Warrior Fae Trapped: A DDVN Book

by Breene, K. F.

  “Charity!” Samantha whispered. “You need to drink or you’ll look ridiculous.”

  “Nice attempt at peer pressure, Sam, but I will look ridiculous regardless. How is an expensive glass going to help?” She took the goblet anyway. As soon as possible, she’d pour out the contents and refill it with water. It would be the fastest way to keep Sam off her back.

  “So this is cool, right?” Samantha asked, stepping away from the others to put herself on display. Two of the pretty lurkers zeroed in on her. “Kind of a small, elite group. I haven’t seen most of these people before—they’re hot, though. Speaking of hot…”

  Charity followed her gaze across the huge space. A guy with a half-filled goblet stood near the sliding glass door. His powder-blue shirt, collar popped, went perfectly with his Euro-style jeans. His runners were bright red to match his watch.

  Her heart clattered around in her ribs.

  Donnie!

  His gaze was attached to the ruby-red, pouty lips belonging to a beautiful dirty-blonde woman.

  “Hmmm, this is good!” Sam whispered in rapture, looking down at her drink.

  Charity glanced down at her own beverage, finding an ice cube swimming tranquilly within the pink punch. Ignoring it, she said, “Doesn’t everyone here seem almost…too attractive? Like, all of their skin is…pore-less.”

  “Too attractive?” Samantha scoffed before taking a huge, and not very ladylike, gulp of her drink. She dabbed the moisture off her lips with a dainty finger. “Are you serious right now? As if there is such a thing. No flaws are good, Charity. Probably plastic surgery.”

  Charity opened her mouth to argue. Closed it. Donnie was on the move! He threw a shrug at the incredible beauty and then exited through the sliding glass door.

  Immediately, Charity’s brain buzzed with three excuses to leave Sam and follow him. Granted, a sprained ankle didn’t make much sense, but that was the beauty of being the token poor girl—Sam assumed all poor people were crazy.

  She opened her mouth to excuse herself when she heard, “Hello.”

  A man whose approach she’d neither seen nor heard stood mere inches from her side. She flinched, startled. Liquid sloshed out of her goblet and over her wrist. Drops plunked onto the floor as her eyes rounded and her jaw went slack.

  The man was, quite possibly, the most handsome guy she’d ever seen in her life. Literally, her entire life. High cheekbones and a straight nose adorned a gut-clenchingly beautiful face with noble features straight out of a storybook. Shapely lips pulled up into a heart-throbbing smile below velvety brown, sparkling eyes that surveyed her in rapture. It was as though she were the only thing that existed on this plane, and nothing would tear his attention away. Charisma oozed from him in heady waves, deliciously sexy and sinfully suggestive. Her body tightened up and a burst of sweat drenched her armpits.

  Clearly she was not as sexy as this man. Why was he talking to her?

  “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance,” he said in a musical though somehow still unbelievably sultry voice.

  Her lady parts burst into flame. His proximity seared her body, begging her to step closer. To touch him. To let him touch her, intimately. A desperate need to be alone with this man overwhelmed her. She wanted his body pressed up against hers, skin on skin. Him inside her, thrusting.

  Chapter Six

  “I… I…” she heard herself say, a world away.

  “I… I…” she tried again, somehow not able to form any sort of coherent thought.

  “Maybe you would like some more punch? I see you have spilled yours. Such a travesty. Here, let me assist you, if I may…” His voice set her heart to hammering. Warning tingles spread across her skin, like fire ants biting down. The contrast didn’t make sense. The way he’d singled her out didn’t make sense.

  She fell into his entrancing stare as the crystal goblet disappeared from her hand. Her arm dropped, suddenly bereft of strength, to hang limp at her side. His sweltering gaze left hers as he walked toward the island and punch bowl, unnaturally slow.

  “Maybe just one,” she murmured, fighting the impulse to hurry after him. She didn’t want to let him get too far away. She needed to be with him in a way she’d never needed anything in her life.

  She watched in ravenous fascination as his muscular arm, sleek and delicious, spooned some punch into her glass. He turned toward her, a smile flirting with his mouth-watering lips, so extremely kissable and inviting.

  Suddenly he was right next to her, as though time had skipped a beat. As though he’d teleported.

  She shook her groggy head, dizzied with lust. “How did…?” Her words drifted away as the goblet was gently placed into her hand. Such a gentleman, this man. Such a handsome, suave gentlemen.

  They don’t make them like this anymore.

  Numb fingers wrapped around the chilled crystal. A stranger’s fingers. Rough and clumsy compared with that delicate touch wrapped around her wrist, sending waves of sensation through her body.

  “Drink—it is delicious,” he said.

  “What’s in it?” she asked, looking down at the liquid, suddenly parched.

  His laugh melted her panties. “Why, unicorn blood, of course.”

  She chuckled at his joke, contemplating alcohol for the first time in her life. Really contemplating it. What harm would one drink do? He’d gone to the trouble of getting it for her, after all.

  The itch across her skin grew stronger, turning violent. A strange, musky smell tickled her nose, somehow detracting from the beauty of the man. Pricks of pain spread out from where his hand touched her skin—a sharp contrast to the raging lust. A warning pulsed in her brain, combating the searing heat of his proximity.

  “Drink,” he whispered, his breath rustling her hair.

  She groaned, needing his touch. The pain intensified, begging her to step away. Her hand rose to her mouth, in someone else’s control.

  “But I don’t…” The goblet brushed her lips. Her gaze dipped down, to the pink liquid inching up the crystal interior. Memories of Walt, the man she refused to call her father, flashed through her mind. Fear somersaulted her stomach.

  She took a step back and forced the goblet away.

  She didn’t drink. That wasn’t about to change because of a pretty creep with a penchant for peer-pressuring strangers.

  “Where are you going?” he asked. “I wish to get more closely acquainted. I am in rapture. You are exquisite.”

  She ripped her gaze away from his mouth. A blast of cold air assaulted her, hitting the sheen of sweat coating her body and flash-freezing her. Logic rushed in and stole her breath. It was as if she’d awoken from a weird haze. She couldn’t remember the stolen minutes properly, but she did know one thing: she’d wanted to have sex with a complete stranger. Really nasty sex. The kind you didn’t tell people about.

  Acting on the siren blaring at the back of her head, she about-faced without a word and haphazardly stalked across the room and out through the sliding glass door. She’d always been a little antisocial, but…well, that guy was weird. Her reaction to him was weird.

  And what was he, thirty? What was he doing messing around with an almost twenty-year-old?

  She dumped the contents of her goblet on the grass outside. “I’ve been to some parties with pushers, but that guy was ridiculous.”

  “What’s that?”

  Charity froze. Donnie!

  He lounged against the wall looking all hot and trendy. Butterflies filled her stomach.

  “Oh. Nothing.” Charity pushed her hair away from her face. “Hi.”

  “Hey,” he replied, and glanced off toward the yard, where the still waters of a large pool glowed from within. He could play cool in his sleep.

  Charity nodded with her whole body like the dweeb Sam called her and tried to tuck a thumb through a belt loop. Her hand went skittering off her hip.

  She didn’t have a belt loop.

  Grabbing for something, anything to tal
k about, she said, “So pretty, ah, good party, right? Nice house.”

  Donnie shrugged, watching a woman peel off her clothes and jump into the pool. His words were drowned out by the splash and ensuing shriek of laughter. Her friend stood watching her, clearly on the fence about joining. The alcohol was working harder on one than the other.

  “Sorry, what was that?” Charity asked, stepping closer.

  He turned his slightly-less-handsome-than-usual face toward her—attractive men were ruined for the moment in the face of Mr. Holy Crap He’s Creepy But Hawt. Donnie’s gaze took her in. “You clean up well.”

  “Oh, um…” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She’d take that backhanded compliment, no problem. Hell, she’d frame it if she could. “Thanks.”

  He nonchalantly returned to scanning the backyard.

  “So, uh…you got an invite, too, huh?”

  One of Donnie’s shoulders jerked up in a lopsided shrug. “I go to a lot of these things.”

  “Right, yeah. No big deal.” She shrugged too, then grimaced at herself.

  “Who’d you come with?”

  “Sam. Samantha.” Charity stepped even closer, desperately trying to emulate Sam’s gracefulness. “You know Samantha Kent? I came with her. Earlier. She drove.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “Yeah. Right.” Charity clenched her jaw, then her whole body, to stop herself from saying or doing anything else embarrassing.

  They both looked out at the pool, where the woman floated lazily in the middle, beckoning to an intense-looking, pretty man now standing at the edge. His fashionable clothes were firmly in place—it didn’t seem like he was keen on the idea of swimming. The skinny dipper’s friend stood close by his side, clearly happy with the decision she’d made.

  “So…” Charity racked her brain for more conversation. Now that she could speak intelligibly around him, it struck her that she wasn’t sure what to say. He only talked a lot around other guys, and that was usually about sports. Charity knew next to nothing on that topic. “How long do you think you’re going to stay?”

  “I dunno. All right, I’ll see you in a while.” He turned to her for a moment, showering her with his full attention. He smiled and squeezed her upper arm. “Find me later.”

  Fireworks went off in her middle. She wrestled to control an elated smile dripping with doe-eyed devotion.

  “Sure, yeah,” she said, trying to play it cool and refrain from squealing. “No problem.”

  He pushed off the wall and sauntered back toward the house, draining the remnants of his glass and probably going for more. Charity checked her wrist, remembered she wasn’t wearing a watch, and debated.

  She couldn’t very well go back inside right now because Donnie would think she was following him. Too clingy. But the only other person she knew at the party was Sam, who was also inside.

  Charity took a few steps and glanced through the sliding glass door. Donnie stood at the counter, refilling his cup, as she’d suspected, surrounded by a few drinkers with serene expressions. The gorgeous models had drifted closer to the punch bowl, two of them clearly having worked up the courage and presence of mind to chat. No Sam.

  That made things easy. Charity could kill some time by looking for Sam. Then she could force Sam to wander close to Donnie and hopefully go for Awkward Talk round two.

  Decision made, Charity began to turn when the dark-haired man from earlier turned to look at her. Deep eyes shocked into her, devouring. Her skin tingled furiously as warmth spread through her middle. Thoughts of sticky sex and panting breath filled her mind.

  She yanked her gaze away. “What is up with that guy?” she murmured, painfully aroused and a little freaked out by it. She didn’t understand the effect he had on her, nor did she understand the full-body itch warning her away from him.

  Breathing heavily, she stumbled away. Was a quiet night of studying too much to ask?

  She passed the pool and curved toward the front yard. A side door caught her attention, however, and she let herself in, figuring she’d give the greeter a break. She wandered through a stale room with no obvious personal effects, equipped with its own bathroom and sitting room. A guest suite larger than her house growing up. She shook her head as she surveyed the enormous TV mounted on the wall near the open door.

  Lo and behold, Sam’s voice floated in on the scented air from the hallway!

  “—I don’t know,” she was saying.

  Charity ambled closer—the high heels were completely useless for walking. She heard another woman say, “I definitely think you have a shot with Donnie.”

  Charity slowed.

  “I’ll put in a good word for you,” the stranger said. “I know him really well.”

  “Are you sure about Devon, though?” Sam asked. “I’d much rather go for him.”

  “He’s not even coming,” the other girl said. “He wasn’t invited.”

  “Are you sure? I saw him down the road.”

  “You did?” Silence filled a pause before someone tsked. “I don’t know. But regardless, I wouldn’t bother with Devon. I’ve never seen someone successfully land him. As soon as he bangs a girl, he completely loses interest. He’s notorious for it. I definitely think Donnie’s your best bet.”

  A sigh wafted in to Charity, who was currently holding her breath, waiting for the verdict.

  “Okay, then. Talk to Donnie for me. But, like, don’t make me sound eager or anything. Just, like, see if he’s interested or whatever. Totally back off if he’s not, you know?”

  “Obviously, yeah. Maybe see if he’s into something casual at first…”

  “And, you know, if he wants to…hook up tonight or whatever, I’d be down for that.” Sam paused for a minute, giving Charity time to wonder if her heart was trying to break her ribs. “Or do you think that’s too slutty?”

  “No, definitely not. That’s the way you kinda have to play it with people like Donnie. You’ve got a lot of competition, you know? Make sure he knows you’re for real and not some tease.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. But…don’t mention it to anyone, all right? Let’s keep it quiet. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or anything…”

  The other girl snorted. “Yeah, right! Hurt feelings? Everyone will be jealous!”

  “I know, but…still,” Samantha said, tempering her snobby voice. She used that voice when she was uncomfortable but didn’t want to show it.

  “I mean, sure. Whatever,” the other girl acquiesced.

  “Cool.”

  “Cool.”

  “I gotta pee,” Samantha announced.

  “Yeah, me too. I’ll go with.”

  As the footsteps receded, Charity exhaled and fell back against the wall. Disappointment tugged at her. In reality, she knew she didn’t have a shot in hell with Donnie. She’d always known that. Sure, maybe she could bang him, like Sam was thinking, but that wasn’t her style. She wasn’t into casual flings. But man, it sucked that Sam was blasé about going for him, knowing Charity was seriously crushing on him. Sam wouldn’t even stick with him, either. She’d get tired of him in a couple of weeks, and that would be the end of it. Meanwhile, Charity would have to hear them having sex through the thin walls.

  She blew out a breath, sinking into her sadness. She wanted to stamp her foot and yell about life being unfair. To throw a tantrum and maybe go give Sam a piece of her mind. But what would that solve? The world worked how the world worked—there was no point in getting all twisted up about the inevitable. A lot of things in her life had been unfair. A girl had to celebrate her wins instead of dwell on her losses. Maybe she wouldn’t get the guy she liked; so what? She was working her way through school in a great city, and she was at a party so elite they had a guard dressed in leather watching for crashers. She had it pretty good.

  As far as Donnie went? Let Sam try to make conversation with him. She’d pull her hair out.

  Smirking, Charity headed out and down the hall with a painf
ul shamble. Her mind drifted to other matters, like why would someone pay four hundred dollars to be this uncomfortable? Was a severed toe fashionable? Because Charity saw no other use for the heels.

  Wincing, she turned left at the end of the hall and found herself in the foyer. Relieved to recognize her surroundings, and even more so to discover the greeter was gone, she hobbled out into the evening air. Sam had been right about the punch. It didn’t seem dangerous. Everyone but her was guzzling it, and only the skinny dipper was acting on the crazy side of drunk. She’d give Sam a couple of hours to mack on her eye candy before she wandered back in to check on her.

  A horrible thought struck her—Sam was drinking, and this place was a cab driver’s nightmare. Charity didn’t know how to drive very well, and Sam wouldn’t risk her Porsche.

  Did her roommate plan to spend the night?

  Dread rolled over Charity. It wouldn’t be a big deal to spend a few hours here, but all night? Anything could happen during the vulnerabilities of sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  Charity slowly blinked her eyes open. A sea of shimmering dots swam within the black sky overhead. The tops of trees peered down at her, still in the calm night.

  It took her a moment to orient herself. The last thing she remembered was staring up at the stars, tracing the constellations with her eyes. It was a slow, boring business, tracing constellations. After about the fifth time, she’d switched to thinking about schoolwork, which was probably about the time she’d fallen asleep.

  She rubbed her eyes and pushed up to sitting. Moisture clung to her legs and nestled in the grass around her. Silence had settled on the property, broken occasionally by a night bird calling out. A glance up at the large house twenty yards away and she realized with a start that all the windows were blackened or dimmed, upstairs and down.

  How long had she been asleep? When she’d first lain here, an occasional shout floating across the backyard, most of the downstairs windows were blaring with light, and two bedrooms upstairs glowed, too. By the look of it, the party had shut down and everyone had retired