Fae Touched (Fae Touched Book 1): Paranormal Romance

by Lisa Rae Roman

  “It’s my job to protect this region.” Abby felt Samuel’s barely restrained anger through the developing mating bond.

  “And it’s mine to protect the queen,” he snapped. “And that is exactly what I’m going to do.”

  “Samuel,” the queen said with a calmness belying the tense atmosphere. “I would appreciate if you waited to tear my heir into pieces until after he explains.”

  Samuel managed a brusque nod.

  “As I was saying, the informant is being recruited by a small subgroup of the Knights of Humanity. A group that harbors more than the occasional witch or two.

  “As we suspected, Ferwyn outcasts have also turned against our kind, but how they remain sane without an Alpha’s bond is still a mystery. The answer to that riddle along with who is organizing them for the knights is something we still need to discover.” The prince paused, the magnitude of his statement settling hard on everyone in the room. “And before you ask, I will not be disclosing the agent’s identity.”

  “Like hell you won’t,” Samuel fired back, his arm tensing around Abby’s waist.

  “Did you tell Monroe his name?” Lady Rose asked, her posture stiff.

  “Yes, as the Standish caraidh, Consul Monroe needed to be apprised in case something happened to me.” His expression was remorseless as he addressed the room. “I’m the informant’s only contact on the outside. And it needs to stay that way.”

  “Why, Myles?”

  “Commander Walker would not agree with my choice, though it was the logical one. I have no doubt he would have tried to overturn my decision and impeded the success of the mission before it began.

  “And I won’t place the burden of a possible death on your shoulders, my queen. This male is in a precarious position. Although I’m heartless enough to sacrifice anyone to defend your rule without disturbing a single day’s sleep, I would prefer he survived the experience.”

  “As would I.” Lady Rose’s lips compressed in annoyance, but she inclined her head. “Samuel?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “You do not,” Lord Myles replied.

  “Then I’ll let the identity of the agent slide for now.” The Alpha’s jaw stretched to make room for the enlarged canines muddling his speech. “But I want your vow to share every scrap of intel received immediately.”

  “Done.”

  Abby pried Samuel’s clawed fist open, rubbing his palm hard with her thumb. He blew out a rush of air, sharp teeth and even sharper nails slowly retreating. “But if you hold anything back, my prince. All bets are off.”

  Chapter 22

  Samuel heard Abby singing from halfway down the hallway and covered the remaining distance to her apartment with his first grin in days. He entered the suite unannounced, muting the mating connection to hide his arrival.

  His little halfblood was cooking, her thick ponytail swishing like a metronome as she danced at the stove. Her sweet, but off-key voice rose above the strains of an old rock song he could hear blaring inside her wireless headphones. She had changed from work attire into minuscule, khaki shorts that displayed toned legs and a surprisingly shapely butt for someone so petite. Samuel couldn’t see her feet behind the kitchen island, but knew they’d be bare—they always were when she was alone.

  He dropped his leather bag soundlessly to the floor and shut the door.

  Although his wolf’s nose revealed the truth at Chess weeks ago, he’d just returned from their lab in Nashville with indisputable proof the Fae Touched community had turned on itself. The tar-like substance responsible for the riot had been analyzed and verified as magically corrupted human blood.

  Samuel also met with the Alpha of the Music City pack. Two more clanmates had been outcasted. Like James, the impetus to break with the Clan was the vehement opposition to Rose’s perceived lack of response to the escalating poor treatment of the Fae Touched by humans. A queen who’d ruled the ESC for decades with little disapproval.

  And it wasn’t only the Nashville pack. All of Clan Walker’s Alphas were reporting more Ferwyn outcasts in the past six months than the past six decades. His fellow priohs across the country admitted the exodus was happening in their territories as well.

  The exiled shifters swiftly fell off the grid, but Alphas from the other eight regions weren’t receiving binding requests. Were these outcasted joining this subgroup of the knights when usually the threat of turning feral dictated they became loners when not seeking a bond with another region’s pack?

  Damn, he was tired.

  Samuel left his boots beside the duffel and padded silently to the main living area. Abby’s pretty ass swayed side to side, drawing his immediate interest. He leaned his hips on the back of a gray striped chair, crossed his arms, and stretched his legs, determined to forget his problems for a short time and enjoy the show.

  Abby sang while rhythmically shaking the contents of a small jar into a shallow pot. Jerking her free hand to her ear, fingers in the universal shape of a gun, she snapped her arm straight and belted, “We’ll give it a shot.” Without missing a beat, she set the shaker on the counter, grabbed a wooden spoon, and held it to her mouth like a microphone. After singing a few discordant notes, she dipped it into the saucepan and stirred while chanting, “Ba oopa oopa doop. Ba oopa oopa doop.”

  Since Samuel first met Abby, she’d endured the agony of Walking the Rip to rescue a queen unacknowledged as her own. In gratitude for the selfless act, they’d taken away her freedom. She had been bruised and battered attempting to save yet another stranger from harm, and then almost drowned under his watch.

  The tracker Tucker planted on Owen outside Babydolls had winked out soon after the knight’s thug fled Rachel’s store. His last known location was West Memphis, Arkansas—Sinclair’s territory. If the neighboring Dádhe king and his witches were involved with the Knights of Humanity, the ESC had acquired a powerful enemy within the Nine. Samuel had to assume Sinclair knew about the Na’fhuil, and could be behind Abby’s abduction the night of the news conference.

  A cold knot formed in his gut, creeping into his heart and turning it into a block of ice. Forcing his muscles to relax and his sharp canines to recede, Samuel reminded himself Abby was right in front of him. Safe. And she would stay that way if he had anything to say about it. No one was taking his halfblood away from him again. She was his, and he would protect her with his life.

  Abby continued to massacre the song’s melody, completely unaware of her solo audience.

  Samuel pushed his dire thoughts aside, enjoying the enchanting sight of curvy hips gyrating and sinking into a low crouch. His lips, along with his cock, twitched when she sinuously straightened again.

  After executing her last dance move, Abby dropped the spoon in the pot, raised her arms over her head, and spun for what he assumed was the big finale. She spotted him mid-turn. Unable to halt her momentum, Abby did a complete three-sixty before finally facing him again.

  “Samuel.” Her hand flew to her heart. “You scared me half to death. I didn’t expect you before dawn.” She hastily removed the earphones.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” He wasn’t sorry at all.

  “How long have you been standing there?” she asked, fiddling with the power button of the headset, pink staining her cheeks.

  “Long enough to know you can’t sing worth a lick,” he said with disproportionate male satisfaction, delighted to discover another of Abby’s little-known facets. He wanted to uncover them all. “Bon Jovi?” He already knew the answer but asked to distract her from his less than complimentary observation.

  “He was one of my mom’s favorites. We grew up listening to his music.” Her embarrassment slid away with the recollection, her lips tilting up. “She had a huge crush on the lead singer. Said he had a great butt.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Still does,” she added, eyes sparkling. Twirling, she turned off the gas and covered the pan. “I’m making spaghetti.”

  “For breakfas
t?”

  She shrugged, slipping her feet into the discarded heeled sandals left by the fridge. Hauling a step stool from the corner, she used it to delve into one of the higher overhead cabinets and retrieved a set of drinking glasses and two ceramic bowls.

  “What time did the queen let you go?” Samuel asked, frowning at seeing her strain for the everyday staples. Why hadn’t she moved them to a lower shelf, rearranged the kitchen to suit her five-foot-nothing height? Abby had been living in the apartment since she’d arrived on the island over a month ago.

  “Around four.” She set the cups and dishes on the center island. “Oh, guess what?”

  “What?” He couldn’t help smiling at her enthusiasm, ignoring the niggle in his brain telling him something wasn’t quite right.

  “You remember my friend Penny? I worked with her at La Bella.”

  She was hard to forget. Penny was a tall, painfully skinny woman with a wealth of curly red hair who held the misconception that the word fuck was an acceptable replacement for a comma. The latter trait he’d discovered when she arrived unannounced at the complex to check on Abby after the attack on the queen, and was flatly refused entry.

  Two more dissimilar women you’d be hard pressed to find.

  “She called me yesterday.” Abby lifted the lid on a larger pot, adding a generous handful of salt. “Guess who she’s dating?”

  “Who?” His wolf was distracted by the sweet smell of his female underneath the savory scent of simmering tomatoes, hamburger, and garlic.

  “Derek Cull,” she said excitedly.

  “The cop?” Samuel uncrossed his arms, eyes narrowed, not forgetting how the young officer had reeked of lust when he had been near Abby. “Darlin’, c’mere,” he said abruptly, the command gruff with what he accepted was unwarranted jealously.

  “What?” She scrunched her dainty nose. “Isn’t that great? He seemed like such a nice guy.”

  “Need you in my arms. Now, baby,” he warned when she didn’t move fast enough.

  Abby’s head tilted at the urgency of his demand, but reset the lid and started toward him. “She wants to meet downtown for a girl’s night out, tell me all about it. I think she really likes him.”

  “Take Hop Blackwater with you and make it a late lunch. I don’t want you off-island at night without me.”

  “That kind of defeats the girls and night theme,” she complained halfheartedly, aware any argument would be a losing battle.

  “Right.” Abby sighed when he didn’t comment, halting a few feet away. “I suppose it’ll be more than just Hop?”

  Samuel ignored the ludicrous question. He wouldn’t let her off-site with fewer than three of his best Guards accompanying her. Maybe not even then with things so unstable.

  Unwilling to wait a second longer to touch her, he yanked her into his arms, Abby’s light weight hitting his chest. His thick body engulfed her tiny frame, reminding him of her fragility.

  “Why haven’t you eaten yet?”

  She blinked at the sudden change of topic. “I was waiting for you.”

  “Did you have lunch?”

  “Well…” Her gaze left his.

  “Abby?”

  “I forgot.”

  “You forgot?” he asked, incredulous. “In the one-hundred and twenty years since I was whelped, I can guarantee I’ve never once forgotten a meal.”

  “We got busy. And I wasn’t really hungry.”

  “You need to eat more.” He squeezed her hip, letting her know it wasn’t a request.

  Abby would lose some of her humanlike weaknesses after becoming his Ca’anam, the mate bond connecting more than their lifelines. But until then, he would make damn sure she took care of herself.

  “If I ate as much as you wanted me to, my backside would be as big as a house. I don’t have a Ferwyn’s metabolism, you know.”

  “Your backside is perfect.” He grabbed her delectable ass, easily lifting her to lay against his torso.

  “And I want to keep it that way, thank you very much.”

  He ran his nose alongside her cheek and kissed her temple. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I missed you, too,” she said shyly, her forehead landing on his chest.

  “Any contact from Faraday?”

  “No.” Relief was clear in her tone. “Maybe the ambassador hasn’t called because he knows Conlan is on the island, and he can’t follow through with the threats on my brother’s life.”

  “He’ll call eventually.” Samuel rolled his day-old scruff over the crown of her head, renewing her scent on his skin. “The facility won’t give up that easily.”

  “No, they won’t,” she said with equal amounts of bitterness and resignation.

  “When Faraday contacts you again, tell him you’ll spy on the queen if he will let you stay on the island.” He slid his hands to the backs of her bare thighs, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his hips. “Giving the ambassador meaningless details concerning her schedule won’t hurt Rose but will show your willingness to cooperate. And when the time is right, we can use the trust you’ve built to divert or mislead him when we really need to.”

  “But if he finds out you’ve…” She kept her head bowed, cleared her throat delicately and said, “Bitten me. Will he really believe I’ve turned against you?”

  “He’ll believe you’ll do anything to prevent returning to the facility. You’ve proven that by escaping the first time. A temporary Mark wouldn’t change your mind about working for them again.”

  “Right. Temporary.” Her hold on him tensed as he walked them to the kitchen. Eyes still avoiding his, she asked, “How did it go in Nashville?”

  “Pretty much as we suspected.”

  “So, not good?”

  Samuel placed her on the butcher-block island, his hands settling on her waist. “The bags of blood that dropped from the ceiling at Chess had cells altered by dark magic.”

  “The Dádhe were as much victims as the people they were trying to kill.” Abby’s voice went tender with compassion. “Why would someone do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Any idea who was behind it yet?”

  “No,” he said, unable to hide his frustration. “But we’re beginning to suspect King Nathan had something to do with your recent dip in the Mississippi.” Although he tried to make light of the near miss, he couldn’t suppress the low growl in his voice.

  “You’ll figure it all out.” Her fingers trailed through his hair in slow, sweeping motions from forehead to nape, her nails lightly scratching his scalp.

  “And then I’ll stop them,” he promised, gravitating to her touch and absorbing her warmth like a man denied the sun for far too long.

  “I know you will.” Her hand dropped to his chest, and she sighed. “I saw Sarah last night. She looked better. Is her mate back? I was afraid to ask and upset her.”

  “No, not yet.” He couldn’t keep his reply from sounding harsh. How could James have left his Ca’anam? His son? It was hard to reconcile the male he’d considered a friend for decades with the actions his brother-in-law had taken. But Abby was right. Sarah’s health had improved since the incident at Chess. His sister’s skin was less pale, her eyes clearer. She had gained a little weight. Maybe Sarah would be one of the rare female shifters who could survive separation from her mate.

  Or maybe James was nearer than anyone thought.

  “Did you give Hop any trouble while I was gone?” Samuel asked, running the pad of his thumb over her full lower lip. He’d turned the topic again, not wanting their reunion spoiled by the turmoil that seemed to go along with his job as commander and his birthright as Alpha.

  “He’s a big old grouch and has no sense of humor. Zero. Zilch. Nada,” she said with a pretty pout. “You’d think he expected a horde of vampire ninjas to come and whisk me away from the nail salon, in the middle of the afternoon. It was ridiculous.”

  “You took Hop Blackwater to get your nails done?”

  “I alread
y had the appointment. And I told him to wait outside.”

  “But he didn’t.” He couldn’t. Samuel ordered him to guard Abby with his life.

  “It wasn’t my fault a little girl suggested he paint his nails pink.”

  “What?” He coughed, choking at the image of the stern Guard getting a manicure.

  “I might have encouraged it somewhat,” she said sheepishly. “She was only four years old and couldn’t figure out why else he’d be in the shop. She told him quite solemnly that it didn’t hurt a bit to get your nails colored.”

  Her bowed mouth lifted, voicing the child’s logic. “I couldn’t disagree with her, now could I? The manicurist didn’t have another client waiting and was willing to do it for free. And then Johnnie’s mother who owns the place and the other customers all agreed he should and—”

  “He gave in?” Samuel glided his palms over her hips and thighs, down her calves, then removed her shoes, and tossed them aside.

  “It was a lovely shade of pink.” Abby’s entire face lit up, crystalline blue eyes igniting with mischief, plush lips dark rose, laughter light and feminine.

  She took his goddamn breath away.

  “You should have seen him. His expression…” She released Samuel and leaned on the stone surface, bare legs dangling over the island’s edge. “It was priceless. You’d think he was going to the electric chair, or he’d swallowed a very large, very hairy bug. I’m not sure which.”

  Samuel leaned in, touched his mouth to her smiling one because he couldn’t resist. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

  Her breath hitched, but she left her lips on his when she answered, “I know, but it was so…” She pulled away suddenly, her brow creased. “Wait. Did you use your key to get into my apartment again?”

  He went in for another kiss, but she nudged him back before he could deepen it.

  “You can’t just come into my suite whenever you want, you know.” She looked adorably serious. “I know we’re…um…sleeping together, but—”

  Samuel collared her nape, his other hand smoothing over her ribs, thumb barely touching the underside of her firm breast while lightly stroking the swell through her thin green blouse. “We do more than sleep,” he teased, duly rewarded when a lovely flush crept over her cheeks.