Charming Marjani

by Rebecca Rivard

  His cheek creased in a smile—and fear wrapped icy fingers around her lungs.

  She jerked her gaze back to her sandwich, her stomach tight, heart thudding in her ears.

  Fuck, she hated this. A couple of years ago, she might have smiled back, seen where this led. But not anymore. No one touched her. She didn’t even let members of the clan get too close.

  A shadow fell across the table.

  She snarled, her cougar rising to meet the threat. She forced it down. Shifting in the middle of a human pub could be fatal. The fada and humans had treaties about those things. A fada shifting in a pub for no reason would be automatically targeted by the authorities as feral.

  She could be shot on sight—or slapped into a cage.

  And she’d have to admit Adric was right after all—she was too broken, too close to going feral, to be out on her own.

  The tall blond smiled down at her. Spoke.

  Still fighting the cougar, she had to concentrate to make sense of his words.

  “I said, mind if I join you?” A surprisingly deep voice, gravel wrapped in silk.

  She gave a shake of her head. “Yes.”

  He lifted a single dark brow. “No, you don’t mind, or yes, you do?”

  “Yeah, I mind. I don’t want company.”

  His gaze went to the slight lump her quartz made beneath her sweater. “Your accent is American, which means you’re from one of two clans.”

  Fine hairs rose all over her body. He was correct; the only earth fada clans in North America were her own clan in Baltimore and the Navajo clan in Arizona.

  But how the hell had he made her as an earth fada so fast?

  Her nostrils flared, subtly testing the air. Human—he smelled of salt and iron—but with a trace of silver. The man had fae blood, although it might be so faint he didn’t know it himself. Overlaying it was a pleasant grassy scent, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors.

  Her cat liked his smell, but the human part of her didn’t like that hint of fae. Not on top of the fact that he knew a little too much about earth fada.

  Easing the switchblade from her pocket, she released the catch.

  “You don’t want to use that.” He set his plate and glass on her table and took the chair across from her.

  “No?”

  He leaned back in his chair and rested an arm on the back as if she were an old friend instead of a pissed-off shifter with a sharp blade aimed at his privates. “Too messy. I’m guessing you don’t want to draw attention.”

  “How did you know I’m an earth fada?” she asked, soft and dangerous. “Did Corban send you?”

  “Who?” His surprise seemed genuine—and besides, her cousin would never ally himself with a human.

  She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “Don’t worry.” His voice dropped as well. “No one else in here noticed—or if they did, they didn’t care. Icelanders are used to magical creatures.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

  “What was the question?”

  Her breath hissed between her teeth. The man was maddening. “How,” she repeated, “did you know what I am?”

  He grinned, a flash of white against tanned skin. “It’s your walk.”

  “My walk?”

  “You didn’t walk in here, you flowed—like a dancer…or a cat. Every earth fada I’ve ever met walks like that.”

  She made a mental note to clomp out of the pub like a freaking Clydesdale horse. “And that interests you—why?”

  Another shrug. “It doesn’t. I just liked the look of you. If you want me to leave, I will.”

  She relaxed fractionally. He was right, she didn’t want to draw attention. And his scent had the pureness of truth. He didn’t mean her harm.

  In fact, all she scented was…interest, of the sexual kind. Was he flirting with her?

  She scowled, sick of being on edge all the time. Hating that she couldn’t have a simple conversation with a stranger without going into fight-or-flight mode. Yeah, she was jumpy because of Corban, but this wasn’t just about her cousin.

  This was about her.

  The blond arched a brow. “Well? Would you like some company?”

  She reminded herself that she wanted to blend in and slid the blade back into her pocket. “Sure. Why not?”

  He smiled and extended his hand. “Fane.”

  “Jani.” Shaking his hand, she gave him part of her name.

  “Jani,” he repeated it in that gravelly voice. “I like it. So what brings you to Iceland?”

  “I’ve always wanted to see the Northern Lights.” That was the truth…just not the whole truth.

  He sipped his beer. “Not much chance of that in July. The peak time is November to February, although I’ve seen them as early as September first. They’re a sight worth seeing.”

  “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

  “Maybe you will.” His mouth curved, and for a second, the air was charged with something that made her blink—and then hunch her shoulders. He saw that and continued, “So you’re heading north? You have to rent a 4x4 to get up there, though—or take a flight.”

  “Mm.” She ate another bite of her sandwich.

  The ice fae court was in the north, near the wild Strandir coast, but Corban had told Adric to meet him here in Reykjavik.

  But was Corban actually in the city? What if he was at the ice fae court—or even holed up somewhere else in the country? Iceland was an island the size of Virginia.

  Topaz blue eyes regarded her, clear as the sky on a cloudless day. “I’m driving north tomorrow. Want a ride?”

  She drew a slow breath. He was being too helpful. Her hand went to her switchblade again.

  “Look. I don’t know you. If you want to share a table, fine. But why I’m here and how I get around is none of your fucking business.”

  “You're right.”

  Those clear blue eyes seemed to see straight into her soul, to understand what she wasn’t saying: Why she was so wary of strangers, even though she was a cougar and a trained soldier. Why a knot of rage had lodged in her chest, so big and black and tight it threatened to choke her.

  What he couldn’t know was why she was in Iceland—and what she planned to do when she found her cousin.

  2

  Sometimes Fane hated himself.

  He’d recognized the young earth fada immediately. Hell, he’d just seen her a couple of weeks ago at his daughter’s mate-bond ritual.

  Evie had mated with a Baltimore fada named Jace, and Marjani Savonett had attended with her alpha brother. But Fane had used his Gift to blend into the crowd, so no one but Evie and Jace had known he was present.

  His focus had been on Evie, his heart full. How had this daughter he barely knew grown up so strong and smart and pretty?

  But he’d spared a glance or two for the slim, dark-eyed shifter.

  He’d followed Marjani from the minute she’d arrived in Iceland.

  His orders had come from the ice fae king himself, a terse message scrawled on magical paper that dissolved as Fane read it: An earth fada female will arrive today from Baltimore. Watch her, and inform me of her movements.

  No name, but as he’d told Marjani, it was easy to pick an earth fada out of a crowd.

  Sindre had not suggested Fane meet Marjani. In fact, the king would be displeased to find his envoy had taken his own initiative. And Fane had had enough of Sindre’s displeasure to last a lifetime.

  But he hadn’t been able to resist approaching the sexy little earth fada. Something about her drew him, despite the fact she was almost feral, her cougar close to the surface.

  Her shaved head showed off her fine features and catlike eyes. Her skin was a smooth honey-brown—Evie had mentioned that the Savonetts' mom had been from Jamaica—and her lean body vibrated with suppressed energy.

  His mind filled with erotic pictures. Marjani beneath him, or maybe astride so he could run his hands over that smooth, beautiful skin…absor
b her warmth…take some of that vital energy into himself. Kiss those lush lips that seemed made for a man’s mouth.

  He saw her hand slide beneath the table, heard the quiet snick as she released the blade. So she had a weapon—probably more than one.

  He almost grinned. He was a wayfarer. She might have a shifter’s fast reflexes, but he’d bet he was quicker.

  When he promised that he meant her no harm, it was the truth. He was a quarter fae, enough that he couldn’t lie without making himself miserably ill. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t carry news of her to someone who did mean her harm.

  Sometimes Fane hated himself.

  He gave her a crooked smile and set about coaxing information from her.

  “Jani.” He repeated her name, rolling it on his tongue. The short, sassy nickname suited her. “I like it. So what brings you to Iceland?” He expected evasion, and he wasn’t disappointed.

  “I’ve always wanted to see the Northern Lights.”

  Summer was the wrong time of year for viewing them, which she had to know. But he played along. “Not much chance of that in July. The peak time is November to February, although I’ve seen them as early as September first. They’re a sight worth seeing.”

  “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

  “Maybe you will.” His mouth edged up. Was she flirting with him? But no, she fastened her gaze on her sandwich and took a bite without looking at him.

  “So you’re heading north?” he asked, but she didn’t take the bait. Then he took a chance and offered her a ride in his SUV.

  He realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth.

  “Look.” She settled back in her chair, mirroring him, but with her muscles tight, battle ready. “I don’t know you. If you want to share a table with me, fine. But why I’m here and how I get around is none of your fucking business.”

  “You’re right. I’m just making conversation.”

  When she scowled, he waved an encouraging hand at her. “Now suppose you ask why I’m here. It’s called small talk—give it a try.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. “Because you live here?”

  “Me? No. I visit from time to time, that’s all. I love the hot springs. Did you stop at the Blue Lagoon on your way in from the airport?”

  “No.” She sipped her ale. “Maybe when I leave.”

  “You have to try the hot springs while you’re here. Best part of visiting Iceland.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  He took a bite of fish. “Iceland has the best fish and chips. Even better than the UK.”

  “I’ll have to try them.”

  The conversation continued in that same impersonal vein. They finished dinner without him learning much more than he already knew.

  But he was pretty sure Marjani wasn’t here for Sindre. No, she had another reason.

  And he’d bet a handful of diamonds it had something to do with the wolf fada currently being held at the ice fae court in an iron cage.

  Marjani paid for her meal and stood up. She jerked her chin at the ladies’ room. “Excuse me.”

  Her walk was free and easy, and he got distracted by her round ass as she headed toward the bathrooms at the back of the pub. But something about the set of her shoulders made him throw some bills on the table and slip out the front door.

  He strolled around the back and leaned against a building a few doors down so she wouldn’t scent him. A minute later, she came out the back door.

  His mouth stretched in a grin. Got you.

  He had the fae Gift of wayfaring, with two abilities: he could move fast as a striking snake, and he could blend into his surroundings. If he didn’t want you to see him, you didn’t.

  Marjani hitched up her backpack and strode down the alley in his direction. He activated the charm that Sindre had crafted to disguise his scent and stilled, becoming just another shadow against the concrete wall.

  Her nose twitched as she passed him. He tensed and held his breath, afraid her shifter senses would pick up the sound.

  She glanced around and then continued walking.

  He waited until she rounded the corner before heading after her.

  3

  This far north, the summer sun set late. Marjani did a circuit of the blocks around the pub, but there was still no sign of Corban. By then, it was after eleven and she was dead-tired. With a yawn, she headed back to the hostel.

  She slept lightly, waking twice when nightmares insinuated their chilly tendrils into her dreams. She was used to that. She stared at the ceiling, listening to the quiet sounds of the sleeping humans around her through the hostel’s thin walls. Waiting for morning.

  Breakfast was croissants and yogurt. She washed it down with a cup of coffee and set out to find her cousin.

  It was a shame she wasn’t really a tourist, because she would’ve enjoyed exploring the small, quirky city. She loved that the stolid concrete buildings were painted in crayon-box colors—red, green, blue, yellow. Even some of the corrugated steel roofs were brightly colored, and the streets were dotted with sculptures and murals. She passed tiny boutiques, funky coffee shops, and cafés that just invited you to come in and sit for a while.

  But she didn’t catch even a whiff of her cousin.

  And yet, the back of her neck itched. She could’ve sworn someone was following her.

  She leaned against the wall of a combination bookstore/record store and looked casually around her. All she saw were locals going about their business. She rubbed her nape and told herself not to be so edgy.

  Lunchtime came and went. When her growling stomach became impossible to ignore, she bought bread and cheese and sat on a bench in the Old Harbor to eat. The ocean was a deep, still blue with small boats bustling to and fro. Across the harbor, she could see Mount Esja, its snow-capped flanks covered in plush green moss.

  She’d covered most of the center city. Could Corban be in one of the suburbs that spread out to the east and south? If so, she might spend days looking for him.

  She was a strategist, a Gift common in cats. Her strat talent had been humming along in the background, fitting facts together along with a heavy dose of intuition—and now she just knew.

  Corban wasn’t in Reykjavik.

  She knew her cousin, knew how he thought. After the death of their parents, she and Adric had been taken in by their uncle Leron, Corban’s father. It hadn’t been a kindness. The man had been one mean SOB.

  No one had mourned when Adric had stuck a knife in Leron Savonett one dark night.

  His three sons had taken the worst of his abuse, with the eldest, Corban, coming in for more than his share. At times, the five of them had formed an alliance against Leron, covering for each other, helping each other with chores.

  But Corban had enjoyed exerting power over his younger cousins. It was as if he had to prove he wasn’t the weakling his father said he was.

  Adric had protected Marjani as much as he could, but survival had meant predicting what Corban would do next. She could write a whole book on her eldest cousin—his moods, his likes and dislikes, when to approach him and when to stay far, far away…

  If Corban was in Reykjavik, she’d know it. Maybe he wouldn’t approach her straight on—more likely, he’d jump her in a dark alley—but he would approach her. If nothing else, he’d want to know why Marjani had come and not Adric.

  Just before sunset, a chilly rain began to fall. Cold and hungry, she pulled up the hood of her jacket. The rain seemed to find its way between the cracks. She walked down to the Elliðaá River, found a quiet corner to shift to her cougar, and caught herself a fat salmon for dinner.

  Corban had to be at the ice fae court. She and Adric had suspected for a while now that he was working with the fae—the night fae, for sure, and possibly the ice fae as well. Adric had managed to get the ice fae court’s coordinates, just as he had the coordinates of most of the other fae courts and fada clans around the world. Her brother was scary-good at things like that.


  That night, she got another few hours of sleep before checking out of the hostel. Her only luggage was her backpack. It was a simple matter to shower and shrug on the pack. By four a.m., she was on a bus to the outskirts of Reykjavik.

  At the last stop, she got out to walk until she reached a deserted stretch of road. The rain had stopped, but above, more heavy gray clouds had moved in.

  She set her backpack on the side of the road and stilled, her nape itching again.

  Hell.

  She raised a hand to the back of her neck and cast a suspicious look around. Her cat relied more on sight than smell, but she inhaled deeply as well. Nothing stirred in the scrubby tundra except for a few intrepid rats.

  That didn’t mean no one was out there. Iceland was a land of magical creatures, its sparse human population meaning the supernatural world had settled here in large numbers. The ice fae were at the top of the food chain, but the island was also home to goblins and elves.

  Skin crawling, she shoved her clothes and shoes into her backpack, cinched the pack around her shoulders and waist with special straps designed to stretch with her, and shifted to her cougar.

  Her quartz heated, lending its energy. Colorful sparks of gold, silver and blue danced over her skin. Warmth filled her chest, spreading throughout her body, and then she disappeared, for a time neither woman nor cougar, until the change was complete.

  Her cougar snarled and scraped its claws in the hard-packed earth next to the pavement, pissed off at being forced to remain a human for most of the last twenty-four hours.

  The cat was increasingly bold. Demanding.

  Adric feared she was going feral. She’d overheard him discussing it with Suha, Marjani’s best friend and the clan’s head healer.

  They all knew what that meant—as alpha, Adric would have to kill her. You couldn’t have a cougar with a human’s cunning and an animal’s bloodlust roaming around Baltimore.

  Just let me do this one last job. For Adric and the clan.

  At least if she died, she’d go out with honor.