Warrior Fae Princess

by Breene, K. F.

  Devon’s vision went red, and before he knew what happened, he’d stepped forward and smashed his fist into the filthy man’s face. Walt went down like a sack of rocks, hitting the floor, bouncing, and staying there.

  “Thank God someone did it,” Steve said. “I was having a hard time keeping my mouth shut.”

  Charity stared down at her dad, her back stiff. A tear slid down her cheek.

  Devon’s heart broke for her. “Don’t listen to him,” he said softly, this time allowing himself to rub her back. “He was drunk. Drunk and mean. He didn’t really mean those things.”

  “Did you hear what he said?” She blinked her eyes to clear them, sending a few more tears gliding down her cheeks.

  “He probably won’t remember—”

  “He doesn’t think I’m his.”

  “She’s smiling,” Rod murmured behind them.

  “Wouldn’t you be with a dad like that?” Andy replied.

  “That’s a sign of danger in these fraught situations, though, right? I don’t want to get blasted. It looks like it hurts.”

  “Good call.”

  The sound of shuffling meant everyone was scooting back. Everyone except Devon.

  “He thinks I’m someone else’s!” She laughed and threw her arms around Devon. “God, I hope he’s right.”

  Devon squeezed her tight, reviewing what Walt had said. One thing stuck out like a sore thumb.

  Roger hadn’t sent someone out here a couple of weeks ago. Not even a couple of months ago. He’d tried when they’d first found Charity and elected to wait to try again until she could go herself.

  So if it wasn’t Roger, who was checking up on Charity’s past?

  Chapter Three

  Charity shuddered out a breath as she stepped over Walt’s foot. She couldn’t properly express the hope that this disgusting sack of crap wasn’t her flesh and blood. She guessed that was probably sad to say, but there was no use denying it.

  “Why wouldn’t my mom say anything, though?” she wondered aloud, pausing in the living room to look over the crushed cans and empty whiskey bottles littering the floor. Papers and magazines were strewn across the coffee table and couch. Upon closer inspection, none of them had been sent to this address. “When he was yelling and cursing and we were hiding in the bedroom, or when we escaped for the day to the park, or just when I got older—why didn’t she ever mention he wasn’t my real dad?”

  “Maybe she thought you wouldn’t take the news well.” Devon stepped in with her before making a gesture to the others. He wanted them to stay outside.

  A part of Charity relaxed a little. She wasn’t ashamed of her upbringing, but she’d moved past it. With the encouragement of Devon and the pack, she’d blossomed into someone else. To share the horrors of her past now, when she was trying to move forward, would scratch the surface of embarrassment. The only reason she was allowing Devon inside was because he needed to see where her scars had come from.

  Not that she’d be able to chase him away. His alpha protectiveness was in overdrive right now. She could tell he wanted to rip her out of this place.

  She smiled a little to herself. It felt good to be protected by someone bigger and badder than she was. Not many could fill his shoes.

  “The smells in here are…” Devon crinkled his nose.

  “What?” she asked, stopping at the entrance to the kitchen. Her heart sank. The faded yellow countertops had felt like her portal into high-dollar kitchens, where culinary magic was just around the corner. Now, they were covered in empty food containers, wrappers, and crumbs. The trash can in the corner was spilling over. Her shoe stuck to the floor, something yellow having been spilled and not cleaned up. More stains covered the faded linoleum at the bottom of the fridge, where a smear of crusty red interrupted the white. “That looks like blood.”

  “I smell blood, though not much. Urine, something rotting, mold—this place is a petri dish for gross.” His hand curved to the swell of her hip. “Are you okay?”

  “This was my favorite space. It’s where I taught myself how to cook. He never came in here after he started on the whiskey.” She took a deep breath and turned away. “I didn’t think it would be this hard to see.”

  Silently, she moved to the two bedrooms at the back of the house. If her mother had wanted to hide anything from her, she would have hidden it in the bedroom she’d shared with Walt. Lord knew there wasn’t anywhere else in the tiny house.

  Memories accosted her when she stepped inside. Of her mother in the bathroom, doing up her hair. Of the nights she’d snuggled in here with her mother, knowing Walt was passed out on the couch.

  Of the day she’d found her mother’s goodbye note.

  “I asked her once why she’d married Walt—she hated when I didn’t call him Dad. She laughed and made an off-handed remark about fortune-tellers and their crystal balls.”

  Charity’s gut pinched, that comment suddenly having a lot more weight than it used to. It hit very close to home, given Charity had received a reading herself not that long ago.

  She shook it off. Her mother viewed tarot card readings and fortune-tellers as a means of distraction—as entertainment. If it was anything more, she would’ve talked about magic through the years, a topic that never came up.

  “She said Walt didn’t always used to be like this. That the alcohol took over and changed him. So I asked why she stayed. I’ll never forget the look on her face. It was the look of a broken woman. A woman beaten down by life. She just shook her head and turned away. I didn’t understand it at the time—I still don’t, truth be told, but it was clear that some things were just beyond her. She’d hit a wall in life, and she couldn’t figure out how to scale it. I never asked again. Then, a year later, she was gone. It’s that look that still haunts me. It’s why I finally forgave her.”

  Emotion rose, unbidden. She bowed where she stood and turned, knowing Devon would be coming up behind her, thankful for it when he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her close. Sobs racked her body, the pain so fresh it felt like yesterday.

  She’d never wanted to come back. Not really. She’d put on a brave face, and even told herself it would be good to see her roots again—a final farewell—but it felt so different now that she was actually here. The horror was sucking her under. The pain was slicing her up a second time.

  “Look what you’ve tied yourself to,” she couldn’t help but say. “Look what I am. Unwanted. I’m the girl everyone walks away from.”

  Devon turned her to face him and raised her chin. She looked up into his beautiful brown eyes, dancing with green and gold specks. “There is nothing wrong with you, Charity. Nothing. Do you hear me? You didn’t let any of this bring you down. Any of it. You’re a fighter. You’re a survivor. I aspire to be like you. If the others couldn’t see that, then it’s on them, not you.”

  She dropped her forehead to his chest, hot tears running down her face.

  “If it makes you feel better,” he said, rocking her gently, “my mother banned me from my house. I didn’t leave—I was forced out. I’m an orphan with living parents, just like you. Except, unlike you, it turned me into an asshole. A guy no one could get close to. Then you came along. You make me palatable.”

  Laughter bubbled up with the pain. She took another deep breath. “I hate this.”

  “I know.”

  “I was doing fine, happily ignoring all of this. I finally had my life together.”

  “And then you met me. See? I’m the real asshole here, not you.”

  “I love you.”

  He tipped her face up again and settled his lips onto hers. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, her body wound up. Heat pounded in her core. She wanted to escape into his embrace. To run from this, if only for a moment, and lose herself in the feel of his body.

  “I’ve never had sex in my room,” she said against his mouth, feeling down his hard chest. “It seems like a shame.”

  He groaned, and his arms jerked ti
ghter. He tilted his head so his forehead rested against hers. “I’d love to take you right now, Charity, but your…Walt is knocked out in the front room, there’s a gun in the front yard, and we’re dealing with a few impatient shifters who don’t respect me and the ticking time bomb that is your magic. If there was ever a terrible time, this is that time. But I promise, as soon as it’s safe, I’ll give you the ride of your life.”

  She smiled against his lips and took a moment to just hang on for dear life, feeling grounded in the storm. “Party pooper,” she whispered.

  “It is killing me to be a party pooper, I assure you. I’m hard enough to cut glass. But being an alpha sometimes means saying no, apparently. Who knew?”

  She sighed, returning to the moment. “Let’s get this done and get out before the man that is hopefully not my father wakes up.”

  “If he isn’t, who is? Roger and Vlad think you come from a royalty line of warrior fae, but they haven’t come out of the Flush in…generations. Whoever it was must’ve had ties to them, except…who could that have been? Don’t you wonder—”

  “No,” she said, searching the drawers. Her mother’s clothes were still gone—no surprise there. “I haven’t wondered about it yet, no. For two reasons. One, this is the first time Walt has ever implied I’m a bastard. He’s yelled every name under the sun at me, but if he had been armed with this ammo, he would’ve said something before now. Believe me. Even if my mom didn’t, he would’ve.” She crossed to the closet.

  “And the second?”

  She paused in pushing Walt’s faded and ratty clothes out of the way. As she contemplated the answer, she fought the tears. She fought the pain. “If Walt isn’t my father, then my father had no problem letting me be raised by that incredible asshole in this hellhole. I need to celebrate the possible win before I fall into the loss.”

  Sadness flickered across Devon’s features. Charity felt that same sorrow permeate every fiber of her being. One parent who’d left her was bad enough, but add in a second?

  The lid on her emotions wobbled. Tears filled her eyes again.

  She pushed them away. She had a job to do here, and Roger was counting on her. She needed to see this through and get the hell out of here. When she was out of this cesspit and wasn’t fighting for her life, she could slide into the pain and the rejection. But if she did so now, she risked falling into the strong undertow of magic that was constantly pulling at her. She couldn’t afford to black out or go on a killing spree right now.

  “If Walt is not blood related, that will have to be good enough for me,” she said, checking all the corners and cracks in the closet. As expected, she came up dry.

  Devon didn’t say anything as she passed in front of him, and she was glad for it.

  Her old room was as she’d left it. The twin bed was made, the desktop was bare, and the rickety dresser drawers were empty, as was the closet. She’d taken everything worth having, and had thrown the rest away.

  “At least that dick hasn’t been loitering in my room. That’s something,” she said. Her space was still her own, even now. Her corner of the world remained untouched. A small weight lifted from her shoulders.

  “The smell in here…” Devon’s nose wrinkled near the bed. His brow creased next to the curtains. “It’s…” He shook his head. “It’s too faint to be certain, but…” His voice drifted away. She didn’t have to be told what he was thinking.

  “The person who visited Walt…” Charity hadn’t missed that little nugget. No doubt the secret visitor was the one who’d convinced him that she wasn’t his child. She had been large for a preemie—nearly eight pounds. It was why she hadn’t ended up in the NICU. Or so her mother had always said.

  Who would have come here uninvited to look into her heritage?

  “Vlad. It was Vlad, wasn’t it?”

  His name tasted spicy-sweet on her tongue, which was strange, given the distaste she felt for her would-be kidnapper. But then, vampires were hunters of humans—they wielded seduction as a weapon.

  Devon didn’t comment. He didn’t have to.

  “What’s he been doing for the last couple weeks, I wonder, besides mucking around in my life?” She took a deep, calming breath to still the sudden flush of anger.

  Don’t lose your shit, Charity. Gotta stay calm. Keep the magic locked inside.

  Her heart sped up as she stepped into her closet. If her mother had snuck in to leave her a message, she would have hidden it in here, in their special hiding place. Those who didn’t know about the little hideaway would never find it.

  Charity had checked it often throughout her childhood, finding little notes or silly drawings, and just as often after her mom had left.

  It had always been empty, then.

  She felt above the dusty shelf and reached into the bottom right corner. Her finger traced the little grove and she pushed the flap open. A small package waited inside, wrapped with care. Charity should know—she was the one who had wrapped it.

  Tears filled her eyes as a hollow feeling carved out her heart.

  She tried to focus on the job at hand. She tried to remind herself that she could fall to pieces later. She tried, but the weight of her suffering dragged down her head. Tears tracked down her face. The fight went out of her.

  “What is it?” Devon asked.

  Charity shrugged, pocketing the package. “Just some pictures. Of me. When I was a baby. And some other stuff I thought she might want. It was hers. She stashed it in there for safekeeping. In her note, she told me she was leaving it for me. I just thought…” A sob lodged in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. “I’d hoped she’d come back. I’d ho-hoped she’d miss me, and come back.” She shrugged, overwhelmed by feelings of inadequacy. “I thought maybe she’d check the little cubby to see if I’d left her my address. I knew she wouldn’t want to stay here with Walt, but I thought ma-maybe she would check in on me.”

  Devon was there in an instant, wrapping her in his arms.

  “Why would a mother leave her only daughter?” she begged, her hands limp at her sides, wanting the earth to open up and swallow her whole. The agony pulled at her, dragging her down. “What d-did I do so wrong that she wouldn’t want to take me with her? That she would leave me in this hellhole—”

  “Shhh,” Devon cooed, rocking her back and forth. “It wasn’t you, Charity, please.” His words were filled with pain and rage. “It wasn’t you. She wasn’t strong enough for this life, and she knew you were. She was probably so broken by the end, like you said, that she couldn’t feel at all. Please.”

  It was the pain in that please that snapped all her focus to him. That reeled her in from the pit of raw pain. Because while everyone else might’ve left, he never had. Even when he hadn’t thought much of her, he’d walked into battle right at her side. He’d laid down his life, multiple times, to protect her. Hell, right now he was enduring all this for her.

  She’d had crappy luck with people throughout her life, but it had all been worth it to find him.

  Without warning, they were tearing at each other’s clothes. She grabbed his basketball-style sweats, easy to rip off if he needed to shift, and yanked. Buttons broke free and the fabric came away. He already had her jeans over her hips, reaching between her thighs and kneading her just right. She moaned against his lips, wrapping her fingers around his velvety shaft, desperate to have him inside of her.

  “Alpha,” Steve yelled down the hall.

  Charity barely heard him as Devon pushed aside the crotch of her panties and stroked his fingers up her slit.

  “Alpha, we got company, and it ain’t human.”

  Devon shoved forward, trapping Charity against the wall, his kisses wild and desperate. His fingers worked inside her before he stepped back and ripped her around. She braced her palms against the wall and bent, giving him access.

  “I want you so bad,” she said, her sex swollen and her body on fire. “Devon, please.”

  “Devon, you back there?” Urgen
cy crept into Steve’s voice.

  Devon’s hand tightened on Charity’s shoulder as he held her put. The tip of his cock parted her folds before he paused, breathing heavily.

  “Fuck!” he yelled as he stepped back, misery and regret ringing through that one word. The next moment, his fist went through the wall. He pulled back and punched it again before slamming his palm against it a couple of times.

  “We can’t do this now, Charity,” he said in a strangled voice. “I love you more than words can say. I will always do what’s best for you. But damn it, as much as I want to, I cannot fuck you right now.”

  Another wave of heat ripped through her core, and she moaned, still braced against the wall. It took all of her effort not to say the thing she knew would break his resolve: Please, Devon, please fuck me.

  “Boss, you all right?” Steve called. “We got a lower-level demon ambling up the street. We need some direction out here. This old drunk dude is waking up, too. Not sure what you want to do with him. I’d be happy to pull his arms off, if you want.”

  “Tell them to hold. And leave Walt for now. I’ll be right there,” Devon yelled, sweat beading on his forehead and his chest heaving. He bent and grabbed up his sweats, his eyes snagging on her nudity. “Being an alpha has never been as hard as it is at this moment,” he murmured, turning away.

  It was that comment that dragged her out of the fog. That comment that grounded her.

  She smiled through the pain of her mother’s abandonment, running a finger over the package in her pocket. She’d gotten through this once, and she’d get through it again. This time, though, she had a man by her side who was every bit as strong as she was.

  “We can handle a demon in our sleep,” she said, pulling up her pants as Devon secured the buttons on his sweats.

  “Each of the three new wol—shifters could, too. This is going to be a play for authority.” He gritted his teeth and glanced around the room. “We should head out. How much longer do you need?”