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

by Laxmi Hariharan

  There’s a touch on my shoulder. I pivot to be met by hard blue eyes. A woman looks me up and down, "You seem lost."

  I return her scrutiny. Take in the hair that was teased and crimped to within an inch on its life—nothing like the lush, natural locks that I prefer.

  Fuck, stop thinking about Charley.

  I smile, turn on the charm. She gulps.

  Yeah, it is that easy to get my way with women… One crook of my finger… Not even. A tilt of my head, a raised eyebrow, and they throw themselves at my feet. Spread their legs, part the lips of their pussies, and ask me to fuck them.

  She touches my hand. My skin shrivels.

  Her smile widens.

  She leans forward and her blouse slips down. I look down at the generous expanse of cleavage spread in front of me.

  Her tits are too big.

  Nothing like the tight, curvy breasts that belong to a woman who is young enough to be my daughter. Fuck. I jerk my chin, turn away.

  "Hey." She frowns.

  I raise my finger, "One second, darlin'."

  She whines, "But..." I glare at her and she subsides.

  Exactly the kind of reaction I wanted. My chest tightens. She’s not the one I want.

  My gut crawls with the need to get the fuck out of here. To return to my woman who is lying helpless.

  Stop thinking about Charley that way. She’s not your woman. She’s nothing to you. The sooner I relinquish her to another, the faster I can get the hell out of here. I pull out my cellphone, dial a number I’d done my best to forget… Tried so hard, in fact, that its digits are burned into my memory.

  Being part of the Fae Corps means we have access to old world technology—something 99.9% of the population covets, and which is close to invaluable in the underground. It is stupid to do this here, where it could catch the attention of anyone walking by—not that I care.

  Danger—that’s what I want.

  Let someone challenge me, and they won’t walk out of this bar on their own steam, for sure.

  "Wow, you someone important?" Big tits simpers.

  I shoot her a glance, "Always."

  Her pupils dilate. Fuck, what is it that these women love to be dominated? And not that long ago, pre-the girl-who-shall-no-longer-be-named days, I’d have gladly obliged. Now? There's only one woman I want to subjugate.

  Only the softness of her skin against mine, the thickness of her hair wrapped around my hand as I yank her head back, expose the curve of her neck, bury my nose in her throat and inhale the scent, right before I sink my teeth into her neck and mark her. Take her. Mate her... No fucking way.

  The woman sidles closer, pushes her breasts into my arm. My stomach churns. I swallow down the bile that threatens to rise.

  Damn it, why am I physically repulsed by the proximity to another woman? Fuck this.

  I slide off the barstool, make my way into the hallway behind the bar. The noise fades to a hum.

  I punch in the number of the man I’d sworn to kill after he'd left with Charley. The man whose phone number I had tried so hard to forget that it was carved into my brain. It was, of course, thanks to that, that I had managed to track them halfway across the world. Only they’d kept eluding me…until now.

  It rings, then a man’s voice comes online, "Hello?"

  Am I actually going to do this? Give up the most precious thing in my life, to the man I consider to be my worst enemy? I take a deep breath. "Rafael?"

  There’s silence.

  "It’s Charley." I swallow, squeeze the bridge of my nose, "She needs your help."

  Silence, then, "You’re telling me this, why?" His voice is cautious.

  "I’m not the man for the job… Clearly, you’ve done better than me. Take care of her." My hold on the phone tightens.

  "It’s not what it seems, Hawke—"

  "What-fucking-ever." Get a grip, don't lost your temper.

  I dig my fingers in my hair and tug. It shouldn’t be this hard. All I am doing is making sure she is with someone closer in age to her, someone who will take care of her, not constantly put her in danger, or insult her and hurt her. "She’s at the St Georges' Hospital at King’s Cross."

  "What the—?"

  "She was in an accident; you’d better get there."

  Silence.

  "Rafael?"

  "So that’s it?" His voice is hard, "You’re giving up?"

  "Fuck off." I lower my chin.

  "Didn’t take you for a quitter."

  I snarl aloud.

  "You’re a stubborn mofo," He grumbles.

  "I don't need your character reference."

  He swears aloud. "You love the woman. Why don’t you give yourself a chance with her?"

  "Because I’m too fucking old for her."

  "So what?"

  "I’m all wrong for her."

  "Keep telling yourself that."

  I grind my teeth so hard that pain shoots up my jaw. "I don’t need you telling me what is or is not good for me. I’ve made up my mind."

  He draws in a breath.

  "So, you're not interested in her?"

  "No."

  "You’re fine if I make a play for her?"

  Something hot stabs in my chest. Anger sweeps up my spine, I clench my fingers, pull the phone away from my ear.

  "Hawke…you there?" His voice crackles, "Don’t throw the cellphone, asshole. These things are fucking expensive to come by."

  Fuck I care?

  "You won’t be able to stay in touch with the Fae corps."

  Good.

  "Or me."

  Even better.

  "You won’t be able to speak with her again. If you do call, I’ll ensure that she never finds out."

  That’s what I want.

  "I’ll fuck her—"

  I wedge it between my shoulder and ear, "Don’t you fucking dare, you bastard, you—"

  "That’s what I thought."

  Smug bastard. "Bitch, when I get ahold of you I—"

  "Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Just trying to prove a point."

  "Oh, and what’s that?"

  "That you care for her. You can’t let go of her, Hawke."

  "Watch me."

  He swears aloud.

  I grimmace, "You going to the hospital to take care of her or what?"

  "Since one of us had better act like he has his head screwed on right? Yes. What’s the address?"

  I give it to him. Hang up. Then stare at my phone. Raising it above my head, I smash it into the ground. I bring my foot down on it and smash the screen for good measure. Doesn’t help.

  I return to the bar, head for the one empty barstool, which happens to be the one I’d vacated earlier. "Whiskey," I growl at the bartender. He places a glass in front of me, begins to pour into a glass.

  "I’ll take that." I grab the bottle from him.

  "Hey."

  I pull out a wad of cash, fling it at him. "Keep the change."

  He pockets it, then glances past me. "Looks like you have company."

  "About bloody time." I raise the bottle to my lips, glug down the liquid. The alcohol burns down my throat. I empty the rest of the liquid, thump the bottle back on the bar. My stomach seems to explode with a lick of flames. A pleasant heat spreads to my extremities.

  "Uh, bet your ability to hold your alcohol is not the only thing that’s impressive about you, huh?" The same woman pulls her bar stool closer.

  I glance straight ahead. Sure, I recognize the come on for what it is.

  "What say you and I get a room upstairs and—"

  Someone crashes into me from the back. The bar stool tips. I grab the counter, steady myself, then turn around, "The fuck?"

  "Gimme the rest of your cash." A man as tall as me, not halfway as well-built, tosses his head.

  "You kidding me?" I raise my hand, snap my fingers. As if by magic, a bottle of whiskey is placed in my palm. Good man. I lower the opened bottle to my lips, swig from it.

  The man makes a g
rab for it. I duck, then lower my head and butt him in the chest. He crashes into the crowd behind him. Three men turn around. One of them growls; the other cracks his knuckles. The third charges me. Oh, good. The woman yelps.

  "Get out of here." I toss the words at her, then drink from the bottle, weave to the left. The man smashes into the counter. Just like that the entire bar seems to explode.

  A bar stool comes at me. I drop down, sweep the legs out from one man. Then spring up, and crash my head into the jaw of another. There’s a lull for a beat. Then, five men rush me simultaneously.

  Finally, fuck.

  I chug down the rest of the alcohol, raise the empty bottle and smash it into the temple of the first. He howls, reels back. Two others jump forward, grab me on each side. I growl, try to pull free. Another man buries his fist in my gut. Motherfucker. Pain explodes up my solar plexus. He follows it up with another and another. I steel my muscles, kick out, catch his knee. He screams, lurches back. Another man looms.

  He raises his fist, swings at my face. "Dimitri says hello."

  7

  A week later

  Charley

  Footsteps sound behind me. I hunch my shoulders against the cold breeze that blows in off the Thames. I hate this city, the freezing temperatures of the winter that seem to sink into my bones, and make me want to wrap myself in a duvet, and stay in bed, or better still, in front of a roaring fire with a cup of hot chocolate; a hot toddy would be better. Yeah, that’s what I am going to treat myself to, as soon as I get home. I hurry and the echo of boots hitting cobblestones picks up in tandem. Don’t look back; don’t. It’s nothing. This is not the first time I have had this sensation of being watched. Goosebumps flare on my skin. Nah, it is my imagination working overtime. That’s all it is. Since the accident I’ve been skittish. Blame it on my nerves. Maybe the incident shook my self-confidence. Or maybe the problem is that Hawke stalked out of my life. Again. The asshole had taken my words literally. He had fucked off. Not to be seen again. Not a whisper. Not a peep. Rafael had tracked me down in the hospital, had found me a place to stay.

  He’s been a rock all this time.

  We’d left Singapore together, and really, it had been a stunt—the kind that was meant to get Hawke’s attention. Make him jealous so he’d come after me. Or so I had thought. And my ruse had worked. He’d followed us, tracked us. We’d given him the slip in three cities across Asia and then we'd reached London.

  We should have left by now, yet, the thought that Hawke might return for me, is why we'd decided to stay on.

  After all, this is where I last saw him. Surely, he wouldn’t abandon me, right?

  At least, that’s what my instinct tells me. Or maybe it is simply wishful thinking. Either way, I’d wanted to stay on, and Rafael had agreed.

  He had run into some old friends who’d lent us a house in the East End. It had been rent free, and that had sealed the deal.

  Throughout the journey, I've pick up odd jobs in coffee shops and bars in whichever city we happen to be in. Rafael prefers to work odd jobs in construction. He prefers the physical labor, he says. To each his own, I guess.

  All in all, he's been a gentleman—my self-appointed guardian who has tried very hard to pull me out of the strange mood I’ve fallen into.

  I seem to be waiting for something… For him, you stupid girl. You are waiting for him. The beast of a man who can reduce anyone into a quivering mess... Especially me.

  There are some days I wake up with the taste of him, the scent of him, the warmth of his skin clinging to mine. The presence of him that infiltrates every cell in my body. The thickness of those thighs that had surrounded me. The comforting weight that had held me down. The gorgeous lips that had fucked my mouth… Yeah, no other way to describe it. It had been mouth-sex, pure and simple, that we’d indulged in, enough for me to orgasm to its memory many times since.

  Fuck you, Hawke. I mutter under my breath.

  The footsteps stop suddenly. All of my senses tingle. Something is not right. I pick up my pace; the wind dies down. It's too quiet. The darkness encircles me, creeping in, smothering me. Here, Kitty, Kitty.

  My breathing speeds up. A sob catches in my chest. I'm imagining things; that's all it is.

  A cough echoes off the building nearby. I break into a run, but someone grabs me from behind. No. I scream. A heavy hand on my mouth cuts it off. "Hello, sweet thing."

  The scent of dry ice envelops me. Something pricks the side of my neck. Darkness consumes me.

  So dark. So hot. Sweat beads my forehead, slinks down my spine. I try to move, but my head hurts.

  I moan, stretch my arms. Something heavy drags me down. I try to move my legs… Wait… I can’t feel them. What happened to my legs? I crack my eyes open and I can’t see anything. Panic grips me; my heart begins to thud in my chest. My pulse rate spikes. What’s happening? Where am I?

  I open my mouth; the sensation of something rough scratches my tongue. My throat closes and a ball of something lodges in my chest. Where am I? What’s happening? A touch on my shoulder and I scream. Then I am being lifted. My arms are twisted behind my back.

  "She’s awake."

  "Why is she stirring? She should be out."

  "You didn’t use enough drugs."

  Something pricks my arm. A dark warmth laces my blood. My limbs grow heavy and darkness pulls me under.

  The next time I open my eyes, it’s too bright. My head hurts. I swallow and my throat burns. Where the hell am I? I scan the space—faded tiles, a massive crack on the wall that runs up and halfway across the ceiling. Damp patches blot the peeling paint. I draw in a breath and cry out. My ribs hurt. My head aches. I huff, push myself to a sitting position. A grinding sound fills the space. I jerk my head toward the exit. The door opens and a man towers in the space. His frame blocks out the light behind him. My heart begins to race.

  Is it? "Hawke?" I cough.

  The man steps in and the scent of dry ice tickles my nostrils.

  "Afraid not."

  His accent is cultured. Definitely not the alpha Fae I’d hoped it would be.

  The man strides in and comes to a stop in front of me.

  I tilt my head back and his dark gaze clashes with mine. "I am sorry my men resorted to this unnecessary violence." He clicks his tongue. "When will they realize that they need to handle the merchandise with more skill?"

  "Merchandise…" I gulp. "What…do you mean?"

  "You've evaded us every step of the way. That accident there... It was a close call. I killed the men who caused it."

  "Wait. What?" I twist my fingers together. "I ran out of the bar and a car grazed me."

  "Those were my men."

  "You’ve been tracking me?"

  "Not easily, since the Fae Corps male has been protecting you. He’s fought us off a few times, hasn’t allowed anyone to come near you, until..."

  The pulse thuds at my temples. "Until?" A coldness grips my heart. "What did you do to him?"

  "What do you think?" He tilts his head; his features take on an expression of polite curiosity.

  "You... you couldn't have hurt him." My throat closes.

  "It's what the interfering Fae Corps soldiers deserve." He widens his stance. "I’ve had enough of them getting in the way. Spoiling my plans. This time, I intend to ensure that there is one winner, and I can assure you, it won't be them.”

  "Where is he?"

  He raises his gaze skyward and my heart hammers. My guts churn, and bile laces the back of my throat. "What have you don’t to him?" I stutter.

  "If you mean, did I kill him? Well…" He tilts his head, "What do you think?"

  Something inside of me snaps. Adrenaline spikes my blood. "You monster!" I launch myself at him. I crash into his legs, and the element of surprise must be on my side, because he sways, then topples backward. The back of his head hits the ground. The thud reverberates through the floor. I spring up as every part of my body protests. I ignore it and jump on his chest.
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  His body shudders. Then he swoops, and grabs my ankle. I fall toward him. Twist my body at the last second, crash into the floor. Pain slices up my shoulder and I scream.

  He swoops down, grabs me by my collar and hauls me to my feet. My toes dangle off of the ground. My throat closes and my lungs burn. His grip tightens, then he flings me aside. I collide with the wall, white sparks flash behind my eyes, then everything goes dark.

  8

  Hawke

  Sweat beads my palms. A thud trembles up my spine, and I crack my eyelids open. I peer through the dim light that flows in from the window high up near the ceiling. Yank at my hands and find they’ve been pulled up and to the sides above me. The hell? Glance down and find I am tied spread-eagled. And I am naked. Where are my clothes? I tug at the chains. The spiked links stab into my arms, around my ankles... Blood runs down my biceps, pools in my underarms.

  Where am I?

  Another thud reaches me. I tilt my head, strain my ears. Was that a cry I heard? No, can’t be. There’s silence for a beat, then another. The nape of my neck tingles.

  This is not good. The last I remember is being in a bar fight. Motherfucker had gotten to me; he’d sunk his fist in my face and I’d seen stars. At least I’d managed to get in a few blows. How the hell had I let down my guard? How had I managed to be beaten, and so quickly? I’d been inebriated, yes. Of course, that's why I’d headed to the bar. I’d left her unguarded.

  My heart begins to thud. Dimitri. The man had said Dimitri sent him. That fucker is worse than a cockroach. The number of times the Fae Corps has tried to kill him, and yet he’s survived? What the fuck does he want? Revenge?

  At least, I’d managed to send Rafael to the hospital to guard her. He must have gotten there in time, right? My gut churns. I shake my head to clear it. She is safe; she has to be. Darkness tugs at my subconscious.