Fae Touched (Fae Touched Book 1): Paranormal Romance

by Lisa Rae Roman

  A feminine giggle, poorly smothered, cut through her escalating panic.

  Johnnie and the purple haired Guard, Vicky, were sitting with the commander, both females grinning at Abby like loons. Johnnie was practically bouncing in her chair, eyes twinkling with excitement. Tucker was by the pretty shifter’s side, which was where he always seemed to be, studying his shoes.

  “C’mere,” Samuel encouraged in a deep baritone, his arm patiently outstretched.

  “Abby,” Gregory called her name loudly in the quiet café, signaling excitedly for her to join him. She hadn’t even noticed the odd vampire was in the restaurant.

  A full-throated rumble rolled over the relative silence.

  Abby mouthed “later” to the now sulking Dádhe, and before she could change her mind, hurried to Samuel, placing her hand in his. Warmth, assurance, lust, and…happiness spilled from his fingers into hers through the newly-made bond.

  “Hi,” she said softly.

  “Hey,” he returned, promptly tugging hard enough for her to spill onto his lap. Abby’s butt met his firm thighs. She gasped, and his free arm wrapped around her waist, cementing her in place.

  She tried to wiggle off, embarrassed by the public display.

  He squeezed her middle, flexing his fingers around their clasped hands and loudly announced, “If you haven’t met her yet, this is Abigail.” He paused, scrutinizing every downcast shifter’s head. “And she’s mine.”

  “Like hell, she is,” a male voice boomed.

  Abby’s eyes widened, her gaze, along with everyone else’s, whipping to the tall, angry man filling the Café’s entrance.

  Built comparably to an NFL linebacker, he would give Tucker a run for his money in sheer size alone. His hair was military short and pure white, the square angles of his jawline covered in reddish-blond stubble; the mismatch dramatically emphasized the bleached color on his head. He was dressed casually in worn jeans, and a wrinkled, striped button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows revealing tanned forearms.

  “I don’t know who you think you are,” he said, standing loose-limbed, fingers slightly curled, knees bent—ready for battle. “But you need to get your hands off her right fucking now.”

  “Who are you?” Samuel moved faster than Abby thought possible, standing and pushing her behind him with lightning speed.

  Abby didn’t wait for his answer. She darted from behind Samuel and rushed toward the door. The move was so unanticipated, Samuel hesitated. She heard him yell for her to wait—but she couldn’t. While everyone around them seemed stunned into paralysis, she catapulted herself into the man’s arms. He caught her, and hugged the breath from her lungs.

  Dropping her forehead onto his chest, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling, chanting over and over, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

  Samuel was the first to come out of his stupor, crossing the room with incredible quickness. “Put her down now,” he said, snarling, large body taut as a bowstring. His upper and lower canines were lengthened, wicked claws extended.

  Abby tried to explain through her stream of tears. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

  “Last chance,” Samuel warned, disregarding her reassurances.

  The commander was growling. There was no other word for the guttural noises reverberating from his chest. The gleaming eyes of his wolf flickered over her tearstained face and then returned to glower at the man holding her.

  Abby thought she saw a flash of pain in the vivid yellow depths.

  Wait. What?

  “Samuel.” She sniffled, pushing at Conlan’s shoulder. He let her slide to the floor but didn’t release his grip on her arms. Wiping her wet cheeks, Abby turned to her brother and tried again. “Samuel, this is my—”

  “Oh, hell no.” Conlan swore, scanning her bruised cheek with wild eyes, his visage ravaged. Her brother’s inspection dropped to her throat, pulling the collar of her shirt roughly aside to reveal the freshly made bitemark. His infuriated glare swung to Samuel. “Sonofabitch, I’m going to kill you.”

  Giving her no chance to explain, Conlan’s grip tightened, and his magic flared, wrenching them violently into the Rip. The excruciating pressure punched into Abby’s belly like a Mack truck, robbing her of breath. Every inch of her skin was scraped raw before they bounced back out, landing on the opposite side of the café—away from Samuel.

  Her vision swam, stomach roiling as Conlan propped her against the wall, let go, and Jumped without her.

  Samuel roared, knocking aside tables as though they were Tinker toys. People scattered in the wake of the unbridled destruction. Only members of the Guard, any clanmates present, and Gregory held their ground. And they all wore matching bewildered expressions, probably assuming they were witnessing an illusion or magic trick. Most Fae Touched had forgotten the Na’fhuil existed at all, never mind knowing the abilities a halfblood possessed.

  Abby breathed in through her nose to keep nausea at bay, thankful she’d been too nervous earlier to eat.

  As though conjured from the air, Conlan reappeared in front of Samuel, jabbing at his larynx with stiff fingers. The force of the strike would have collapsed a human’s windpipe—incapacitating them with one blow.

  The commander barely grunted.

  “Conlan,” Abby called weakly, stumbling forward on rickety legs. “Stop it.”

  She watched helplessly as Samuel retaliated, long nails swiping at her brother’s neck.

  Her heart stuttered in terror. “No, please.”

  Conlan Jumped before the lethal claws could rip out his throat, rematerializing in front of Abby a split-second later.

  “Wait,” she gasped as he grabbed her around the midsection and pulled on his halfblood magic. They reappeared in the corridor outside the café, revealing the closely guarded secret that walls weren’t an obstacle for Jumpers.

  “Stop,” Abby tried to yell, but her lungs were empty, and it came out little more than a whimper. She grabbed at his shirt, battling wave after wave of sickening nausea.

  Her brother ignored her, sweeping her into his arms and Jumping again.

  Her organs twisted and flipped, the crushing pressure of the Rip dragging her in, then brutally slinging her out. They landed thirty feet down the hallway, Conlan running for the exit.

  The doors of the café burst open, Samuel’s Ferwyn speed catching up quickly. Conlan slowed and turned with Abby cradled close to his chest. He kept several feet between him and the furious shifter.

  Tucker had converted into wolf form, his gray beast gnashing his teeth and dripping saliva. Gregory followed closely behind the beta, staring unhappily at her brother.

  The remaining occupants of the restaurant poured into the passageway. Vicky’s fangs showed as she spoke into a comm unit on her shoulder. Johnnie stood next to her, wearing an expression of complete confusion and sporting two-inch nails.

  Samuel stalked closer, Tucker lurking behind him. Gregory shadowed the shifters, holding out his arms as if expecting her brother to pass Abby over willingly. Two more wolves paced at Tucker’s flanks.

  “No one takes her from me.” Samuel flashed his fangs. “No one harms her.”

  Abby looked into Conlan’s face. He was pale from executing so many Jumps in a row, his limbs quivering from exertion. His mouth was a tight, straight line, tension bracketing his usually full lips. Though severely outnumbered, she knew he wouldn’t back down.

  “You hurt her,” her brother accused Samuel. “Look at her cheek.”

  “No, Connie.” Entering the Rip in a Jump wasn’t as debilitating as Walking, but it still hurt like crap and made her sick as a dog. “Samuel would never hurt me. He didn’t do this to my face.”

  Conlan’s expression went hard as granite, his eyes falling tellingly to the teeth marks near her neck. His muscles flexed, and he Jumped, ending ten feet farther down the hall. His magic was depleted. “And I suppose he didn’t bite you either?” he asked over the Alpha’s bellow.

  “Conlan…listen to me,
” she pleaded, laying shaking fingers alongside his unshaven jaw. Some of her urgency must have gotten through because he allowed himself to be guided by the light pressure.

  She peered into pale irises rimmed in navy, his eyes notably lighter than two years ago.

  The color was once the same as their mother’s. The same as Abby still saw in the mirror every morning. Although unlike hers, Conlan’s were deep set and heavy-lidded with ridiculously long lashes. Exactly like her daddy’s. Mom had affectionately called them Elvis eyes.

  Abby’s throat clogged; he would have to hide the unnatural hue with contacts soon.

  “He did bite me, but I wanted him to,” she said, grappling with the bittersweet memories of her parents while determined to convince her brother to stand down. She couldn’t lose him too.

  “Well shit, Gails.” Unable to stand upright any longer, he backed to the nearest wall and slid down. His lids half-closed. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His lips quirked, causing the dimples to show. “I’ve missed you, squirt.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” She reached for Samuel who was crouched in front of them, his body taut and radiating unsuppressed fury.

  Ignoring her extended hand, the Alpha’s palm covered her neck in a purely possessive gesture no one could mistake for anything less than staking his territory.

  “You’re Abby’s sibling,” he said, the words distorted by prominent fangs that hadn’t receded into his gums, his feral stare fastening on Conlan. “So, you do not die today.”

  “Samuel—”

  “But if you ever cause her pain.”

  “It doesn’t hurt that badly,” she said, Jumping was nothing like being immersed in the Rip.

  “Or dare to take what’s mine away from me again.” He proceeded as if Abby hadn’t spoken. “I will end you.”

  “What? No.”

  “Do we understand each other, Jumper?” Samuel slipped his other hand under her knees.

  “Understand this, wolf.” Conlan’s hold tensed, his icy stare shooting daggers. “If you ever hurt her, they will never find your body.” He deliberately dropped his chin. The non-submissive act not lost on her or anyone else watching the spectacle unfolding.

  “You’re both crazy,” she whispered incredulously.

  “I will drop you in the Rip.” Her brother closed his hand over hers and squeezed, signaling her to shut up. “And let the void’s border tear you apart,” he finished, clipping each word.

  Tucker’s responding snarl to the threat against his Alpha was long and terrifying. The wolves at his side wove back and forth in agitation, their jaws snapping at the air. Vicky pulled her gun, pupils glowing blood red. Three more Ferwyn had converted and were growling, upper lips curled to reveal vicious canines. Johnnie had lowered into a perfect three-point stance, ready to pounce.

  “Conlan.” Furious, Abby yanked and jerked to dislodge the dueling grips, both males holding fast as they continued to glower at each other.

  The two people she cared about most in the world were being total idiots.

  “Nobody is killing anybody,” Abby screamed in frustration, temples pounding with its force. “I swear to God, Conlan, if you don’t shut up and listen to me, I will beat the ever-loving shit out of you.”

  Johnnie broke the answering silence. “Did you just…curse?”

  “She yelled, too,” Gregory said helpfully.

  Abby took a deep, cleansing breath, lessons learned in her childhood repeating like a mantra inside her head.

  A lady does not swear.

  A lady does not raise her voice.

  A lady never resorts to violence.

  All she had left of her mother were memories. Memories she’d been honoring for the past decade. Ideals she believed in and had just blown to smithereens. At least she hadn’t hit anybody—yet.

  “Samuel, this is my brother. You can’t hurt him,” she said in what she hoped was a reasonable tone. “And Conlan, you don’t threaten to kill my…” Boyfriend? Potential mate? “Clan Walker’s príoh.”

  That príoh was still growling his displeasure, leaning forward menacingly when Conlan didn’t release her quickly enough. As a Ferwyn Alpha, he wouldn’t yield in this matter. She wasn’t sure if he could. But neither would Conlan unless she convinced him otherwise. Her empty threats weren’t going to cut it.

  “Conlan?” She turned to her brother with false calm. He remained inflexible, refusing to back down from the male pissing contest. “I swear, I’m in no danger.” At least not from Samuel. He’d find out soon enough how badly his sister had screwed up. No reason to make matters worse until she had to.

  He remained unbending for tense seconds, ultimately conceding the contest of wills by lowering his gaze to hers. “We aren’t done here, Gails. We need to talk.”

  She exhaled in relief and then yelped, Samuel snatching her from Conlan’s lap as if she weighed nothing. He straightened to his full height, giving her a little bounce to settle her higher in his arms.

  “Tucker, find Abby’s brother a room to clean up in,” he ordered. “We’ll meet in the queen’s office in an hour to debrief.”

  Craning around Samuel’s broad back, she tried to catch a glimpse of Conlan. He appeared exhausted and was having trouble getting to his feet. Tucker had returned to human form and offered him a hand. Her brother took it.

  “Samuel, put me down. Conlan needs a healer.”

  “Tucker,” Samuel snapped without setting Abby to her feet or looking back.

  “On it,” the beta replied.

  “I can walk,” she grumbled. What was it with males wanting to carry her everywhere?

  Samuel stepped through the broken doorjamb of the café and sat in one of the few remaining upright plastic chairs without relinquishing his hold.

  “First, I need to feed you.” He pulled her close to his body, and Abby noticed for the first time how rapidly his heart beat underneath her palm.

  Johnnie brought her a bottled water and a cup of ice. Her pretty hazel eyes filled with questions. She set the drink on the table, but before her friend could ask anything, Samuel sent the shifter away with an order for a quarter of the menu to be delivered asap. Abby wasn’t hungry, her stomach too touchy after Jumping to eat anything for hours.

  She closed her lids and rolled the chilled glass across her forehead, hoping to cool her remaining aggravation and ease the Rip induced headache. Samuel’s knuckles grazed her bruised cheekbone, his breathing ragged and hot on her skin. She opened her eyes and met his, shining bright yellow.

  Setting the glass carefully on the table, she didn’t protest when Samuel pushed her bangs from her damp forehead. He ran his fingers through the hair near her temple, funneling the length from root to tip. After repeating the action several times, he moved to the pulse point beneath her jaw, caressing it tenderly with his thumb.

  Abby’s eyes stung as they roved the sharp planes of his face.

  He’d been afraid for her.

  “Okay.” A sweet pang settled beneath her ribs as Samuel dipped his nose to nudge the Mark on her shoulder. She stroked his tense shoulders. Petting him anywhere she could reach, hoping to ease his agitated beast. “Let’s eat.”

  Chapter 21

  “If you wouldn’t say it to someone’s face, then don’t say it at all.”

  Bridget MacCarthy

  “Not yet,” Abby said for the fourth time in less than half an hour.

  Samuel tensed at the soft reply, his scowl deepening as he guided her through the open doors of the queen’s office.

  She had only managed a few bites of a plain bagel earlier, and the Alpha wasn’t happy. No matter how badly Abby wanted to assuage his wolf, her system was in full revolt from the Rip Jumping and refused to cooperate. Placating him with the promise to eat as soon as her stomach settled hadn’t helped. He’d taken her literally, ordering a to-go bag filled with pastries and offering her one every five minutes.

  S
tubborn, sweet Ferwyn.

  Stepping farther into the room, she was relieved to spot Conlan conversing peaceably with Lady Rose and Jenkins at the conference table. Her brother smiled at her entrance, dimples flashing in a freshly shaven face, his broad shoulders visibly relaxing. He had changed into dark jeans and a gray t-shirt, his recent shower leaving his hair slightly damp, dulling its shocking whiteness.

  Her returning welcome dissolved, a brick weight pressing on her heart.

  How many Jumps did it take for the natural strawberry blond to lose its color? For the blue of his eyes to drastically lighten to an almost unearthly shade in under two years? Hundreds? How much danger had he been in while she ran scared and licked her wounds?

  “Goddammit, that hurts,” the prince griped.

  “Quit being such a baby.” Regan removed her glowing palms from Lord Myles’ partially bared torso.

  The Standish thlán was sitting on the edge of the queen’s desk, his dress shirt opened to the waist, the curvaceous healer standing between his legs. Several red lines in the distinct pattern of claw marks scored the expanse of his sculpted, lean chest.

  Gregory was hovering beside the bickering pair, holding a suit jacket and tie.

  “Maybe in the future, you should reconsider pissing off shifters who are bigger than you,” the witch said while leaving him.

  “Size isn’t everything.” He buttoned the blue pinstripe and tucked it into his slacks.

  “I see you’re delusional too,” she said with mock pity. “If you had listened to my advice last night and taken it easy, I wouldn’t be here at all as you would have already healed.”

  Abby wondered which suicidal Ferwyn had dared attack the prince, then decided she didn’t want to know when she caught Samuel’s satisfied smirk.

  Lord Myles popped his pressed collar and accepted the tie from his assistant, deftly knotting it around his neck. “And like last night, you took your sweet time getting here.”

  “I told you I was busy with another patient.” Regan cleaned the blood from her hands with a disinfectant wipe. “And I don’t come at the snap of your fingers.”