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

by Laxmi Hariharan

I draw in a breath. Don’t know what I’d thought I’d accomplish by calling him, but it hadn’t been this. They’d given me permission to…to take care of her.

  Is that what I am doing? I walk out of the study.

  What I have in mind for her… It is a means of helping her move on with life. One I am going to enjoy immensely. My steps slow. My guts churn. It’s not right.

  She may have asked me to fuck the past out of her, but I know better. I’d be replacing those memories with something like hope. Something I can’t live up to. Not unless I ensure that she comes out of this experience hating me, never wanting to see me again.

  I have to ensure she will break all ties with me, first chance she gets.

  I head toward the staircase, take the steps two at a time. Reaching the door to the bedroom, I wrench it open. She jolts, stares at me. Tracks me as I survey the space. Spot the empty bottle of water on the side table. Walking to it, I grip the glass, then smash it into the edge of the table. The glass shatters. She winces.

  I hold up the jagged edge of the broken bottle, then lean toward her.

  23

  Charley

  Alphahole had let me stew here, on my back, bound and trussed, and gone off to god-knows-where. Now he looms above me, his thick fingers grasping the neck of the bottle. He places a knee on the bed and the mattress dips.

  I gulp. "What…what are you doing?"

  He swings his leg over my waist, straddling me without touching me. The bed groans under his weight. My heart begins to race.

  "You afraid of me, Char?"

  Yes.

  "No." I shake my head. "Of course not."

  "You should be." His jaw firms.

  He glances at the broken bottle he holds in his hand. His features harden further. He's closing himself off again, retreating to that part inside of him where the darkness lives, pulls at him, seduces him to give in to his dark side, a part where he won't let me in. "Hawke?"

  His gaze turns unseeing. "He hurt you, Char. He took you captive."

  "You rescued me."

  "Fucker laid his hands on you." With his free hand he wraps his fingers around my neck. "If I see him again, I swear, I'll wipe all trace of him from this plane."

  His grip around my neck tightens.

  "Hawke," I cough. "I can't breathe."

  The pressure increases; black spots fleck at the edges of my vision.

  I start thrashing my head, bucking my torso under him, trying to dislodge his hand, but it’s hopeless

  Suddenly, his shoulders jerk. "What the—?" He removes his hand, his face pale. "Shit, Char." He glances at his palm, then back at my face. "I'm sorry."

  I swallow, then cough again. "It's okay," I sputter.

  "No. It isn't." He glares at me. "This is why I should keep away from you. I'm fucking unpredictable when it comes to you."

  I open my mouth to speak, but he shakes his head.

  "You drive me crazy, Char. You force me to face the demons I carry inside of me. You make me want to unleash the bad, to take your pretty body in every way I’ve imagined, and do unspeakable things to you. If you only knew half the stuff I've carried around in my head, the visions I've had of how I want to take you, mark you, rub my cum into your luscious lips, dribble my essence over your gorgeous breasts, paint it into every inch of your skin until you smell like an extension of me."

  My sex clenches, my belly twists, and heat sears up my spine. "That...that was the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me."

  His lips twist. He pulls back his ears, then leans in so close that I can make out every crease that lines his beautiful face. He snaps his teeth and I jump.

  "This is not one of your girlish dreams." He growls. "I am not Prince Charming."

  "And I am no Beauty."

  "Except." He scans my features.

  "Except?" I swallow.

  "Even with everything you've been through, you're pure at your core. You're more Snow White than you give yourself credit for."

  "Change that, Hawke," I plead. "Use me. Take the hurt inside of me and heal yourself, as you heal me." I hold his gaze.

  "You don't want someone as tainted as me, someone who has seen the kind of filth that has marked my soul forever. Someone who may never come back from the darkness."

  "Then we'll face the light together."

  He shakes his head. His lips twist. "Didn't you hear what I said?"

  "If you think you can scare me…" My voice shakes, negating what I just said. Shit. I am not afraid of him, I'm not... But when he gets like this, so intense, so entrenched in that lethal, deadly part of him that both attracts me and frightens me... Well... My pussy clenches and my pulse begins to race.

  I slouch back into the mattress, trying to put distance between us.

  He tilts his head. I cringe. He drops down to grip my chin. I wrench my head to the side; he holds me in place. "You were saying?"

  I flinch.

  "You don't scare me." My chin wobbles.

  "You're a terrible liar." His nostrils flare, his chest heaves, and one side of his lips curls.

  Damn the man. He is aware of exactly how petrified I am of him in this moment. I tip up chin. "You’re trying to test me."

  "Oh?" He reaches down, places the jagged edge of the bottle against my shoulder. I cringe.

  "You won’t hurt me."

  "So sure of yourself?"

  "You saved me, Hawke. You brought me here to keep me safe; you aren’t going to let anyone else hurt me…"

  "Ah. " He drags the jagged edge over the curve of my shoulder. Coldness seeps into my blood. He doesn’t break the skin, continues down to the valley between my breasts.

  My nipples instantly harden. Why does the thought of violence from him turn me on? Am I so warped that I confuse desire with the need for hurt?

  Have I been so tainted by everything that happened to me that I’ll never be able to enjoy lust for what it is? A means to enjoy myself. Will the need for intimacy always be mixed with the thirst for pain?

  "You’re overanalyzing things."

  I lower my brows.

  "Clearly, I am not doing my job well enough if you're still thinking."

  He traces a path down my belly and I shiver. He brings the jagged point to the edge of my lower belly and my thighs clench.

  "I don’t think you’re ready yet."

  I frown.

  “I think you need to think about what it is you really want from me.”

  My jaw drops open. The hell? After everything we've confessed to each other, that’s all he has to say?

  "What are you trying to tell me?"

  "This." He raises the broken edge. I flinch, squeeze my eyes shut. I sense him move. The next instant my hands drop down to the bed. I blink. He cut my restraints? He shoves off of me, walks over to the foot of the bed. He cuts the ropes that bind my ankles.

  I shake my legs, rub at my wrists. What the hell is he up to? I track him as he begins to pace. He clutches the broken bottle in his hand.

  There’s silence a beat, then another. The thud of his footsteps fills the space.

  "What…what’s wrong?" I clear my throat.

  "Nothing's wrong."

  He stalks to one corner of the room, then turns, struts back to the other end. I take in the way his pants cup his tight butt. His powerful thighs propel him forward, the muscles coiling, unwinding. The planes of his back—his still naked back—shift and undulate. His massive body shuts out the sight of the room behind him as he prowls past my line of sight. My mouth dries; moisture pools between my thighs. I pull my body tighter into a ball.

  Something’s not right. What’s bothering the big guy? It’s so much easier when he’s acting true to form—obnoxious, full of himself, raging and ranting, not allowing me to get a word in. This...when he…seems to have developed a conscience all of a sudden... I stiffen. "You spoke to my sister and brother-in-law?"

  He winces, then his shoulders hunch for a second. Finally, he draws himself up to his full height
again.

  "I knew it." Goosebumps dot my skin. I shiver, then grab the comforter that had been kicked to a corner of the bed.

  He stops pacing, watches as I wrap the soft fabric around myself. "They told you to back off, huh? And pussy that you are you—"

  A growl rips from him. I glance up.

  Amber eyes bore into me. "They didn’t."

  "Huh?" I lower my brows.

  "Quite the opposite." He cracks his neck and his joints pop. "The two of them think I’d be good for you. Imagine that?" He widens his stance. "They think I am the man to take care of you. Apparently, the age gap qualifies me to be your custodian, which I am not."

  "No?" I rest my chin on my knees. "What are you then?"

  "Nothing."

  I freeze.

  "I am nothing to you, and I intend to keep it that way."

  "Thought you wanted my complete dependence on you for all of my needs?"

  His nostrils flare; the tendons of his throat move as he swallows.

  "What was it you said? You wanted me to not only submit but also be your captive? To be at your utter mercy?"

  His chest increases in size further. His biceps seem to swell. The tips of his ear extend, and I blink. A low thrum ignites in my belly. He’s angry, livid at… What? I am not sure. But Hawke in the throes of some kind of crisis, one I can’t quite identify with, is…endearing and hot. "Don’t beat yourself up so much, old man."

  His glare deepens, "Don’t fucking push it, little girl."

  I frown. "You’re the one who cannot accept what we are to each other."

  "What is that?"

  "We’re soul mates, Hawke."

  "No."

  "Even Jess and Tristan see it. Everyone else gets it, except you."

  His features harden. The tendons of his neck flex.

  Adamant alpha Fae. "You’re denying the truth that’s been staring you in the face from the second we met." I stab my finger at him.

  "You’re spinning stories in the air. Making up something that fits your romantic notions." He waves his hand, and the broken bottle glints in the fading light that streams in the front window.

  "My romantic dreams?" I spring onto the bed, pull the spread closer, then move to stand at the foot of the bed. "You’re the one running scared. Admit it, you feel something for me. You want me, Hawke, more than anything else in the world. You want to own me, to make me yours, keep me hidden away from everyone. You have this burning desire to meld your essence with mine; it’s why you brought me here."

  His muscles freeze and the skin of his knuckles stretches white. He doesn’t move. His chest planes are still. Is he breathing?

  "You don’t want to accept me, but you don’t want anyone else getting to me either, right?"

  His jaw tics. A vein throbs at his temple.

  I stomp to the edge of the bed, lean forward on the balls of my feet. "Make up your mind, asshole, or relinquish all rights to me."

  Anger pours from him and slams me square in the chest. My knees buckle. Shit, shit. I shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have prodded the beast within. But what choice did he leave me? It is now or never. I twist my fingers in the sheets. I had come so close, so close to getting what I wanted. A heaviness thrums at the backs of my eyes. I have to push him until his controls snaps. Do it.

  "Or perhaps you’d rather help me find someone who is worthy of me?"

  24

  Hawke

  "Fine."

  I hear my voice as if from far away. The fuck am I saying? Take it back. Put aside your goddam ego. The anger, the uncertainty, all of those strange emotions that turn inside of me. A heaviness crawls in my gut. I can’t… I can’t accept what she’s offering. I’d give anything to protect her. I’d give up my life for her… But allowing myself to take what so naturally feels mine? I cannot do that. It’s wrong.

  I’m wrong for her.

  "They asked me to take care of you, and that’s what I intend to do. I have your best interests at heart, Charley." I lower my arm, hold onto the broken bottle as if it is a lifeline.

  Her chest heaves. Her chin wobbles.

  Fuck. Don’t cry. If you do, I won't be able to stop myself from gathering you close and giving you what you need.

  "Last chance." She lowers her hands. The comforter falls from her grasp. Her beautiful body is bared to my gaze—her gorgeous breasts, pert nipples, the indentation of her bellybutton, the slight swell of her lower belly, dipping to the juicy center of her core. She cups her palm between her legs. "If you let me go, this pussy will belong to someone else."

  A growl rips out of me. When she skitters back, I realize that I have bridged the distance between us. My knees knock against the footboard of the bed. With her on a higher level, she still comes only to my chest. That’s how tiny she is. How fragile. She wants me to paint her insides with my cum, imprint my name in her cells… But she’d never be able to withstand it. Even if she could… I cannot stand to see her suffer; definitely not from me.

  I squeeze my fingers around the bottle, bear down with all of my strength. The glass shatters and shards stick in my fingers. Tendrils of pain creep up my arm. Good. I focus on it. On the sensation of numbness that follows in its wake. The drops of blood that slide down my fingers. She glances down, pales. "Damn you, Hawke, you hurt yourself again."

  I scrunch my fingers together, digging the sharp slivers deeper into my flesh. "I’ll heal."

  She swerves to the side of the bed, jumps down. "Let me see that."

  "Stay away."

  She flinches.

  "Hawke..."

  "I mean it, Charley. Whatever it was between us, it’s over."

  "Just like that?"

  "Your family understands that I have your best interests at heart."

  "Do you, though?" She plants her palms on her hips. "Your needs, your fears. They are blinding you, Hawke."

  I look her up and down, "I’ve never seen so clearly."

  Her spine curves. She turns her head away as if I’d backhanded her. Bloody, hell!

  "I’ll be ready to teleport by tomorrow morning."

  "So soon?" She pivots to face me.

  "I'll call for backup."

  Her lips firm. "So that’s it."

  "No."

  "Then?"

  "Once we return, I suggest you keep your distance from me."

  "Oh, I will." She brushes past me, raises a leg to step past the scattered bits of glass.

  "Wait."

  She glances up.

  I flick my fingers and my telekinetic energy sparks from my fingertips. The shards of glass rise up in the air.

  She hisses out a breath.

  I twirl the pieces into a cloud, ease them away from her toward the dustbin in the corner. Popping open the lid, I drop them in.

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome." So fucking polite, as if I hadn't allowed everything that is important to me to walk away. I stalk her progress until she reaches the door.

  "Charley."

  She pauses, turns to scan my features. Her eyes glimmer. With hope? With expectation? A hot sensation stabs at my chest. I lock my thighs, thrust out my chest.

  "Don’t forget your clothes."

  She marches back in, head high, cheeks pale. Moving to where her clothes have been dumped in a puddle on the floor, she picks them up, shimmies into her panties, then her skirt. She shrugs into her loose blouse; her back curves.

  My dick twitches; my gut clenches. Damn it, why's she teasing me? Why the hell can’t she simply get the hell out? I force myself to watch her, hold her gaze when she turns. Fully clothed, her bare feet make no noise as she glides to the door.

  "Tomorrow morning," I call out as she steps past the threshold.

  She raises her middle finger above her shoulder.

  The fuck—?

  I stop, take in a deep breath. I will not lose it. Will not. I turn, stalk to the door of the bathroom. Dropping my pants, I walk into the shower, turn the dial to cold. I step unde
r it. The water pours down my shoulders, my chest. I slap my bruised hand against the wall, then grab my dick with the other. A long swipe from base to head, then another. Pink lips, swollen breasts, her melting pussy. The sugary scent of her arousal, the slight moans she makes when she is aroused. The softness of her skin giving under my touch, the ripe curve of her hips, her cunt opening, giving, surrendering to the invasion of my dick. Fuck. The vibrations tug at my belly—tighter, tighter. I increase the pace of my strokes, the sound of flesh slapping flesh filling the space. I squeeze my heavy length, allow myself to extend, then flatten my forehead against the wall as my climax roars up. Heavy ropes of cum stream out, coat the wall, only to be dragged away by the flowing water. I stay there until the wounds on my palm close, until my dick stands semi-hard, my thigh muscles locked.

  Turning the water off, I step out of the shower stall.

  I stagger out to the bed, then flop face down. The scent of her fills my senses a-n-d... I am instantly hard again.

  I rub my cheek on the pillow, draw in her essence. Something inside me expands; I embrace the feeling, roll onto my back, wallowing in this part of her. I can allow myself to indulge this much, right?

  My muscles relax.

  Perhaps it's the fact that I’ve made my decision, or that I’ve managed to rein in my desire and stay away from her, but sleep overcomes me. Darkness pulls me under.

  The voices echo, follow me. Children playing. I am climbing up the tree, pursued by my cousin.

  "Hawke." I glance down to find my mother holding up a piece of my favorite chocolate cake. "You’re missing your treats."

  I frown. Hmm. What should I do? Head back down and get it or—

  "Psst."

  I look up.

  My cousin Oswald aka Ossie, aka pain in my butt, waggles his eyebrows. "Come on, chicken."

  "But—"

  He snickers. "Mama’s boy, I’ll race you to the top"

  I glower back, "I’m gonna beat your ass—"

  "Hawkins." Ma admonishes me, "you mind your tongue, young man!"

  "Ugh." I wrinkle my nose. "Sorry mama, I have to race him first."

  "Stay safe."

  "Always." I chorus my rehearsed response, begin to climb. By the time I reach the top of the tree, I am breathless. I grab hold of Oswald’s leg, "Gotcha." I tug and he slides down.