Twisted Devotion: A Fae Paranormal Romance

by Jessi Elliott

  I wanted to get out of Rockdale—and technically, I have—but on my own terms, controlling where I went and when. Now, I’m stuck again, which just makes it harder to get out of the car and face my assignment.

  I walk up the steps and stop in front of the set of frosted glass doors, where I knock twice. Admittedly, the luxury of this place is rather intimidating; somehow more so than what I’m here to do. It’s ridiculous, considering I’m used to spending time at the Westbrook Hotel. But this place is next-level fancy.

  I clench my hands into fists and then let them go, shaking them out to release the tension.

  It doesn’t do a whole lot the first time, but before I can do it again, the door opens, and Jackson Hawthorne smirks at me.

  My eyes drop from his mouth to his bare chest and stick there.

  Does he often answer the door half-naked? And with sweatpants riding dangerously low on his hips? Jesus.

  “Long time no see, Red.” His voice is as smooth and warm as caramel.

  After another second of admiring his lean, tight muscles, I meet his gaze and blink. His eyes—how could I forget how stunning they are? Melted honey with flecks of amber that pull you in. I want to believe they’re fake—costume contact lenses or something—but they’re completely real. They put my green eyes to shame.

  Jackson leans in the doorway, those annoyingly captivating eyes roaming over my face as they glimmer with faint amusement. “Last I checked, Tristan and Aurora were the only ones who experienced fae amnesia. You good?”

  I snap out of it and force a nod. “I’m fine. Hi, Jackson.”

  Granted, I’ve only seen this guy a handful of times during The Experiment takedown—none of which involved him actually participating in the fight. But somehow, I forgot about his ridiculously charismatic personality. Perhaps if he’d fought with us instead of hiding, I would have gotten to know him better.

  You will now, a voice sings in my head, and I fight the urge to scowl This guy got off scot-free and has been profiting from the deal Nik and Sky were essentially forced to make. Resentment isn’t an emotion I enjoy—feeding on or experiencing first-hand—but I’d be more comfortable protecting Jackson’s life if he’d risked it like the rest of us did ours. That thought prompts the wall to go up around my emotions, blocking my aura from view. Even though I don’t enjoy hiding it, I’d much rather Jackson not be able to see it.

  He grins at me, clearly unaware of my distain, and far too chipper for this hour. I suppose it’s partially my fault for showing up so early.

  “Please, come inside. Make yourself at home. Yada, yada, yada.” He glances behind me. “Did you bring anything? A change of clothes, perhaps?”

  “It’s in the car.” Shrugging, I add, “I’ll grab it later.”

  Nodding, he walks away, leaving the door open for me to enter the foyer.

  I follow him inside, closing the door behind me. “Is Skylar here yet?” I glance around but don’t see or hear anyone else. “She said she’d meet me here this morning.”

  “Are you kidding?” Jackson’s voice comes from the other room, and I follow the sound into the kitchen. “It’s barely daylight. Sky ain’t going to pull her ass out of bed until she absolutely has to. Nik would keep her there all day if he could.” He winks at me before tossing a blueberry into his mouth.

  I stop in the doorway; my arrival interrupted his breakfast.

  He must pick up on my reservation because he waves me into the room. “Coffee is fresh,” he murmurs, pointing behind him. “If you’re hungry, Gloria can make you pretty much whatever you want. She’s here a few days a week to cook and clean.”

  My eyes widen, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he has staff here. “I’m good. Thanks.”

  Jackson nods, cutting into what looks like a ham and cheese omelet.

  In the silence, my gaze can’t help but venture back to his very well-maintained stomach. I just need to get my fill of the delicious, taut muscles there, and then it won’t affect me anymore. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

  Jackson laughs deeply, and my cheeks go red. “See something you like?”

  I narrow my eyes, but I can’t deny it. “Your house too expensive for you to afford a shirt?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  His eyes sparkle, and he drops his gaze to his bare chest then back to me. “Nah, this is your welcome gift.”

  I gape at him before grumbling, “Here’s hoping you kept the receipt.”

  His lashes are still lowered when he smirks. “Now, that’s not very nice to say to your boss.”

  I choke on a laugh. “You’re hilarious.”

  He beams. “Thank you. Much better.”

  I push away from the doorframe and walk closer, crossing my arms over my chest. “You are not my boss, Hawthorne. If anything, I own you.”

  Nikolai’s words echo in my head. Keep him in line. I’m going to do just that.

  He wets his lips. “Do you now?” His gaze travels the length of me, lighting my skin on fire. “I might be okay with that.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Now—”

  “My goodness, I had no idea you were here!” a middle-aged, mousy-looking woman says as she rushes into the room. Her cheeks are flushed and a light sheen of sweat lines her upper lip as if she’s been running around for a while. She makes quick work of pulling back her frizzy brown hair and smiles at Jackson. “I apologize, Mr. Hawthorne. I was upstairs preparing Miss Young’s room and didn’t hear the door.”

  “It’s not a problem, Gloria,” Jackson tells her with a charming smile. “I was happy to greet our new houseguest.”

  She wipes her hands on her apron and smiles at me, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Can I show you to your room, Miss Young?”

  I nod, grateful for the interruption. “That would be great. And please, call me Kelsey.”

  Gloria heads out of the kitchen, and I go to follow her. But when I step forward, Jackson shifts in front of me to block my exit.

  I suck in a breath, surprised he used the ability in such close proximity to his human employee even though she wasn’t close enough to see him do it. He made it look effortless.

  As if it was as easy as taking a step to close the distance between us.

  Maybe it was. Maybe for most fae who actually use the abilities they have, it’s just that easy. I, on the other hand, try my best not to use them—especially shifting. Even during my early days of training, I hated it. The movement leaves my body tingling as if a strong current of electricity has just run through me. I shiver at the thought and force myself to meet Jackson’s gaze. It’s not difficult to do with him standing so close.

  “For the record, my bed is the comfiest in the house,” he says in a low voice so Gloria doesn’t overhear.

  I speak in a normal voice; I don’t care who hears. “For the record, let me be very clear with you, Mr. Hawthorne. I will never spend a night in your bed. We clear?”

  The corner of his mouth lifts like I’ve just offered him a challenge. Fuck.

  I shake my head and walk away before he can say something that’ll make me do something I’ll get in trouble for—like punch him in the face.

  Skylar better get here soon, or there may not be a need for my services.

  Chapter 4

  Gloria leads me upstairs to the end of a long hallway with several closed doors. She lists off what each room is, but I’m not really listening. My mind is still reeling at the audacity of the man-child we left downstairs.

  She stops at the last door on the left. “This will be your room,” she announces, opening the door. “As you see, it’s fully furnished. We can have anything else you need delivered.”

  I step into the room and my eyes go wide. It’s less of a bedroom and more of a suite.

  There’s a four-poster queen-size bed that’s calling my name—small tables on each side—with navy silk sheets and a mountain of pillows. On the opposite wa
ll, there are two sets of double doors, and in between them, a vanity with a large mirror.

  “The door to the right is the en-suite bathroom, and to the left is a closet,” she says.

  I bite my tongue before I can swear in front of this kind woman. “That’s great,” I say instead, walking farther into the room.

  I trail my fingers along the back of the couch facing a flat-screen television mounted to the wall. “This place is kind of insane,” I murmur.

  Gloria offers a polite smile. “Mr. Hawthorne wanted you to be comfortable.”

  Yeah, I bet he did.

  “I’ll let you get settled,” she says. “Please let me know if you need anything.”

  I could get used to this. I won’t, but I easily could.

  I turn to her and offer a smile. “Thank you very much, Gloria.” I have no problem showing her kindness. It’s not her fault I’m stuck here for the next three months.

  She nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind her and leaving me to settle in.

  An hour later, I’ve brought my things inside, hung my clothes in the walk-in closet, and organized my toiletries in the bathroom crafted for royalty.

  I shoot Skylar a text to find out where the hell she is, and she calls me a few minutes later.

  “Hey,” I say, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

  “Ready to murder him yet?” Amusement laces her tone, and I momentarily hate her for leaving this position to me.

  “Just about,” I mutter.

  She laughs. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “Right. That’s if I don’t kill him first.”

  “Right,” she echoes. “I was going to stop by in a bit, but something came up.”

  My stomach drops. “Sky,” I groan.

  “I know. I’m sorry. Take the afternoon and read Jackson’s file. Everything we have on him is in there, and everything you’ll need to know to protect him.”

  “So, I guess I can’t just bundle him up in bubble wrap and shove him in a closet?”

  Skylar snorts. “Yeah, unfortunately not.”

  I sigh and say, “All right. I’ll take a look.”

  “Fair warning, it’s a lot.”

  “Great,” I deadpan. “Can’t wait.”

  Now it’s her turn to sigh. “I know. We knew making that deal with Jackson was going to come with risks, but it was the only choice we had at the time.”

  “No, I know. How much does he know?”

  “Just what he needs to. He understands there are risks to the operation he’s running. He knows there are people who don’t agree with him offering fae the chance to transition to human life and want to put a stop to it. He’s heard some threats here and there, but from what I can tell, he isn’t aware of the severity of them.”

  “Hmm. Okay.”

  Skylar continues, “We have a security team set up around the perimeter of the house. You likely won’t see them—which is the goal. There’s a team stationed at the facility as well.”

  “If he’s got security at home and work, why exactly am I here?”

  “Because Nikolai is an idiot,” she says. “He wanted a personal detail for Jax. He figures it’s safer that way. On the off chance someone manages to get past the security team, you’re an added level of protection.”

  “I’m a babysitter,” I tell her.

  “For lack of a better word, yes.”

  “This is a lifetime-type job, Sky. As long as he’s running this business, he’ll need protection. I didn’t sign on for an eternity of Jackson Hawthorne.”

  “We know that. This is a temporary fix, Kels. I promise, we’re working to figure out something more permanent.”

  The tightness in my chest eases some, but not completely. I’m still stuck here for now.

  “I should go check on things,” I say reluctantly.

  “Sounds good. Listen, I’m heading out of town tonight, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out to Nikolai, okay?”

  “Got it. Thanks, Sky.” I end the call and drop my head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling and letting loose a colorful string of curses in my head.

  Reaching over, I grab Jackson’s file from the coffee table in front of the couch and flip it open. Skylar kept daily entries about everything that happened during her time guarding Jax, which helps to give me an idea of what I’m in for. A lot of it seems rather boring—accompanying him to work, watching the daily practices of the facility, and making sure he’s safe anytime he’s outside the house. My brows knit when I get to the end of the entries and none of them note any sort of social life. It doesn’t make sense for someone as charming and outgoing as Jackson not to have friends. Though given his profession, perhaps it doesn’t leave much time and energy to entertain people.

  I pull myself off the couch before I can allow the pang of sadness in my chest to blossom, then freshen up in the bathroom before heading back to the main floor. I’ve only been here once before, back when I met Jackson, so I don’t really know where I’m going. I figure there’s no harm in checking out the place considering I’ll be living here for a while. I should get to know Jackson’s home like the back of my hand to ensure I can do my job effectively, and—

  “Looking for me?”

  I spin around at the sound of his voice. “Look at that,” I say. “You found a shirt.” It’s a nice white collared shirt. He also swapped his sweatpants for black slacks.

  “It’s a shame, I know.”

  “For women everywhere,” I remark sarcastically.

  “She’s funny,” he observes. “Good to know.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, tousling it into a mess of waves. “I’m not going to the facility today, so you’re free to do whatever around here.”

  Basically, whenever Jackson is here, I’m not on active duty. There are enough members of his security team around the premises that the odds of an attack are low enough that I don’t have to be on alert. However, the moment he leaves the house, whether it’s to work at the facility or go anywhere else, I have to be at his side.

  “Great,” I say.

  “We should probably get to know each other if we’re going to be spending all this time together.”

  “How do you suggest we do that? Twenty questions?”

  He whistles. “Easy, Red. I’m trying to work with you here.”

  I sigh. “Okay. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

  With a grin, he starts walking toward another room. “Follow me. This conversation needs coffee.”

  Finally, something we can agree on.

  Jackson has Gloria bring us a French press with cream and sugar on the side and we sit on the enclosed balcony of the second level. The sun is shining, the sky is clear without a cloud in sight, and there’s nothing but thick, deep green pine trees as far as the eye can see. Under other circumstances, being here would be a peaceful reprieve from the chaotic city life I’d grown accustomed to.

  Jackson pours coffee into one of the mugs and holds it out to me. “Cream or sugar?”

  I shake my head, taking the mug. “Thank you.”

  He nods and pours himself one, dropping in a few spoonfuls of sugar. “I know what you’re thinking. What’s with all the sugar? He’s already sweet enough.”

  I roll my eyes, taking a sip of my coffee. Jackson is insufferably arrogant, but what makes it worse is his naturally welcoming personality. It’s easy to laugh at what he says, and if I had to bet, he very well knows it.

  “So, tell me. How’d you get roped into this gig? You pick the short straw?”

  “I’m good at what I do,” I tell him.

  “Guarding celebrities?” he says with a wink.

  “Yes, exactly,” I respond dryly. “No. I used to work for Tristan Westbrook when he was the dark fae leader. And, as you know, I worked with Nikolai and Skylar to take down The Experiment.”

  “Ah, yes. Good times.”

  Right. Maybe for him. He bailed when it came time to actually fight, leaving the rest of
us to risk our lives for the entire fae race. I don’t want to be resentful, but he’s very clearly reaping the benefits of the takedown every day the facility rakes in more cash.

  “What do you do in your spare time?” he inquires.

  “What spare time? We just ended a battle. Spare time has been non-existent for over a year, Jackson.”

  “Well, that’s a damn shame. What would you like to do with your spare time? Granted you had some.”

  I press my lips together, allowing myself a minute to think about it. I’m not sure opening up to Jackson is a good idea. This is a temporary assignment, and him knowing things about me won’t help me do my job. After a few beats of silence, I finally resolve to tell him, “I like interior design. Not sure that’s what you mean, though.” Watching HGTV was a nightly routine in my last foster home, and since then, I’ve tried desperately to hold on to the happiness of those memories as opposed to the horror that followed.

  He shrugs. “Sure, if that’s what you like.”

  I nod. “Did you design this place?”

  His lips twitch. “I did, actually. Are you impressed?”

  “Hmm, it’s a little over the top for my tastes, but the elegance is certainly there.”

  He laughs, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  “One thing I can promise is that I’ll always give it to you straight.”

  “Huh. Then I suppose I’ll have to do the same for you.”

  “Do what you want, Jackson,” I tell him lightly. “I’m just letting you know, you’ll always know where you stand with me.”

  “How am I doing so far?”

  When I blink at him, he laughs again.

  “Got it.” He takes a long drink of his coffee then sets down the empty mug. “You may not like me now, but I guarantee by the end of our time together, you’ll be head over heels.”

  I almost choke on my coffee. “What?” I croak. There’s no way he just said that. On my first day here.

  He smirks. “You heard me, Red.”

  Dear lord, he did. I attempt to mask my shock by muttering, “I think that caffeine went straight to your brain.”