by Holley Trent
He yanked the strap and worked the tongue into the buckle.
“Don’t travel by automobile very often?” she asked.
“No. The crew travels on bikes because riding as singles makes us splitting up when necessary easier, and so we’re not confined to any particular team configuration.”
“But, you all have partners, right?”
“In a sense. Most of us have someone with us who’s familiar with how we fight and knows how to cover our weaknesses. Thom covers Prince Heath and vice versa. I usually pair off with Sully. The girls tend to work as a trio, just out of convenience, though Princess Siobhan often handles business on her own when she gets in a certain kind of mood.”
Dasha started backing out, only to slam on the brakes even harder than she had the first time. Scowling into the rearview mirror, she said, “What the hell is she doing?”
“Who?” Ethan turned, and immediately regretted having done so.
Laurel stood behind the car, stone-faced and still as a statue.
“The fuck?” Dasha tapped on the horn.
“Don’t bother.” He released his seatbelt, pushed his door open, and then slammed it.
He stormed to the back of the car, took Laurel by the shoulders, and turned her in the general direction of her room. “You need to move.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Out.”
“With her?”
“My prerogative.”
Rather than returning to her room, she made a beeline for the driver’s window and tapped on the glass. “Excuse me! Could you let your window down?”
Dasha pushed up an eyebrow at her and most certainly did not let her window down. In fact, she locked the doors. Ethan heard the click.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ethan asked Laurel.
Laurel wagged a finger at him and shook her head. “This is against all the rules. You know better.”
“Which rules?”
“I didn’t agree that you could take an outside companion.”
“And I never agreed to be with you period,” he said.
Dasha backed the car out, then away.
She was on the road pointed toward the drive-up before Ethan could get his wits about him and figure out what the hell was happening. She probably saw him bickering with Laurel and wrongly assumed that they were lovers when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Ethan’s truth, anyway, and the truth of most rational people of fairy heritage. Laurel wasn’t rational.
“Damn it.” He swatted Laurel’s groping hands away from his shirt and fished his phone out of his pocket. He walked backward, continuously changing his path to keep Laurel’s mitts off of him.
The princess answered the phone in the office. “What’s wrong? They don’t have peach ice cream left? Get me a strawberry shake instead.”
“I’m still in the parking lot. Listen, I hate to ask you, but I think this certainly falls under the allowable things you can do as far as the motel goes.”
He hoped she got the gist, because he couldn’t come out and say, this shouldn’t breach the terms of your curse in front of Laurel.
“What do you need?” she asked.
“I’m being harassed by a guest.”
“Oh. Okay.” The princess hung up.
Ethan put his phone away, and Laurel came charging at him like a bull.
“I am not harassing you!” she shrieked.
He narrowly sidestepped her, and she nearly ran into a light pole. “Yes you are. I’ve told you in explicit terms that I don’t want to be with you and that I’m not your mate. I don’t want to fuck you, don’t want to be with you, and would really like for you to leave.”
“The queen will hear about this, Ethan Gotch.”
“The princess is hearing all about it right now,” Princess Simone said as she approached wearing that scowl that usually preceded people getting their asses handed to them.
But of course Laurel didn’t know that. She’d never parried with the princess, and Ethan had a sneaking suspicion that Princess Simone wasn’t going to pull her punches if they came to blows.
“You need to leave,” the princess said. “You’re disruptive and I don’t have to deal with that shit on my property. Get your things and go, or I’ll get a couple of the guys to help you pack up. Trust me, they’re not going to be careful if they have to help. They’ll put your things into a trash bag and let you know which dumpster you can dig them out of later. If you need lodging for tonight, there’s a Holiday Inn up the coast. I called them earlier, so I know for a fact they have vacancies. Discounted, even.”
“You—”
“Leave,” the princess hissed. “Perhaps my mother-in-law likes to play games, but I don’t. I’m going to say this to you clearly so you understand. Ethan is not yours. Leave him the hell alone. Perhaps you’ve convinced yourself that he belongs to you because you so badly want a piece of his family’s magic, but he’s not for you. If you bother him again, or anyone else on this premises, I will open a portal to hell to drop you into even if I need to use every last bit of my energy. If that’s not a compelling enough reason for you, then maybe I’ll give you good smack first.”
Laurel’s round, wide eyes narrowed to slits and, scoffing, she picked up her sagging jaw. “Are you challenging me?”
Ethan rolled his eyes and groaned. She’s out of her bloody mind.
“Seriously?” The princess shoved her hands into her shorts pockets and ground her teeth. If he’d had to guess, he’d say that she was trying to tamp down her bloodlust. If she let her father’s magic up to the surface, there wouldn’t be anything left of Laurel. The princess would stomp her into the ground, and then cry about what she’d done later, and then Prince Heath would be pissed at Ethan for letting shit get out of control.
“Just leave, Laurel,” he said. “In case you need a reminder of who Princess Simone’s mother is, that woman was the last person to kick Rhiannon’s ass. The princess isn’t just blowing smoke.”
Laurel looked from Ethan, to the princess, back to Ethan again before straightening her spine and lifting her chin. “This didn’t have to turn into such a ruckus, Ethan. We could have worked something out.”
“There’s nothing to work out.”
“You’ve taken another mate, haven’t you? That woman in the car? Is that what you did?”
“Whether I have or haven’t isn’t any of your concern.”
“You have! You’ve taken some oth—”
Growling, Princess Simone pinched the back of Laurel’s neck and sent her crumpling to the ground.
Ethan whistled low. “Shit.”
“Eh.” She shrugged. “I had a little of Heath’s magic leftover from the last time we merged power. Comes in handy sometimes.” She walked away, calling over her shoulder, “Go have dinner. I’ll get the girls to help me clean up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. Go eat.”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. This is my job, remember?”
He wasn’t certain if she meant as innkeeper or princess, but either way, he was appreciative.
His most pressing concern at the moment was smoothing things over with Dasha. He had no idea what she must have thought of the spectacle, but he knew one thing: she had no patience for fairy drama.
He couldn’t blame her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The carhop had just arrived with Dasha’s burger and order of fries when the rumble of a Harley engine neared and then died right behind her car.
She didn’t bother glancing at the rearview mirror. She knew who’d showed up, even without the carhop’s sharp scold of, “Sir, you can’t park there. We don’t do doubles. You’ll just have to wait.”
Ethan said nothing in response. He slipped a hand through the open passenger window of Dasha’s rental car, unlocked the door, and got in. Then he leaned forward to see the carhop through Dasha’s window and said, “Should I put my order in now, or do you wan
t to come back?”
The roller skate-wearing teenager sighed and handed Dasha her Diet Pepsi. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, I guess.” She skated away, and Dasha cut her gaze to the fairy.
When she’d driven away from the Hearth’s lot, she’d been filled with an indignant rage. She’d been in such a good mood—calm and eager, for once, to see where things with Ethan might go—and then there’d been an obstacle. That woman who’d been pawing at him in the courtyard earlier had gotten in the way, and she’d been acting like she had a claim on him. In Dasha’s limited experience with fairies, they didn’t behave like that unless they did have a claim.
And if that were the case, she could have him. Dasha wasn’t setting herself up for that kind of frustration. She was angry with herself for thinking there could be something between her and Ethan in the first place.
“Before you say anything, I didn’t want that woman touching me. Princess Simone dealt with her.”
“Huh?”
He sighed. “She’s just a pest. I told her to leave me the hell alone. Ask the princess if you don’t believe me.”
Dasha planned to. She had to admit, though, that she believed the guy. He always shot straight from the hip, and she didn’t think he’d start lying at that juncture. She couldn’t help feeling a little bit wounded, though. Low self-esteem had some serious drawbacks.
“Do you mind if I have a bite of that?” He indicated her sandwich. “I’m starving.”
Sighing, she handed the burger over and wished she’d kissed it goodbye first. He made the thing disappear in three bites.
“You had no intention of giving my sandwich back, did you?” she asked.
He pulled the French fry bag closer and shrugged. “I did, actually, but…once I had a taste, I figured you’d order another one that hadn’t been fondled by my tongue.”
She scrunched her nose. “That’s a sorry-as-hell excuse, and you know it.”
“Maybe, but you deserve better than leftovers.”
“Sweet that you think so, but leftovers are better than nothing.” She took the fry bag back and grabbed a fistful of potatoes. “If this is how you are all the time, I don’t know how your mother kept you fed.”
“She certainly grumbled a lot. By the time I came around, though, she was more or less used to the frustration. She’d lived with my dad for all those years, and he’s got a pretty…wolfish appetite.”
Dasha mimicked the sound of a rim shot and took a long pull on her soda’s straw.
“Are you bothered by that?” he asked.
“By what? You stealing my sandwich? I suspect that’s something I should have expected.”
“No. By what my father is…and what I am.”
What he is… She still wasn’t quite sure what that was. She let out a breath and fiddled with her straw. “Why would I be bothered by that any more than any other thing? I mean, I’ve been bombarded with one surprise after another ever since coming to visit Simone last year, and I think, good or bad, I’ve reached a point of numbness about mostly everything.”
“Mostly?”
She squinted at the menu board outside her window and debated between having a second go at a chili cheeseburger and trying the shrimp burger.
Ethan gave her a little nudge, and she met his searching gaze.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Ethan. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this thing. On some level, I understand that you feel responsible for me and that you don’t mean me any harm, and yet—”
“I feel a little more than responsible for you.” He snatched the fry bag back from her and jammed his hand inside. “Gods. I don’t know what I can fucking do to make that clear. They kept telling me to give you space so I didn’t scare you off, and that didn’t do me a lick of good. I wonder if I would have had more success being upfront like Prince Heath was with the princess. Maybe you would have needed a while to come around, but I believe we’d be a lot further along than we are now.”
Dasha bobbed her eyebrows and turned in her seat to face him straight on. “And where exactly would we be right now if you’d had your way?”
“We met six months ago. I think the math on that is pretty easy.”
The carhop returned with a pad and leaned in, eying Dasha’s fairy warily.
He cleared his throat, looked out his window at the menu, and rattled off, “Premium double-decker, no mustard. Giant potato wedges. Three apple turnovers. And…” He tapped his chin. “Bottle of water. I think that’s enough to start.”
“Uh-huh,” the teen said. She started away, but Dasha called out, “Um, can I get another thing?”
“Whatcha need?”
“Shrimp burger with the works.”
“Gotcha.” She skated away, still scribbling the order.
Dasha turned her attention back to Ethan. “I don’t know. I think you need to help me with that math.”
“I’ll spell it out for you, then.” He settled low in his seat and fiddled with his phone. “Just give me a moment.”
“Sure. Take your time and get your story together.” She sipped her soda and watched two carhops bearing trays piled high with food nearly collide on the pathway.
“Not a story. Just gathering proof.”
“Of what?”
“I’ve got this one saved. Took me a while to figure out where the document would be filed.”
“Where what document would be filed?”
He held his phone out and turned it sideways.
Although her eyes and brain were cooperative and Dasha was able to read the plain-English words easily enough, the significance of them came slowly. He was showing her a marriage certificate that had been filed in Dare County, North Carolina.
And her name was on one of the top lines.
She snatched the phone and clicked the link to read the submitted application information. He’d apparently logged into some sort of vital records portal.
Nadasha Denise Maurice. Parents, Randolph Maurice and Geraldine Lilly.
Ethan Jason Gotch. Parents, Ethan Gotch and Moira Saari.
The birth information for Dasha was true enough, but there was no way in hell what was listed for Ethan was accurate. He was way older than thirty-four, for one thing, and hadn’t been born in Scotland, in spite of what his passport might have said.
“What the hell is this?” she asked.
He crumbled the empty fry bag and tossed it into the food sack along with the burger wrapper. “Exactly what you think. The document is real.”
“You applied for this?”
“No. Amusingly enough, the information transmission was automatic. Look at the filing date.”
Dasha scrolled down and zoomed in. Her memory for dates had never been great—which was why she’d failed more history quizzes in college than she cared to admit—but she was pretty sure that was the day they’d met.
“The fuck?” she said.
“The same happened to the prince and princess. Perhaps marriage is outmoded tradition, but the institution certainly makes some legal transactions in this land much easier.”
“We’re married?”
“Mm-hmm. But that’s neither here or there. The only reason I showed you that is because I wanted you to see that the magic recognizes our claim on each other.”
“Now, wait just a damn—”
He pressed a finger onto her lips and sighed. “Now, how exactly should your name be pronounced? I think we’ve all been getting it wrong. I’ve wanted to ask you for months.”
She furrowed her brow and wrapped her fingers around her wrist. “My name?”
“Short a or long a?”
“Um. It’s supposed to be Nadasha with an o sound. So Dash should technically be pronounced like dosh, but…I don’t correct folks.”
“Dosh.”
“There was a birth certificate recording error. My name was supposed to be Natasha, but the clerk transcribed the information wrong. When my mother saw what happened, she decided she lik
ed the name more than the original. I abbreviate my name now just so people don’t think it’s spelled wrong.”
“Dosha.”
“Just call me Dash. I’m used to it.”
“Now that’ll always seem wrong.”
“I think you’ll get over it. Not even Simone knows. My name is actually misspelled on my driver’s license. N-a-d-o-s-h-a.”
“When’s the last time you looked at your driver’s license?”
“Not since—wait.”
She pulled her wallet out of her purse and rooted through the stack of cards for her license. She held it up in the dim light and squinted. “Nadasha D. Gotch. Huh. No wonder the airport folks always give me the scuzzy eyeball treatment when they check my I.D. My last name doesn’t match what’s on my ticket.”
“If I ever change my surname, I imagine yours would change automatically as well.”
“Not that I intend on keeping yours at all, but why would you change your surname?”
“Because Sídhe live for a very long time and governments tend to get very suspicious about citizens who never have death certificates filed.”
“Not a problem I expect to have.”
“But you will because you’re my mate. Certainly the princess has informed you that your longevity is linked to mine.”
“Um…” Dasha peeled back her upper lip.
What?
She vaguely remembered Simone saying something about that, but at the time Simone had mentioned fairies’ near-immortality, Dasha had had no good reason to commit the fact to memory. The longevity thing did seem like a nice perk of being drafted into fairy matrimony, but she still wasn’t so geeked about having a relationship thrust onto her that she wasn’t ready for.
She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with him. And am I supposed to tell my parents I married a guy that I don’t have any recollection of marrying?
The carhop returned with their food and Ethan handed her a couple of twenties. “I’ll need you to come back for a takeaway order.”
“Yep.” The teen skated away.
Dasha dug right into her sandwich before Ethan decided he liked the looks of it more than the mound of meat he’d ordered. With her mouth being full of succulent fried seafood, she couldn’t immediately respond when he said, “You moving in with me makes sense.”
