it’s Feral. Got a bit of a situation. Bunch of pixies broke in and trashed my neighbor’s place. I got her out and we’re at the Grey Lady. Give me a call when you’re free, would you, bro? Catch you later.”
He slid the cell into his pocket and reached for the bags Tessa held. “You sure we’re going to be able to get a room?” He eyed the front of the building dubiously. As far as he was aware, most hotels needed advanced bookings, especially places that looked this upmarket.
She looked up at him as she slid from the passenger seat, the baby in her arms. She hadn’t been too happy about traveling without a proper baby seat, arguing with him halfway to the hotel and then resorting to glares. Feral hid his smile, she was even prettier mad. He’d have to wind her up more often.
“We’re lucky to be here at all! What would have happened if the cops had stopped us?” She gritted her teeth. “You’d have gotten a ticket or something and they’d have taken him from us...we’re not his parents. They’d find that out straight away and then where would we be?”
Feral shrugged, the handles of both bags caught easily in one large hand, the other free just in case they got jumped again. “I’m kyn remember? I’d just have pulled a mind trick on them...” He grinned as he waved his hand in what he hoped was a mystical gesture.
Her lips quirked a little, despite the glare she treated him to.
“I see my subtle charm is working as planned. So, what about it? You reckon we’ll get a room here? There aren’t that many paranormal places...” And there weren’t. Feral could count the number of paranormal-friendly hotels in the city on one hand.
Tessa shrugged, setting off toward the door and winking at him over her shoulder. “Bet you dinner I can get us a room.”
He walked with her to the door, his stride shortened to match hers. Reaching out, he opened the door, holding it wide so she could step through ahead of him, and followed her. As he stepped over the threshold, he felt a distinctive shiver down his back, like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over him. He grunted to himself. He’d know that feeling anywhere. The place was warded.
“Wards, protection spells, daylight shutters. You name it, we got it,” a voice at his side announced, almost as though someone had read his thoughts. He turned swiftly, his hand already halfway to the small of his back, to find a woman watching him with a smile on her lips.
She looked so much like Tessa, he had to check she was still on the other side of him and then looked back at the other woman. Short and slender, she was nearly identical; the same height, build, and similar facial features. She only differed in her fashion sense. Whereas Tessa was casually dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, this woman could have stepped right out of an old film.
He shot Tessa a look. “No bet, missy. You get to buy dinner,” he muttered in a low voice before turning to the other woman. She held out her hand.
“Jane Grey, owner of the Grey Lady and Tessa’s aunt,” she said with a bright smile.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he rumbled, taking her smaller hand in his to shake. A tingle washed over his palm and he looked at her a little closer. She looked back at him, her gaze level. Like Tessa, she was a pixie, but wore no glamour so he could see her real, delicately beautiful features. He took a breath, rolling the air over his tongue to pick up if there was anything… other about her. Tessa was half human, that much he could tell, but he couldn’t get a read on her aunt.
“Nice place you got here. I didn’t realize it was paranormal friendly,” he commented, looking around. If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn he’d stepped right into an old English hotel. He even looked back over his shoulder, checking that yes, that was the same car lot he’d parked his truck in.
Jane smiled slightly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Minor aversion ward. Those with a more… warlike disposition, shall we say… rarely consider stepping through our doors. But, those who truly need us will always find their way here.”
He nodded, impressed despite himself. If it was true, it was a clever bit of ward-work, complex and delicately worked. Whichever warden Jane had hired was obviously worth the pretty penny it must have cost.
“Which would be us.” Tessa stepped forward, the baby in her arms. Pulling the knit hat off his head, she revealed the pink hair to her aunt. “He was left on Feral’s doorstep with a note.” She looked directly at Jane, her expression serious. “Apparently, he’s a Morrigan.”
Feral nudged open the door to their room with his shoulder once Tessa had opened it for him. For some reason, it was a complicated procedure that involved both hands—twisting the key one way and the doorknob the other.
“Should have had these fitted at your sister’s place. Pixies would have been there for months working it out.” He winked at her over his shoulder.
“Oi, watch it you! Pixie in the room, remember?” She threw him a look as she followed him. It was a decent sized room—a family suite—with a double bed in the middle and two singles set to the side. Not luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but it was nevertheless clean and functional.
“Yeah, but you’re not just a pixie are you?” he said quickly, digging himself out of the hole he could see looming over him with the ease of long practice. Such skills were necessary when his patrol partner was the psychotic vamp bitch from hell at certain times of the month.
He automatically did a sweep of the room. As promised, the curtains concealed full daylight shutters, a necessity for a vampire traveler, and a quick swipe of his hand over the windowsill had the wards there flaring to life for a second. His eyebrow flitted up. Daylight shutters and heavy duty wards? His estimation of how much money Jane had sunk into the place went up. Way up.
“What do you mean, not just a pixie?” Tessa settled the baby in the middle of the double bed, her voice light. Too light, the slight hesitation before she answered flashing like a neon sign. Feral opened the door to the bathroom, pausing to look inside before he answered. Like the bedroom, it was plain and simple. A fresh lemon scent assaulted his sensitive nostrils… and so clean he could’ve probably eaten a meal off the floor.
“Well, your aunt there... Jane,” satisfied the shutter was the same high quality as the one in the bedroom, he shut the door and turned to her, continuing, “if she’s a day under a hundred, I’ll eat little man’s hat.” He flicked a finger toward the blue fleecy cap covering the baby’s day-glow locks.
Leaning a shoulder against the wall, he folded his arms as he considered her.
She didn’t look at him, tickling the baby and making him giggle. A delaying tactic if ever he saw one. Finally, she looked his way, not directly at him, but toward him. “Don’t be silly. Pixies don’t live that long.”
“I’m kyn, Tessa, not an idiot. I can sense an expanded lifespan when it’s looking me in the f
ace,” he told her firmly. What was it with women and not giving straight answers? Vixen was just like this when she didn’t want to talk. It was like getting blood out of a damn stone.
She chucked the baby under the chin and sat back on the bed, appearing deep in thought. The tension stretched between them, an air of expectancy as Feral waited for her to say something. That was the trick. Not filling the silence with something and giving them an out. That way, they had to say something, and often, the pressure of silence prompted them into revealing things they might not otherwise share.
She sighed. “Okay, Jane’s a little... special,” she admitted, bowing her head for a moment. After swiveling on the bed, she looked at him, her dark eyes earnest. “You have to keep this to yourself, okay? My family has been keeping this secret for generations.” Her focus remained intense.
Slowly, Feral nodded, intrigued. What secret were they keeping? What secret could be so important that a family of pixies, not the most reliable beings in the world, would keep it for generations? “Okay, I promise...cross my heart and hope to die,” he offered, drawing his forefinger across his chest.
Tessa frowned, a little line forming between her brows that he thought was cute, and shook her head. “But you’re a vampire anyway...”
“And?”
“Well, aren’t you like, the living dead and all that?”
Feral laughed. Again, she’d caught him off-guard. “Now, now. You’re a pixie, you know better than that!”
Kyn were demonic, not cursed. Well, not exactly. Some would say their demonic blood cursed them, but Feral, and most other kyn, begged to differ. They were just different, that was all.
She wrinkled her nose, a teasing light in her eyes that heated his blood. A bolt of desire hit him broadside, bringing a low rumble to his throat.
“And don’t try and change the subject, missy!” he warned her with a rumble. “You were telling me about Jane.”
