Kidnapped by the Fae: Paranormal Dark Fae Romance (Fae's Claim Book 5)

by Laxmi Hariharan

  Forget it.

  I prop my hands on my hips, "You going back on your word already?"

  He sets his jaw, "Never."

  "What then?"

  He bends low, thrusts his face into mine, "Run."

  2

  Hawke

  "Will you give me a head start?" She scoots back.

  A better man would have done so.

  A man who played by the rules would not have pursued her in the first place. He’d have let her leave and not gone after her, would have let her live her life as she wanted—away from me, safe from my glare, the need that clings to my insides, twists my guts, hardens my cock and makes me want to throw her down on the bar counter and have her right there… The hell am I thinking? This is Charley, remember? Adopted daughter of my fellow Fae Corps team member. Charley, of the gorgeous curves, and hair—that had once been honey blonde which she now insists on coloring black—that flares about her, as she puts distance between us. Charley, who just turned— "Wait."

  She darts a gaze to the right, then the left.

  "Why were you here in the first place?"

  She twists her fingers in front of her. "What’s it to you?"

  The bartender reaches across the expanse of the counter. "Your drink, sweetheart. Happy Eighteenth—"

  She shoots him a glance.

  "It’s your birthday?" I glare.

  She pales then sidles away, "No matter."

  "It’s a big fucking matter." I turn on the bartender, "And you...? Get gone."

  The man leaves the drink on the counter and scampers off.

  "Temper, temper." She waggles her finger in front of my face.

  I drop my head, lick her pink-tipped digit.

  Her breath hitches. She snatches back her hand and retreats. As if that will keep her safe?

  "Scared?" I smirk.

  "Of course not." She crosses her arms. "And PS, can you make up your mind? You want me to run from you or answer your questions?"

  "Both."

  Her jaw falls open, "You haven't changed one bit."

  "You, on the other hand—" I rake my gaze down her breasts—"have filled out in the few weeks you’ve been away."

  "I'll ignore that." She scowls, "And it's called ‘coming of age.’"

  "Is that why you came here? To celebrate your birthday?"

  "What's it to you?"

  "What did you plan to do?" I peer into her face. "Were you planning on drinking yourself into a stupor?"

  "Among other things." She shuffles her weight from foot to foot.

  "What other things?" Something hot stabs at my chest. "Tell me," I snarl.

  She juts out her chin, "I’d planned on taking someone to my bed. I’d—"

  "Say that again?" My voice lowers to a hush.

  She gulps, "Forget it."

  "No way." I fold my fingers into fists, "So you, what? Planned on getting drunk, then riding a stranger's dick?"

  She shuffles her feet. "Unless..." She chews on her lower lip, and of course, I notice her glistening mouth. My cock twitches. My groin hardens.

  "Unless?" I glare at her, and her chest heaves. She peers up at me from under her eyelashes, "Unless you’re volunteering for it?" She licks her lips and my dick lengthens.

  "Are you, Hawke?"

  "What?"

  She peers up at me from under those sooty eyelashes, "Volunteering?"

  Every muscle in my body hardens. "Volunteering?" I hear my words as if from far away. Insane. I am insane. I’m not actually considering it, am I? No way. She is a teenager… She is eighteen, for fucks’ sake. I am...too old for her.

  "Nah." I widen my stance, study her up and down. "Little girls don’t interest me, Sweetheart."

  My throat hurts and my chest feels as if there’s a knife stuck in it. Fuck this. I am doing this for her own good, so why does it feel as if I am breaking something fragile, something beautiful?

  She pales, then draws herself up to her full height, "You're right."

  "Eh?"

  "You’re not the man for me."

  She pivots, walks away.

  "Charley, stop."

  "On second thought." She half turns, shoots me a glance from under hooded eyelids, "Maybe I'll ask Rafael."

  The blood roars at my temples. "Don't you fucking dare, Char!"

  She presses a finger to her cheek, "See, you really should learn to keep your temper in check, given your advanced age." She flutters her eyelids, "Don't want you collapsing with a cardiac in your old age, do we?"

  My vision tunnels; my ears extend. "Stop trying to get a rise out of me. It won't work."

  "I'm beginning to have my doubts if that..." She pauses, drops her gaze to my crotch, "works."

  A growl rips out of me. My shoulder muscles bunch. The blood pounds at my temples, at my wrists, and my heart races so fast I am sure it's going to snap my rib cage. "Stop it."

  "Okay."

  Pivoting, she heads for the exit.

  Wait, what?

  This is all wrong. I have been following her for the last month, keeping a safe distance, of course. I can’t have her knowing I’ve been stalking her like some pathetic, love-struck teenager. I snort under my breath. More like a creepy daddy figure who is fixated on the little girl who he wants to mess up completely. Fuck. Is it getting hot in here? Sweat beads my temple. I am truly fucked.

  "Wait up." I snarl.

  Without turning, she holds up a finger. Her middle finger.

  "Fuck you, Hawke."

  The sounds of the bar fade into the background. Her words seem too loud. Too final.

  "How dare you turn away from me?" My roar fills the space. Silence descends. She freezes.

  Good. Guess she’s come to her senses.

  She glances at me, "Think you can keep up with me, Mr. Old and Decrepit?"

  "Why you little—" I glare at her. "I am going to spank your backside."

  Her breathing grows ragged. The scent of her arousal seeps into the air. Fuck me, she wasn’t meant to find that arousing. My dick—the stupid appendage—instantly stands to attention.

  Damn everything that has led us up to this point. Damn the first moment I set eyes on her. My life has gone downhill since.

  "First, you have to catch me." She wiggles her fingers at me, "Bye.”

  "Charley...!"

  She races toward the door, her pink dress billowing behind her. What the hell? It’s the middle of winter and she’s wearing something that resembles a slip. Clearly, she intended to use it to seduce the first willing bastard she could find. No doubt she'd sleep with him too.

  I fist my fingers at my side.

  If anyone dares come within ten feet of her, I’ll… I’ll… What? Stop them? Stop her? She is an adult now. She can do what she wants. Including fuck any man she wants. My guts churn.

  Doesn’t mean I can’t protect her from herself, just until she knows what she wants. Which is what? Me? Hell no. I am not the one for her. I cannot trust myself to touch her. And not because I am Fae and she is half human. The barbaric mating practices of the Fae... We are something no woman should ever be subjected to.

  No, I am going to ensure that she doesn’t hurt herself, and that no one else will harm her either.

  "Girl, don’t you dare step out of this bar."

  She pauses at the exit, half angles her body. "Thought we had a bet going on..."

  "That was before you told me the intention with which you’d walked in here."

  "Too late." She waves dismissively. "I am going, and if I were you, I wouldn’t waste a moment before giving chase." She flounces out, then races out of the door.

  She distracted me. Motherfucker. Does she have any idea just how vulnerable she is? Soft. Innocent. So sweet. If anything were to happen to her... No. I take off toward the exit.

  "Charley, stop."

  Brakes screech, then she screams.

  3

  Charley

  I hit the ground, manage to turn, so my hipbone smashes into the concret
e of the road. Sparks of red and white flash behind my eyes. What is happening? One moment I was testing Hawke, enjoying his anger, the way he stalked my every move. I finally had my wish, becoming the center of his attention, except it hadn’t turned out the way I had wanted. I’d teased him, aggravated him, angered him… I’d stood up to him. A chuckle catches in my throat. Then I had run out of there and... A face fills my vision. "You okay?"

  No. I clear my throat. "Yes."

  The stranger holds out his hand. "You came out of nowhere; I am so sorry I didn’t see you."

  "Not your fault," I put up my hand to grab his, when he’s pushed to the side.

  "Get away from her." Hawke drops to his knees, his features pinched, his cheeks pale. "Char." He blinks, reaches for me, then drops his hand. "Your forehead," he croaks.

  I touch my temple, and my fingers come away red.

  Ah, guess I hurt it too. Strange. I thought I hit the back of my head.

  Sirens wail in the distance.

  "Hawke." My heart begins to race, "I don’t want to go to the hospital or anything. I’m fine."

  "You’re not." His jaw tics.

  "No, really, I am." I push myself up to a sitting position. My stomach churns; the blood rushes from my head. "Oh." The world tilts.

  The road rises up to meet me.

  "I got you." Strong arms catch me. "I'm so sorry."

  "For what?" I sniffle.

  "It's my fault. I didn't mean for you to get hurt, little girl." He cradles me close.

  His touch is so light. And that endearment? I hate it and I love it. This entire thing is screwed up. Why do I have such a crush on him? Why do I feel safe with him? And yet, I’ve spent so much of my time running away from him. I strain in his hold; he doesn’t yield. Not one millimeter. That’s Hawke. Immovable. Single-minded. Hard. I gulp. Shove at his chest. Muscles upon muscles folded, packed, throbbing with tension, with need, with lust. There is no man alive who can compete with his sculpted musculature; no body alive who can elicit this height of yearning, that depth of need to wrap myself around him, throw myself at him, beg him to take me right here, right now, then spirit me away from the craziness that my life has become.

  Pain slams behind my eyes and I wince. A whine bleeds from my lips and he freezes.

  "You’re hurting." His voice trembles.

  So strange.

  Hawke is never weak. There is not a single particle of vulnerability in that man. His chest heaves and his breath shudders out of him. The world tilts and I gasp. He straightens with me in his arms. My head spins, darkness threatening at the edges of my subconscious mind.

  "Hawke."

  "I am taking you to the hospital."

  "No." I crack my eyes open.

  Why are his features so pale?

  He frowns, "Your wounds need to be looked at."

  "You do it."

  "What are you afraid of?"

  I chew on my lower lip. How do I explain? Every trip I’ve made to the hospital has ended in pain. The desperation, the scent of antiseptic, the hushed solemnity, death lurking in the corners. I hate institutions of any kind. Hospitals head the list. Any other organized space, like my school at the Fae Corps Complex... Even being on the swimming team had made me rebel. A place where I had to relinquish control? Not what I want. It is my absolute worst nightmare. My breath squeezes in my chest. My heart begins to race. "N…nothing."

  His eyebrows draw down, giving him the look of a pirate. "Don’t lie to me, little girl."

  "I…I’m not."

  "One of these days I am definitely going to spank it out of you."

  "What?"

  "The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

  "Are you a freakin’ judge?""

  "Where you’re concerned," he begins to stride away from the accident scene, "I’m jury and executioner too."

  "Will you punish me?" I hiccup. This entire conversation is insane. I am delirious. There’s no doubt about it.

  His lips twitch. "You bet."

  "Will you take care of me?"

  His pace slows and he glares down his nose. "I’ll never hurt you, sweet thing."

  Hmm, not quite the answer I was looking for.

  An ambulance screeches to a halt, and two orderlies jump out. They head for me. Hawke walks in between them, lowers me to the stretcher. He straightens, and I grab his arm.

  "Stay with me."

  "Who’s he?" One of the orderlies asks.

  "My…"

  "Your...?" He scowls.

  The orderly looks up at him, "Are you immediate family?"

  Hawke hesitates.

  The orderly turns away checks my vitals. The other one covers my face with an oxygen mask.

  They begin to wheel me away. I struggle to sit up and the other one holds me down. "Relax, miss." There’s a sharp pain in my arm, I glance down to find a needle inserted into my skin. My head spins; my stomach roils. No, no. I can’t do this, not on my own. I rear up, throw out a punch. The orderly ducks; my fist grazes his cheek. "Calm down."

  "I want him…he’s my…my…"

  Hawke lunges forward, grabs my outstretched arm. "I am her guardian."

  Guardian? I blink. Does he think of me as his responsibility? Someone young and immature who he needs to take care of? I open my mouth to protest; my guts clench. Bile bubbles up my throat. "I... I think I am going to be sick."

  Hawke's fingers tighten on mine. "Take a deep breath."

  I obey.

  "That's better, hmm?" His hard voice anchors me.

  Another breath, and the sickness subsides.

  I collapse onto the stretcher.

  The paramedic glances from me to Hawke, then nods.

  They strap me in, raise the stretcher into the ambulance. Hawke follows me in. He hasn’t let go of my hand. Sweat slicks my palm; I grip the width of his larger one. His grip is warm, reassuring. I hold onto it. He places his other hand on my forehead. "I got you, little one."

  My throat closes. Tears knock at the backs of my eyes. Damn it, there is nothing to cry about. So what if he is being nice? I mean, Hawke is essentially a rock of a guy. I’ve seen how the other Fae Corps guys depend on him. He's the one who keeps his calm when everyone around him is having a meltdown. Like me. Hysteria bubbles up my throat. I try to breathe, find I can’t. Darkness swirls at the edges of my vision. I reach for my mask, tear it off.

  "Hey." One of the paramedics leans toward me.

  Hawke glares at him, and he swallows nervously, "The oxygen mask, it will help her to breathe."

  Hawke reaches for the mask; I shake my head. "No, please. It’s constricting. It makes me feel trapped."

  Fingers biting into my skin, whispers of a rough hand caressing my cheek, tearing at my hair. Anger, uncertainty boils up my throat. I taste the tang of bile. No, can’t be sick, not now.

  "I am here, little Char." Hawke’s face fills my line of sight. His gaze—dark, stern, so real. Everything that I want. I hold on to the burning sparks in their depths, cling to his grip.

  "I am going to place this mask over your face, okay?" He does just that. The panic swells my chest, fills my lungs. Please. Please.

  "Shh" He lowers his forehead to mine. "Close your eyes."

  I shake my head. If I shut my eyes, he’ll vanish, and I don't want that. I can't give in to the weakness that clings to my fingers, my toes. My limbs tremble. A cold feeling fills my chest.

  "Give in, darlin’, give me all your fears."

  His golden gaze bores into me. His body surrounds me. A low hum vibrates up his chest. Heat from his body surrounds me, coils me in its grasp. "Let go, little one."

  His voice cocoons me. The tension drains from me; my eyelids flutter down. I float in the dark.

  Warmth holds me in that suspended place between sleep and wakefulness, life and death. In that in-between world where everything is a whisper of the past, the future. Today, it's me. Here. On my own. Alone.

  I am alone.

  Running away
from the thing that haunted my childhood years; which had enclosed me, in the deepest recesses of my mother’s closet. Images from my childhood fill my mind.

  "Here, kitty, kitty."

  My father's voice is hoarse. He titters.

  A shudder ladders up my back. I don’t like him. Mama acts all funny around him. She giggles and simpers, unlike how she is with me. Ma’s a strong woman. She’s always making my favorite cookies. The ones that make me drowsy enough that I want to curl into my bed and fall asleep. Today, I'd crawled in here, amongst Ma’s clothes. The scent of her perfume surrounds me. I draw it in. So reassuring. So sweet.

  "I know where you’re hiding, and when I find you, you are going to find out what happens to children who disobey their elders."

  Hmph. I press my lips together. I am not a child. I’m almost ten. Ma tells me I am a little lady. She likes to dress me up in her clothes, paint my lips red, wind her pearls around my neck. She also makes me wear her heels. I hate them. I much prefer my sneakers. I peek down at my feet. Golden Chucks. They are a size too big for me; too bad. I’ll grow into them, Ma says. Soon my breasts will fill out, and then I’ll be a woman. And much more useful to her. I frown. I don’t understand that.

  I want to grow up, yet I also want to play.

  "I have your favorite doll with me, and if you don’t come out right now Charlotte, I am going to tear her to pieces."

  I peer through the crack between the closet doors, then flinch.

  No, not Shoshanna! My little dolly has a very grown up name. "Shush Shoshanna, don’t you cry, mommy’s gonna sing you a lullaby." I hum the tune under my breath.

  My father stiffens. He angles his head toward the closet. I squeeze my fingers tighter, lock my knees. No. I didn’t giveaway my hiding place, I couldn’t have. I don’t want him to find me. Where are you when I need you, Ma? A sob catches in my chest.

  He holds up Shoshanna by her long hair, "If you don’t come out, I am going to cut off her hair first." He produces a pair of scissors, "Then yours. How would you like that—to have your hair shorn off, little girl? You’d look more like a little boy then." I am stronger than any of those boys. I can fight them all and win. I’d done it when they’d called my mother names. Whore, pr-ost-i-tute… I know they are insults.