Catnip & Curses (The Faerie Files Book 2)

by Emigh Cannaday

  “Yeah . . . this brand’s not going to work for me,” I said, taking out my dick. Elena’s green eyes widened as she put two and two together.

  Dick big.

  Condom small.

  “I mean, I can try.” I took the condom out of the wrapper and began to put it on, but it was only to humor her. I know, I know, these things can fit on a person’s arm, or over a head, yada yada. But dicks don’t have bones in them so small condoms end up cutting off the blood circulation, and that’s what makes guys hard to begin with. I had this sad little condom about halfway on and I was already starting to go soft.

  I had to get inside of her fast . . . which was also a problem. I couldn’t just ram this thing into her. I needed to take my time. Time that I didn’t have.

  “This isn’t going to work, Elena,” I said, pulling the condom off. It only took a few seconds for my dick to get hard again. She started to pout. I knew why. She wanted the D and she couldn’t have it. Elena wasn’t a big fan of being told, “No.”

  “Do you think you can pull out in time?” she asked while crawling up to me. She took me into her soft hand and started to stroke, getting precum all over her palm before sliding it up and down my shaft.

  “I know I can.”

  She gave a flirty little smile and looked up into my eyes. Then she pulled my pants down my hips, maneuvered me to sit on the edge of the bed, and straddled my lap. The sound of her deep breaths filled my ears while she worked in the tip, and then another inch, and then another. My fingers caught her zipper and teased it down her backbone before I lifted the dress off of her. I held her close and kissed her again, grinning when she groaned into my mouth. The bumpy little wing spurs felt good under my hands. I remembered that they were the only reminder that fairies like her used to have wings. The spurs made her self-conscious, but I loved the way they felt—like a row of knuckles running along each shoulder blade. Mostly I loved that I was the only one who’d seen them.

  I kissed her again, fucking her harder, then bowed my head to suck on each breast and give them both a little nip. I wanted her to use me however she wanted, and that’s exactly what she did. I watched as she kept twisting and grinding her body against mine, her eyes closing in pleasure when she took a deep breath and came right on my cock. My arms curled around her, holding her sweet, soft body in place so I could fuck her harder and faster.

  “Let me know when you’re close,” she panted.

  “I’m really fucking close!”

  Without any warning, she climbed off my lap. I thought this was some screwed up fairy game she was playing, trying to tease the shit out of me and send me back to my room with blue balls. But then she knelt between my knees and proceeded to give me one of the best blowjobs I’ve ever had. Wet and sloppy, jerking me with one hand and massaging my balls with the other. And her mouth—holy fuck, she was sucking like she couldn’t wait to get a hot load in her mouth. Maybe she expected it to taste like Fanta.

  I wrapped my hand around the back of her head, unable to stop myself from groaning.

  “You’re gonna make me come. Is that what you want?”

  “Mmm hmm . . . ”

  Of course she was talking with her mouth full. That was her MO.

  I closed my eyes and let go, giving her everything I had. It felt like the rush from an ice cream headache and a rollercoaster mixed with whatever MDMA must feel like. My breath caught in my throat as I briefly forgot we were supposed to stay quiet. Pulses of pleasure kept shooting out of my cock and into her mouth, where her tongue licked and stroked and devoured me like frosting on a cupcake.

  I fell back onto the bed, completely spent.

  “Holy fuck, Elena! Did that just happen?”

  “Mmm hmm . . . ”

  When I opened my eyes, she was wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, watching me with a strange expression. She seemed content . . . but bewildered.

  “Elena? Are you okay?”

  “I just had two mind-blowing orgasms. I’m more than okay,” she said with a little smirk. “I just can’t help thinking that maybe there’s something legit behind those weird dreams you’ve been having.”

  “The dream where I’m a baby?”

  “Yeah.”

  Silence.

  Fine. I’ll admit it. Man brains immediately after sex are functioning at about ten percent capacity. So yeah . . . I completely shut down when she started talking about babies right after having unprotected sex.

  I was so lost in thought about this, that I barely realized my phone was ringing until I heard it vibrate for the third time from the pocket of my pants, which were still around my ankles. I sat up and stooped down to get it.

  “What the hell?”

  I saw a cell phone number flash up on the screen I didn't recognize. It was a DC area code.

  “Who's calling me at this time of night?”

  “Harris?” suggested Elena.

  “Nah, it's not his number.”

  “Better answer,” she said while pulling her dress back on. “Nobody calls at this time of night unless it’s important.”

  Her words rang in my ears as I slid my thumb across the screen to answer the call. She was right, good news never came after midnight.

  “Hello?” I answered, a slight sense of nervousness tugging at my voice.

  “Hello, is that Logan Hawthorne?”

  “It is. Who’s speaking?”

  “This is Ellen. Ellen Phan?”

  She spoke like I was supposed to immediately know who she was, but I was pretty sure I’d never heard of her.

  “I’m your dad’s next door neighbor,” she clarified. “I met you at his barbecue last summer. I made the bánh xoai that everyone loved.”

  “The what?”

  “The sweet mango cakes. You must’ve eaten at least half a dozen of them. Does that help?”

  “Oh! Yeah, I remember now. Those little cakes you made were amazing!”

  “Thanks, hon. So . . . the reason I’m calling is . . . ”

  I didn’t have time to convey my confusion as to why she was calling me at such a strange hour. Before I could say another word, she began to cry.

  “It’s your dad,” she said. “He’s at the hospital.”

  “He is? What happened?”

  Instantly, I felt an iron grip wrap itself around my chest. From the tension in her voice and the sound of her crying, I knew whatever she said next would be awful.

  “He had a heart attack,” she said. “I was putting my trash out a little while ago and . . . ”

  She sniffed and swallowed down her tears. Even though she was in DC and I was in Arizona, it felt wrong to keep standing there with my pants around my ankles. Turning away from Elena, I tucked my phone between my chin and my shoulder to pull up my pants.

  “He was in his driveway,” Ellen told me. “Just lying there. I don’t know how long he’d been there, Logan, but I called an ambulance right away.”

  I hesitated halfway through sliding my belt through the buckle. It took me a full five seconds to process what I’d just heard.

  “Is he going to be okay? What are the doctors saying?”

  “I don’t know what’s happening,” she said. “I rode along in the ambulance, but they wheeled him into the emergency room and I’ve been waiting for news ever since. I guess they’re still working on him.”

  That didn’t sound good. I knew what ‘working on him meant.’ It meant defibrillators and chest compressions . . . anything to save his life. My knees began to weaken and I sat down at the desk by the door where I’d left my gun. I barely noticed the piles of candy wrappers strewn across the wood surface.

  “I’ll try and get back there as fast as I can, but I’m in Arizona right now. It’s going to take some time.”

  “I’ll keep you posted,” Ellen assured me. “I’ll stay here until he wakes up.”

  “Thanks, Ellen.” I took a deep breath and scrubbed my hand down my face. “Shit, I can’t believe this. I just talked to him a
few days ago and he was fine.”

  “I’m just as shocked as you are. He’s fit as a fiddle. Well, I better go and see if I can get some more info from the doctors.”

  “Okay. Call me back as soon as you know what’s happening. I don’t care what time it is.”

  I hung up, my words feeling hollow. What did that mean? Call me back when you know what’s happening? It was the kind of thing I said to Allan at the office when I was waiting on updates to a spreadsheet. You didn’t say that when you were waiting to hear if your dad was going to live or die.

  Or maybe it was. I’d never been in this situation before.

  I tried to think rationally . . . positively. People had heart attacks all the time and survived. Modern medicine was a miracle and doctors were experts. They’d save his life and then turn around and do it again for someone else. But as much as I tried to focus on that, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I might never speak to him again.

  He’s dying, I thought as I kept staring at the candy wrappers and empty cans of Fanta on Elena’s desk. He’s dying and I can’t be with him because I’m in Arizona, and instead of working on my case, I’ve been too busy trying to nail my partner.

  12

  Elena

  “Logan? What’s wrong?” I asked, walking up to my partner. His elbows were on my desk, his hands propping up his weary head. I rested a hand on his bare shoulder. The skin was flawless and smooth, rippling over the hard muscles underneath it. Under any other circumstances I would’ve kissed his bare skin and coaxed him into going another round in the sack, but I knew he’d just had some bad news.

  “My dad had a heart attack,” he said. “His neighbor found him lying on the ground when she went to take out the trash.”

  He clenched his jaw, his eyelids fluttering as he fought back tears.

  “Oh no! That’s terrible!” I gave his head a comforting caress, smoothing his rumpled hair. “Will he be okay?”

  “I’m waiting to find out,” he said, and stood abruptly to retrieve his shirt off the floor near the foot of my bed. “There’s nothing I can do right now,” he said, tucking in his shirt. “Not out here anyway. All I can do is focus on the task at hand. We’ve got a poltergeist case to solve and a department to save.”

  “I can handle it by myself,” I said. “You can fly home first thing tomorrow if you want to. I can handle the case on my own. I’ve been dealing with this shit a lot longer than—”

  My phone started to buzz nonstop in my purse. And since my entire life revolved around my job, it could only be one of a select few people.

  “This is Rivera,” I said after digging my phone out of my bag.

  “Hey, Elena. We’ve had some paranormal activity down here at the station,” Alvarez replied. “Your buddies aren’t handling it too well. Thought you might want to come down and see for yourself.”

  “Got it. I’ll be right there.”

  “You didn’t have to come along,” I said as Logan pulled the Tahoe into the police station’s parking lot.

  “I already told you . . . the next flight to DC doesn’t leave for at least another twelve hours. I might as well try to save our jobs while I’m here. No reason to keep fucking around.”

  He turned off the ignition and stepped out. I’d thrown a t-shirt over my dress and my jacket over that . . . trying to look halfway respectable. It might’ve helped if I’d put on a clean shirt . . . but something Logan said stopped me from worrying about my outfit.

  “What do you mean, ‘no reason to keep fucking around? We’re doing more work than those other two assholes. We’re the ones who found out the history behind the disappearing handcuffs and the map of Clyde’s grave. And don’t forget we learned all about the journals that Li Mei kept. Nobody else knew she was pregnant when she robbed the bank. But it makes so much sense—how else could she get enough money to escape to San Francisco?”

  No reply. That just pissed me off even more.

  “And so what if we went out to dinner and had a good time? We weren’t supposed to come back here til dawn. Whatever we do off the clock is our fucking business. We’re adults.”

  “What happened back at the hotel . . . ” he said, ignoring me, clenching his jaw. “It can’t happen again.”

  I knew he was probably just upset about his dad and scrambling for something within his ability to control, but that didn’t make his words hurt any less.

  I’d wanted him since our first assignment, when we were holed up in a treehouse together in a little town in Tennessee. It was like summer camp with my arrogant, hot-as-hell partner for a camp counselor. It was the first time I’d ever let anyone touch my wing spurs. It was the first time I’d accidentally flashed my boobs at a coworker. Logan was so clean-cut and so proper that I wanted nothing more than to defile him. It had taken me eight long months, but I’d finally discovered the formula. He wanted a lady on the street and a freak in the bed.

  I had some homework to do.

  Or . . . maybe not, if he was serious about it just being a one-time impromptu fuckfest. I tried not to dwell on the fact that I’d never come so hard or so fast—and twice, no less!—with anyone else before. Logan made me crazy . . . yeah, the arrogance was equally annoying and a turn on, but his very essence made me feel like I couldn’t get enough. The way he looked . . . the way he smelled . . . the way he tasted . . .

  It was unreal.

  I mean, totally, completely unreal. Sex with him wasn’t like sleeping with anyone else. I’d only slept with humans . . . until now.

  There was only one explanation for why he’d utterly blown my mind: Logan was fae.

  And not just any fae. He was one of those naturally conceited, dickhead, moody-as-fuck, high-born elves. I was starting to seriously consider that he might in fact be related to the Marquess and Marchioness of Tierstand. I knew it was awful to be mad at him when his dad was in the hospital, but this didn’t seem like the right response.

  “You want tonight to be a one-off? Fine,” I said coolly while stepping out of the car. “We’ll do whatever you want.”

  Alvarez met us at the foot of the front steps with an awkward, almost guilty expression.

  “Thanks for getting here so fast.”

  “It’s all good,” I said, trying to act breezy. “We were just typing up our daily reports.” The police chief’s eyes flicked down to my hot pink heels, then back to my lying face. He knew it didn’t add up, and he was smart enough not to ask about my shitty math.

  Good.

  “There’s no sugarcoating it,” he said, and escorted me and Logan up the stairs and into the station. “Your guy Johnson’s completely lost his shit.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, right around the time he was accusing me of being a fraud who’s wasting the taxpayer’s dollars, those damn handcuffs showed up again in our evidence locker.”

  “The ones we hand-delivered to Jillian this morning?” I asked, feeling only half-surprised. Alvarez held back a grin, trying his best to remain professional.

  “Yup. Since you and your partner had returned the handcuffs and weren’t around, Johnson assumed you were pulling a fast one on him, trying to prove your point about the poltergeist. He swore he heard a noise coming from the old stairwell and went to investigate . . . and ran right into Clyde.”

  “That would explain the screaming,” I said, hearing the unmistakable sound of shrieks and howls coming from the break room. “Is that Carl or Katrina?”

  “It’s Carl Johnson,” Alvarez replied as the sound got louder. “Kozlov’s handling the encounter better that I thought she would, but I called in some backup for Johnson. I’ve got a nurse friend on her way over.”

  “Why didn’t you call an ambulance?” Logan asked.

  “Because I’ve seen this before—lots of times,” Alvarez replied. “That’s what happens when you’re surrounded by criminals and curses. One of the night shift guys is really religious, and he had the same exact reaction. And there’ve been at least half a
dozen inmates who’ve had the shit scared out of them and reacted the same way. Some folks can’t handle it when their world gets rocked a little too hard, you know?”

  “Oh yeah,” I said, nodding my head in agreement. “I know exactly what you mean. They’re basically having to question their entire belief system all at once.”

  “Exactly,” Alvarez said. “I’d rather avoid putting your guy in the hospital. If he goes in there screaming about ghosts at the police station it'll make the story even bigger than it already is. And the last thing we need is for what's going on here to get more publicity.”

  Logan, Alvarez and I stepped into the break room to find Agent Johnson lying on one of the couches, curled up in the fetal position. His voice was so loud and piercing he sounded more like a baby bird than a full-grown man. He covered his eyes with his arms and cowered on the couch, shaking so much I wondered for a second if he was having a seizure.

  The truth was simple: the bigger the skeptic, the harder they fell. And this motherfucker trying to get the OCD shut down couldn’t have fallen any harder. He’d been thoroughly traumatized by a poltergeist.

  Good.

  "Oh, Carl, it’s all over now!” cried Kozlov, who seemed to have moved beyond how scared shitless she was. She was crouched at her partner's side in a futile attempt to bring him out of his stupor. "Carl, talk to me!”

  But all he could do was scream and shake.

  "Carl!"

  “Holy shit,” Logan groaned under his breath beside me. "I've seen people survive car crashes who look less shaken up than Johnson.”

  "Well, I think it's safe to say he's a believer now," said Alvarez, standing nearby while wincing at the shrieks. "But now I'm starting to wish he wasn’t.”

  Agent Kozlov looked ready to start pulling her hair out at any second, so I seized the moment to pull her away from her partner’s side.

  “Hey Katrina—is it okay if I call you Katrina?” I asked while I led her to the opposite corner of the break room. “Can you tell me what happened? Did you actually see Clyde?”