by May Dawson
When I clambered up next to him, he watched me appraisingly. There was nothing friendly in the way he narrowed his eyes, studying me with intensity that sent a prickle down my spine. But now I was close enough to get a good look at his face.
He was unreasonably handsome. His cheekbones were high, his cheeks hollow beneath them. His eyes were an eerie light blue, lushly lashed, in contrast with the black hair that fell to his shoulders. His skin was almost unnaturally perfect, as if he was airbrushed, and intricate tattoos that must spread across that powerful chest peeked from the torn collar of his shirt. Either that shirt was a fashion statement, or the vamp had tried to put up a fight.
“I don’t know you.” And I would remember him, if I’d met him in the last five years.
He cocked his head to one side, studying me. “You don’t remember anything, do you? Not your childhood, not your home, not your misspent youth.”
“Was my youth misspent?” I rubbed my hand across my head, which was beginning to pound. “I’ve been trying to misspend my twenties. Good to know I’ve got some practice.”
He looked me over just as curiously as I was looking at him. “At first, this Hunting business made me assume you were trying to help the humans as penance for your sins. But I suppose you would find your way into any career field that involved death and destruction.”
“You’ve been following me?” I demanded.
I should probably just kill him now. But he didn’t give me that creepy vibe up the back of my neck; I felt safe enough with him. Just… irritated.
And I also felt a flutter of nerves, an odd reeling in my stomach and a flush of desire that heated my skin. I bit my lip. I spent a lot of time around good-looking, well-built Hunters and I never felt these stirrings. This man was too damned pretty.
His brows rose as if that were ridiculous. “No. I’ve been trying to track you. You’ve been missing for a long time.”
I couldn’t stop staring at him, and I wanted to know what the hell he was talking about, both of which made me feel hot and self-conscious. I forced myself to meet that mocking gaze. “Last chance before I get bored and wander off. Who the hell are you?”
“You’re not going to just wander off.” He crossed his arms over that broad chest, still holding my gaze. I tried not to notice the way the movement pulled what was left of his shirt lower, revealing the dark lines of hounds and runes tattooed across his chiseled pecs. A perfectly shaped brown nipple winked at me before it was covered by his thick bicep, not that I was looking. “You’ve never had any control over your curiosity.”
God, what a twit. He wanted me to think he knew something I didn’t. My desire to uncover my past was a vulnerability, and I wasn’t about to let some random jerk—no matter how beautiful—control me.
I cocked my head, staring at him. “Are you a vampire?”
“No…” He frowned impatiently.
I could tell he was about to say something else, so I beat him to the punch. “Shifter?”
He was so big, I could peg him as a shifter easily.
“No,” he scoffed.
“Witch?” I asked brightly.
“No.”
“Evil?” That was the part that mattered most. I never hurt anyone who didn’t hurt someone else first.
His brows arched over those icy eyes. “No.”
Must be a Hunter then, to have caught my stray vamp as soon as he broke away. He was an unusually reckless, confident, sexy man, even by Hunter standards. But he was just another human.
“Then I don’t give a damn about you,” I told him, heading toward the far edge of the roof. “You’re cute, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Mysterious, but you seem like trouble, and I find enough of that on my own.”
His lips parted, and he seemed to stumble over what to say to that. Since it was always nice to leave a man speechless, it was the perfect time for me to walk away.
“You need answers, Alisa,” he called after me. “I can give you answers.”
I started to run, picking up speed. I jumped nimbly onto the ledge of the building and my momentum powered my leap to the next rooftop. I landed cleanly, on my feet, my knees buckling for just a second before I caught myself.
I whirled, taking a step back. He stood there watching me, his light eyes eerie at this distance. I almost faltered, sure he wasn’t human, that he was my business after all.
But he wanted something from me, and there was nothing I wanted to give to anyone but my Hunter friends.
I spread my arms out in an exaggerated shrug. “Meh.”
Then I turned and sashayed off toward the next rooftop, leaving Duncan-the-gorgeous-weirdo behind.
Chapter Two
Azrael
“She was drunk?” I asked skeptically, staring at my best friend in the dim light of the bar where we’d taken shelter.
The Alisa I knew didn’t get drunk, not even during solstice.
“Tell me the part again where she said you’re cute.” Tiron took a long sip from his Scotch, but even with his face partially concealed by the crystal glass, his eyes danced with mischief.
There were some benefits to being in the human world. Not many, but whiskey in all its various and glorious forms was one.
Duncan snorted at him. “Focusing on the important details, as usual.”
“Where did she go?”
“She ran away, like she always does.” Duncan sounded dismissive, and I frowned at him.
“You didn’t lose her?”
“Of course I didn’t lose her,” Duncan said. “The hounds and I tracked her back to her pathetic house. It’s not even a house. A segment of a house.”
He shifted, his hand concealed under the table, and I knew he was reaching to pat one of his hounds. The two hulking creatures hid under the table, not that it mattered; they were invisible to humans, and the barkeep was our servant now anyway.
“The word you’re looking for is apartment,” Tiron supplied helpfully. “You spend enough time in the human world. Are you really too obstinate to learn their culture?”
“Can you call it culture, though?” Duncan asked. “Does pigs wallowing in filth a culture make?”
He was in a fine mood today, even by Duncan’s standards.
“Do you think she truly lost her memories?” I asked.
Duncan nodded. “She didn’t recognize me. She was genuinely curious who I am. What I am.”
“She wouldn’t have said you were cute if she recognized you,” Tiron observed.
“I am cute, though,” Duncan muttered. Then he admitted, “If she’d recognized me, she would have run.”
That was wishful thinking on his part. If Alisa had recognized him, she might have put a blade through his gut.
“How’d she survive all these years without any clue who she is or what she can do?” I wondered out loud.
“Princess Alisa is quite good at surviving,” Duncan said dryly. “Even though her presence reduces everyone else’s odds.”
He might hate her more than I did. She simply betrayed me and my court. For Duncan, she betrayed his brother. That was a far more serious crime.
“Do you think she might come with us willingly?” I asked. “Once she understands who she is?”
“No.” Duncan’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. If I didn’t know the man beneath the angry mask, that face would terrify even me a little. “I think we’ll have to take her back.”
Tiron tilted his head to one side, studying Duncan. “Why don’t you let me go and talk to her? It would be nice if we didn’t have to thump the princess over the head and drag her back home unwillingly.”
“Would it?” Duncan questioned. “I think the thumping and the dragging sounds nicer. For us.”
“Thank you, Tiron,” I told the younger man. “But I’ll go. She and I have history. Faer wants to know if she has any memories or if the reports are true. She won’t be able to fake it with me.”
“I need to see for myself,” I added to Duncan. I didn’t want him to thin
k I didn’t trust his judgment.
Tiron nodded. Far from seeming offended, Duncan’s dangerous grin widened. Whether he thought an encounter between Alisa and me would punish me or punish her, I had no idea, but Duncan had a sadistic streak.
“Let’s go to this apartment,” I suggested.
“That’s not a good idea,” Tiron said. “You’ll scare her.”
Duncan snorted. “Proof you do not know Alisa.”
“She might try to kill you,” Tiron amended.
“Oh yes,” I said. “But she has tried that many times before. I don’t mind.”
My heart quickened at the thought of being face-to-face with my queen, my former fiancé, my betrayer.
But I knew my outward appearance gave no indication of my reaction. I took another long, slow sip, finishing off my whiskey. Duncan still side-eyed me; he was a male of few words who still managed to get his judgments across.
Duncan knew me well enough to know my heart always raced when it came to Alisa—with love, or hate, or a dangerous combination of both.
“This is a bad idea,” Tiron said lightly.
“You always say that,” Duncan reminded him, rising from his seat. “And you’re always outvoted.”
“And we always end up in trouble,” Tiron shot back. “Maybe you should listen.”
“In the end, she’s just one spoiled little girl with a sword,” Duncan said. “If she gets too feisty, Azrael can throw her over his shoulder and carry her to the portal.”
The image was so ridiculous that I smiled. “It almost seems like you’ve been cursed with forgetfulness.”
Alisa had indeed always been spoiled and willful.
But she was also dangerous.
Delightfully so.
Or at least, that was how I’d seen her once.
Continue reading Wandering Queen…
Also by May Dawson
The Lost Fae Series
Wandering Queen
Fallen Queen
Rebel Queen
Their Shifter Princess:
Their Shifter Princess
Their Shifter Princess 2: Pack War
Their Shifter Princess 3: Coven’s Revenge
Their Shifter Academy:
Their Shifter Academy: A Prequel Novella
Their Shifter Academy 1: Unwanted
Their Shifter Academy 2: Unclaimed
Their Shifter Academy 3: Undone
Their Shifter Academy 4: Unforgivable
Their Shifter Academy 5: Unwinnable
Their Shifter Academy 6: Unstoppable
The Wild Angels & Hunters Series:
Wild Angels
Fierce Angels
Dirty Angels
Chosen Angels
Academy of the Supernatural
Her Kind of Magic
His Dangerous Ways
Their Dark Imaginings
Ashley Landon, Bad Medium
Dead Girls Club
