Stolen by the Fae

by Laxmi Hariharan

  “Hey, when you have your life on the line…which is most of the time in this dream job”—he scratches his chin— “the least I can do is keep things light.”

  “Right.” I lean back on my heels. The band at the head of the crowd strikes up their music. “That’s the sixty-minute countdown for the ceremony to start.”

  He doesn’t take the hint. “You need to keep your wits about you.”

  “Don’t preach to the converted.” Anger bubbles up in my veins.

  “And yeah, you’re welcome.” One side of his lips turns up in the semblance of a smile.

  “Not that I don’t appreciate your concern,” I mutter. “Actually, nope. Strike that. I can do without it.” I set my jaw. “You forget that I’ve done assignments like this before.”

  “You’ve never been this distracted.” He holds my gaze.

  “Right.” I roll my shoulders. “Go on, get out of here.” I chin jerk at him, then turn around and stalk away.

  “Rendezvous back in Singapore in three hours?” His voice is low but pitched at that high octave sound that only Faes can pick up.

  I raise my thumb over my shoulder.

  “Get your ass back in one piece so I can trash it in our next Dare.” He alludes to the weekly friendly—or on occasion not that friendly— brawls that the Fae Corps indulge in.

  “Keep dreaming, asshole.” I lower my thumb only to flip him the bird.

  The air around me thins. I don’t need to look back to know that he’s already teleporting out.

  I join the queue waiting to enter the palace on Red Square where the swearing-in is set to begin.

  The wind blows, and I huddle into my jacket. It’s cold in Moscow even at the height of summer. I run my fingers over my short hair, wishing I’d thought to bring a cap.

  I’ve never gotten out of the habit of the crew cut, a hangover from the days I’d served in the Fae Corps.

  Every man and woman on the tiny island of Singapore has to complete four years of military service. It pays to be prepared when you are the only place in the world with a majority population of Faes. A race that everyone seems to hate.

  Not surprising, given Igor had terrorized the entire shifter race. He’d rebelled against the Fae Elders and taken over Moscow, a vital gateway to the Eurasian countries.

  And now I’ve been sent to take revenge.

  I stamp my feet to stay warm.

  Security personnel from the Bureau of Shifters walk around, scanning the crowd. One of their recruits, clearly a wolf shifter by his scent, stops in front of me. “Step aside, sir.”

  I break file.

  He scans me from my toes up to my face with his security device, then waves the scanner in front of my eyes and around my head.

  “Interesting security protocol.”

  He grunts.

  “Expecting break-ins today?”

  The soldier’s face doesn’t change expression.

  I return his scrutiny. He finally angles his head. “Proceed.” His forehead furrows.

  I shove open the double doors then walk toward one of the seats at the circular balcony that overlooks the hall.

  There’s a platform at the far end where the ceremony is going to take place. Someone tugs at my sleeve. I swivel around, all my senses on edge.

  There’s no one in front of me.

  I look down to find a little girl staring up. Her eyes gleam with intelligence.

  “You can’t hide from me. I have the sight.” She taps her temple. “I can foresee.” Her curls flow around her shoulders.

  “Is that right?” A smile tugs my lips.

  “I am not joking.” She folds her arms over her chest.

  “Didn’t think you were.”

  She goes on as if I hadn’t spoken. “I can tell that you are going to play an important role in the future of this city, you know—”

  “Akasha.” A woman races down the stairs. Her mane of hair streams behind her as she comes to a halt next to the girl. “The way you keep disappearing, I am beginning to think you have the ability to teleport along with everything else.”

  The girl winks at me, then turns to the woman. “I had to see him, but my work here is done now.”

  “You speak in riddles, child.” She tosses her head, then trains her gaze on me. The whiff of dominance from her is unmistakable. Clearly, an alpha dragon shifter.

  She eyes my close-cut hair, then her gaze drops to the dog tags which must peek out from above the collar of my T-shirt. “I take it you are part of the Bureau of Shifters?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I fold my arms behind me.

  “Chief Logan needs to teach his soldiers better ways of concealing themselves in plain clothes,” she sniffs.

  I set my jaw. “Now, hold on a sec—”

  She whisks around, her skirt swishing behind her as she strides away.

  "That was my godmother." Akasha turns to me. “Her name is Eve.” The girl’s eyes gleam at me. “She’s the Leader of the Dragons."

  “You sure like to talk, kid.” I crack my neck, wishing for a cigarette, for whiskey, for something stronger to help me find my composure. Oh! Wait. I gave up smoking a year ago. Bad for teleportation.

  “Akasha, you coming?” The dragon leader's voice floats down to us.

  The girl waves a fist, and I bump it.

  “Our secret.” She holds up her pinky finger.

  “What do you mean?” I stare, not sure whether to be amused or alarmed.

  She winks.

  “Right.” I huff out a breath and twine my little finger with hers.

  “Behave now.” She grins; a naughty, filled-with-meaning grin. Then, pulling her hand away, she turns and runs after Eve.

  I haven’t even started my mission, and already it seems I am being upstaged. “Damn females in this city.”

  And I’ve come to take out the most prominent of them.

  I had to get in the long way on foot to save the teleportation powers for when I really need them, like escaping from silver-eyed human females who smell like honey and taste sweeter.

  I flick out my tongue and touch my lower lip.

  I can still taste her essence. My head spins. My dick throbs. A man dressed in a formal suit steps on stage. He walks to the center of the platform.

  “I am Logan, Chief of the Bureau of Shifters and the representative of the trinity factions of Shifters, the Council of Bombay, and the Immortals. It is my pleasure to welcome the person you’ve been waiting for, Amara.”

  9

  Gia

  I stand behind Amara and to the right as the Fae female walks to the podium.

  Logan crosses to the other side to give her the stage.

  She doesn’t acknowledge his introduction.

  He stalks her as she takes her place behind the podium. There’s no mistaking the yearning in his gaze. Or the fact that she ignores him and surveys the audience instead.

  Hmm. As Amara’s bodyguard, I’ve been talking to her day and night over the past week.

  I’d been relieved briefly for a day to rest up before this event, which is when I’d headed out into the city last night. But during this time it’s become clear to me that Chief Logan has a sweet spot for Amara.

  She may pretend not to reciprocate, but the sparks flying between the two indicate otherwise.

  I take all this in as I scan over the assembled audience.

  Arms behind my back, I stay in the background and behind Amara.

  Legs slightly parted, I regulate my breathing, keep my muscles limber and ready to move.

  Jessica is on the other side of the stage.

  An itch crawls up the back of my neck, and I can’t quite shake it off. I want to run a finger around my collar but resist. Any movement will draw attention to me, and I don’t want that. I train my gaze over the faces on the front row in the audience. Then scan back, all the way back, taking in the upturned faces.

  “Thank you for placing your trust in me.” Amara’s voice echoes around the arena. “


  Logan steps forward and holds up a book.

  Amara places her hand palm down on it. She still doesn’t look at Logan’s face.

  “Repeat after me: I, Amara Lavelle, do solemnly swear to take over as the Leader of Moscow and to protect this city to the best of my ability.”

  Amara repeats the words, her voice ringing out with complete honesty. Heat pools in my chest.

  No one can doubt the veracity of this woman.

  She completes the pledge.

  Logan steps back from her, walking away off stage.

  There is clapping from the audience.

  Then one of the men jumps to his feet. Tall, well-built, he towers over the rest.

  His long hair streams around his shoulders.

  He’s wearing army fatigue pants and a simple black T-shirt, yet it’s clear that he is a leader. “The mer-shifters are pleased to lend our support behind you.”

  He holds up a fisted arm.

  Applause breaks out in the audience.

  Eve rises to her feet on the other side of the crowd. “The dragons appreciate the sacrifice you’ve made to keep the peace between the species.” It had been one of their own kind who had killed Amara’s father, Igor, who had been hell-bent on destroying the dragons. “We couldn’t have chosen a better representative to take over.”

  Others jump to their feet, clapping. The applause rises again.

  The hair on the back of my neck hardens. I sense the air on stage thin; the very molecules seem to be electrified. Something is not right. My palms tingle, and I flex my legs.

  Then all the breath seems to be sucked from the space.

  I try to take in a breath, and my lungs burn. Amara coughs. The tension in the audience elevates. A portal forms next to her and a figure walks out of it, toward her.

  That familiar scent of fresh rain flows over me. Even before I’ve registered the outline of the man who strides to Amara, I know who it is.

  My throat closes, and adrenaline laces my blood.

  He raises his arm, his finger pointed at her. The tips of his fingers glow. “The Fae cannot have you colluding with the other species.” His voice seems to project around the arena. “It simply weakens our position, the agenda we have in maintaining our position as the most powerful, most advanced species in the world. It’s why you have to die.”

  Only when I feel the stage floor under my feet do I realize I am moving. I throw myself between Amara and the new arrival.

  His face jerks to me.

  Those blue eyes, so familiar and yet not, narrow on me. His features tighten. He doesn’t panic, doesn’t change his stance. He may as well be wearing a mask over his face for all the emotion he shows. He angles his body so the beam of light from his finger wavers.

  A piercing pain grips my arm. It’s as if I’ve been pierced by a burning sword.

  It’s so intense that my brain cells seem to fuse together. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound emerges.

  "Gia!" Amara's scream echoes in my ears.

  White and red flickers in front of my eyes. Then the wooden floor of the platform rises to meet me.

  10

  Dante

  My heartbeat races, nearly exploding out of my rib cage. It can’t be her. Not the woman I met at the bar.

  Her body topples over, and my insides twist.

  Adrenaline laces my blood. Every part of me coils in tension, and then I drop into myself, all my molecules oozing into one long slush of energy as I teleport to her. I catch her before her body hits the floor, then straighten with her in my arms.

  She’s still, so still. There’s blood streaming from her arm. The scent of burning flesh, her burning flesh, assails me. My gut heaves.

  Gia, that's what Amara had called her. Now I know her name. But it's late, too late. I’d just hurt her, maybe killed her. No, no, this can’t be happening.

  Emotions heat my blood, tumbling over each other. I pull them back, coil them into a ball of tight rage in the center of my gut. All my training, earned in those years of hard military service with the Fae Corps, kicks in. My vision narrows. My senses go into hyper alert.

  There’s a movement at the core of my vision. Chief Logan darts in from the other side of the stage. He plants his body between me and Amara, then reaches behind and yanks out a modified gun at me.

  I pause, all my muscles locked.

  Amara steps up and around Logan. “Tell the Fae the time to fight is over. We need to put our differences aside and work with the other species for peace. That’s the only way to drive progress.”

  “Brave words.” I tilt my head. “I doubt the Fae Elders will see eye to eye with it.”

  The woman in my arms moans. My heart races, and I tighten my grip around my precious burden. I need to get her to safety.

  The air in the space thins. All my blood rushes to my limbs.

  I draw in the oxygen in the space. A portal appears, and I race toward it.

  Amara takes a step forward. “Let her go.”

  “No.” I reach the portal.

  Logan moves with Amara and once more angles his body, so she’s half covered from my vision.

  “Why are you taking her?” Her fingers tighten into fists. “She saved my life. Don’t hurt her.”

  “You have my word.” I drop into myself, step into the portal, and transport out.

  Even before the portal forms again, I am running.

  Every part of my body is frozen with fear. I’ve never felt this paralyzed, yet I force myself to keep going, running across the floor to the bed in the center of the room in the safe house in the hills of Sochi.

  I couldn’t think of where else to take her.

  Not back to Singapore; the Elders would not understand. The Fae are not evil, but they are also not forgiving. They’d certainly not allow me to take care of a frail human. They are fiercely protective of their gene pools and look down on all other species as inferior. She won’t be safe there.

  I walk to the bed and place her on it.

  She hasn’t flicked a muscle since I teleported out.

  Her features are ashen. I look at her arm and see the twisted flesh. It’s burned all the way down the side. Then I notice that the cloth is stuck to her chest and singed in places. I place a finger below her nose—there’s no sign of breath.

  Sweat drips down my spine. “No,” I swear aloud. “I will not let you die. I cannot let you go, not like this.”

  I scoop up her body in my arms and hold her close to my chest. I am not aware of the tears running down my cheeks, not until one of them plops on her forehead.

  I know now what I have to do. I don’t even hesitate. I drop into myself, into that core of me that every Fae has. Some call it magic, others simply say it’s our connection to the shared consciousness that unites all the Fae. A portal to the other world, perhaps, or simply a parallel reality that exists with the one we live in. I drop into it and search for her spirit. The silver-green pool that shimmers and which feels just like her.

  I reach out to it and draw her essence through me, twining it with my soul.

  A part of me warns that if I do this, there is no going back; we will be mated for life. I accept it, then push it aside. I’d known she was my mate from the moment I’d laid eyes on her, felt her, scented her, wanted her. I can’t live without her. I will not let her die. I need her. Will do anything to keep her anchored to this plane. I open myself up, body, mind, and soul. Her silver-green mixes with my blood. I let her essence fill me, drawing what she needs from me. Letting her spirit take what is needed to heal her flesh. All my past, my experiences, my hopes and dreams, that part of me I’ve never shown the world, never shown anyone else, I let her spirit invade that and take of that simple goodness.

  It’s as if her soul knows exactly what it needs to restore her back to health.

  It pulls from me, merges with me, draws on everything I am inside, and I let it. Then the silver-green essence, now streaked with blue, draws back, right back into her. I sen
se the energy fill her veins, flowing exactly to where it is needed. Filling in the holes, repairing her flesh.

  Sweat pops on my forehead, streaks my skin. My T-shirt sticks to my back. My head spins. The energy drains from me and flows straight into her. Still, I don’t let go of her.

  Sinking back onto the bed, I hold her close, folding my body around her as if trying to shield her from the elements while her corporeal body restores itself.

  My last thought is that if I survive this, I will have changed, and so will she.

  11

  Gia

  I awake to the sense of heat surrounding me.

  Yet I still feel cold. A shiver racks my body. There is a ball of sensation lodged against my rib cage. It twinges, squeezing down on my lungs. I take in a breath, and my throat burns.

  Every part of my body aches.

  My shoulder throbs, and my stomach rolls. I try to move my arm and almost scream as pain mangles my nerves. Sparks explode in my head, and I gasp.

  Arms come around me, pulling me close to a hard chest.

  His scent fills my senses. The scent of the first rain spiked with that dangerous edge of dark chocolate. Forbidden, carnal, and so familiar. My insides quake. My thighs clench.

  I reach for the source of that warmth and that life-affirming essence, even though a part of me already knows it’s him.

  The man with the blue eyes I’d met at the bar. He’d appeared again at the swearing-in ceremony. He’d shot me, and he’s Fae.

  My arm twitches in remembrance. Another surge of white pain tightens my skin. I try to moan but find my throat is dry. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. “Water,” I gasp out.

  Then I am being raised with an arm around my shoulders.

  The feel of cool glass against my lips makes me open my mouth. I drink of the water, letting it pour down my throat.