Warrior Fae Trapped: A DDVN Book

by Breene, K. F.

  “I know. You’re incredibly loud when you toss and turn. Are you going to work or what? I’d like to go back to sleep.”

  “Then go. I’ll find my way there. Why’d you get up if you’re just going to go back to bed?”

  “Coffee. I planned on staying up, but I’m still exhausted. Quit asking questions and figure yourself out.”

  She slapped the soft, luxurious down comforter. “Go away.” She thumped her head back into the pillow. Awkwardness could definitely wait.

  His dark chuckling trailed him out of the room. “If you’re going, hurry up. There’re no buses this far. I have to drive you.”

  Charity lay still for a moment. She did really hate that admin job. She’d lied to Roger when she said they let her do her schoolwork. She was kept busy enough to be marginally useful and bored at the same time. It also paid minimum wage in a place where the cost of living was high, which was the pits.

  She rolled out of bed and stood with all the energy of a zombie that had been blasted in the chest with a shotgun. Wait…were there zombies?

  Trudging out, she heard the TV blaring in the front room.

  Devon sat on the leather couch with his feet propped on the coffee table next to a steaming cup of coffee. He flicked his phone with his right thumb while pointing the remote at the TV with his left hand.

  “Multitasking, huh?” she asked, flopping down in a recliner at the far end of the room.

  He didn’t answer.

  “So…how often do you work?” Charity asked.

  “Until the job’s done.”

  “But you have time for school?”

  “Yes. So does Andy, who isn’t nearly as smart as you.” He dropped his phone, changed a channel randomly, and focused on her. His eyes were intense and businesslike. “Roger makes sure we balance school and our duty. It’s in the pack’s best interest for us to graduate. It’ll provide the organization as a whole with great skills and connections within the Brink. Sometimes it can be…stressful, but it’s still doable.”

  “What’s the pay scale like?”

  “It depends on rank and involvement. Since you’re…an exceptional case, I’m not sure. What’re you making now?”

  “Minimum wage, fifteen hours a week.”

  Devon’s jaw dropped at the same time as the remote. “And you wonder why you don’t have any money. Why didn’t you get a real job?”

  Charity could feel her body stiffening defensively. “I don’t have any prior experience. Or interview clothes.”

  “Hell, a fast food chain would’ve paid better. Anyway, you’ll make a lot more than that, I can assure you. With insurance.”

  “Which I’ll probably need.”

  Devon leveled his gaze on her. “I would like to say you won’t, and that I will make sure you’re safe, but in our life, there are no guarantees.”

  Charity waved him away. She’d never had any guarantees.

  She chewed her lip—she did really hate that admin job. And being poor. She hated being broke all the time.

  What was a little danger, really? She’d be with a pack of wolves, not alone like last time. She’d have experienced people to help her. Besides, if those creatures were still looking for her, she’d be sucked back into this mess anyway. She might as well get paid for it. And with a trial period, like Devon said, she could get out of it if she wanted to.

  Why is this decision so easy to make? That can’t bode well. Nothing in my life comes easily.

  “Do you have a house phone?” she asked, not wanting to think any more on the subject. She’d just talk herself out of it.

  Confusion crossed his face. “Why would I need a house phone?”

  “To make calls, genius.”

  He held up his cell phone. “That’s what this is for, genius.”

  “Fine. Can I use it?”

  His stupid jaw dropped again. “You don’t have a cell phone?”

  “You know, this is why hanging out with rich people is actually kind of nice. They think everyone who isn’t a millionaire is poor. So when they treat me with astonished pity because I don’t have an electronic gadget, it’s a standard affair. But no, I don’t have a cell phone, because I hilariously decided eating and dressing myself was more appropriate. My bad.”

  “Jesus, how do you stay upright with that giant chip on your shoulder?”

  Charity thrust out her hand. “Can I use your damn phone?”

  “Ever heard of pay as you go?” He tossed his phone at her.

  “Ever heard of shut up?”

  “You owe me dinner, too, remember.” He aggressively raised the remote at the TV, smirking. “I assume that means you’re calling in sick? Or quitting?”

  She turned away from him and stared at the picturesque screen of the phone. Tiny squares dotted the image of a cresting wave. While she’d seen an ad or two for these phones, and spied kids in her classes going to town on them, she’d never actually used one. It wasn’t as intuitive as she’d heard others claim.

  Devon pushed off the couch and headed toward the kitchen. As he passed, he veered in close and tapped a square with a white telephone on a green background.

  Oh yeah. Good clue as to which button she was supposed to tap.

  “I would say don’t quit your day job, but I don’t think that would help,” Devon said smugly as he moved out of the room.

  “Oh, shut it,” she muttered.

  When she called in sick for the day, she also gave her two weeks, and was told that they didn’t really need her to come in anymore. Apparently, the job was only in existence to help kids in need.

  She didn’t like the feeling that gave her, though she couldn’t exactly say why.

  She headed back to her room and bed, stopping in the kitchen to return Devon’s phone. When she didn’t find him, she glanced in the other rooms, coming up empty until she returned to his bedroom. He lay in the middle of a sea of rumpled, pure white covers. His discarded boxers had been thrown onto the floor.

  “You always sleep naked, huh? Or is this about to be a rejected invitation?” Charity asked with a grin. The room smelled of musty boy. Not unpleasant, but he could stand to open a window. To that end, she did it for him, letting in a soft but sweet-smelling breeze.

  “Ah yes, Andy hinted that you found power in playing impossible-to-get. The guy asked you out, and you didn’t even remember him. Don’t worry, I like my women pleasant. You don’t fit the bill, Chastity.”

  Crap! That was why Andy was so familiar. Even with the reminder, though, she only vaguely remembered the dinner invitation. Sam had scoffed at the whole scene and pulled her away quickly. Andy had seemed tickled, she remembered, and hadn’t pressed. He’d never approached again, nor had he shot her scowls like other guys she’d rebuffed (she had nothing to wear on a date and didn’t need the distraction anyway—something men didn’t seem to understand or accept).

  She placed his phone on the nightstand, and then lingered. “Listen…” She cleared her throat. “Thanks for last night, by the way. I was… I just…”

  “Stop talking. I’m trying to sleep.”

  She huffed her annoyance, though she didn’t really feel it. Biting her lip, she nodded into the silence. He wasn’t going to let her admit out loud that she’d been afraid. It was appreciated.

  “Meeting is at eight o’clock tonight,” Devon mumbled with his eyes closed. “Wear something nice. Oh, that’s right, you don’t have anything.”

  She picked up one of his shoes and threw it at his head. She shut the door as he yelled, “Ow!”

  Sometimes, violence was extremely gratifying.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You’re up,” Devon said as he strolled into the kitchen.

  Charity looked up from her red wine reduction sauce.

  He sauntered over, rolling up the sleeves on a snug white button-up that hugged his well-defined chest and popping biceps. The bottom was tucked into a pair of Euro-style trousers, hugging his trim waist and accenting his muscular thighs.
He’d gelled his hair into that bad-boy, styled-yet-messy look, and the hint of sideburns set off his strong jaw. The way he carried himself bespoke money and prestige. His cultivated demeanor overlaid that raw physical power. Power that didn’t flirt with the fire in her middle now as much as it had in that strange other world.

  She said as much.

  “The Realm is magical, and so it brings out your magic,” he said, stopping next to her. “It heightens it. When you’re fully into your magic, it’ll probably still be easier to use in the Realm, but you’ll feel it just as strongly in both places.”

  She nodded, although it would take a while to get used to talking of magic, she had no doubt.

  “You hungry?” she asked, returning to her sauce.

  He leaned on the counter, assessing her with a heavy stare. His eyes roved over her, taking in her stained hoodie before drifting down her unfashionably ripped jeans. Just like when he’d stared at her before the party, she felt completely exposed. Laid bare, like he had ripped away all her defenses and could see the girl underneath. The vulnerable, sometimes scared girl who needed a warm body to lie next to when things got out of hand.

  Face heating in embarrassment—he’d spotted the holes in her sneakers—she concentrated on stirring the sauce and fervently hoped he’d go away.

  “Where’d you get all this food?” he asked.

  No such luck on him buggering off, then.

  “Brought most of it,” she said, “but found some of it in the cabinets. The wine is old, but I can compensate for that. I threw away half the stuff you had in your fridge. Not that there was much to begin with. It looked like a petri dish in there.”

  Still he stared. Was he hoping for a magic trick or something?

  “Look, if I’d known you wanted a staring contest, I would’ve brushed my teeth,” she groused.

  “Looks like you’re making a gourmet meal.” His gaze roamed her ingredients. “How’d you learn to cook like this off food stamps?”

  She gritted her teeth at his suspicious tone, feeling that fire she’d thought had dulled kindle in her middle. Apparently, it had been waiting for him to get on her nerves.

  She tried to keep the aggression and defensiveness out of her voice. It was his house and she was a guest—she’d best remember that or she’d get kicked out on her butt.

  “I had to get creative. When you have three ingredients, most of which have passed their expiration date, you need an imagination.”

  He leaned more heavily on the counter, now able to peer directly at her face. “I can tell when you evade questions because you’re uncomfortable. What’s the real reason?”

  “Know me that well already, do you?”

  “You’re not that hard to read, Charity. Why?”

  “Why is this a big deal?” She sighed like a teenager who’d been told to clean her room. “I imagined I was in a top restaurant in New York, okay? I’d retreat into my head, envisioning myself somewhere else, in someone else’s life, and make a dish out of whatever was lying around. As I got older, it became my happy place. We were poor, yes, but if I could help it, I didn’t eat that way. Happy now?”

  He grunted, apparently satisfied. “Make some for me. I’m starving.”

  As he moved away, he adjusted his shirt and smoothed his pants, surely trying to perfect his already immaculate appearance.

  “Oh hey”—she snapped her fingers—“I forgot to tell you. I put your runway out back. It was getting in the way. You’ll have to practice your Zoolander poses out there.”

  He stopped smoothing his pants. A slight red hue colored his cheeks. “Cute,” he said with a scowl. He strode toward the front room.

  Smirking, she went back to her task. She couldn’t beat ’em, or join ’em, but she could surely make fun of ’em!

  A half-hour later, she feigned nonchalance as she placed his plate on the coffee table in front of him. The ingredients were simple, but she’d made sure the taste and presentation were elevated. Given all she’d done wrong since she’d met him, she wanted to impress him with one thing she could do right.

  Without saying a word, she retreated to the recliner in the corner, desperately trying not to be obvious as she peeked at his face. She’d cooked for Samantha a time or two, and that had gone over well, but Devon was so exacting that she was afraid he’d pick out each flaw.

  He lowered his phone to the side and studied the contents of the plate. “Where’s the meat?”

  So then, more of a broad strokes kind of guy when it came to food.

  She huffed out a laugh and settled down with her meal.

  “I didn’t have any. A portabella is similar, though. Kinda.”

  He scowled before sawing into the mushroom, his movements coarse and unrefined compared with her former roommate’s. It meant, unlike Samantha, he hadn’t spent his life in fine restaurants across the country.

  A stress knot eased out of Charity’s shoulders.

  Devon popped the bite into his mouth as he surveyed the TV. His head jerked down to his plate. “Mmmm.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “Jesus, Chastity, this is good. I had no idea vegetables could taste this good. Weird.”

  Apparently that nickname would stick. Great.

  Except she found she really didn’t mind all that much. A smile wrestled with her lips as a thread of pride wormed through her.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Come in,” Devon shouted, back to bending over his plate.

  Andy sauntered into the room with wild, windswept hair, a T-shirt with little holes running along the seams on his shoulders, and the smell of the sea.

  He plopped down on the couch opposite Devon, the closest seat to her. “Charity, my Charity, how goes it?”

  “Hi, Andy. Hey, I didn’t mention the other day, but I recognize you from—”

  “Whatcha eatin’?” His head swiveled to Devon and then back to her. “Did you cook?” He leaned closer. “Did you make any for me?”

  “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realize I should’ve.” She also didn’t have enough money to feed other people.

  As if hearing her thoughts, Devon said, “I haven’t gone shopping yet. She whipped this up from what she brought over last night. Get something frozen or order pizza.” His voice dropped an octave. “And give her a little room to eat.”

  “She’s got room.” Andy barely leaned away. “I’m sick of pizza and frozen food. It’s all I ever eat anymore.”

  “Not my problem.” Devon scraped his plate and then licked the prongs of his fork.

  Definitely not the refinement of Samantha or her friends. It was refreshing.

  Another knock. At Devon’s call, in walked the guy named Rod, a giant with hulking shoulders and surprisingly graceful footsteps. His dark eyes flashed around the room, touching each person before settling on Charity’s plate. “What’s that?”

  “Dude. She cooks. Looks good, too.” Andy’s gaze followed the fork up to Charity’s mouth.

  “Did you make any for me?” Rod asked, bending to get a better look.

  “This is getting awkward,” Charity mumbled.

  Dillon and Macy filed in next, fingers entwined. Macy beamed at Charity. “Hi! You decided to join us, huh? I could use another girl.”

  Andy leaned toward Charity again. It didn’t seem like he could help himself. “Bite?” He opened his mouth like a little baby bird.

  “Back off, Andy,” Devon growled.

  “You’d think I had drugs or something.” She handed her loaded fork to Andy, who bit it so eagerly that he almost dented the metal.

  “Oh my God,” Andy said, falling back against the back of the couch. “Charity!”

  “Why? What?” Rod took a step closer. “Is it good? Is it that good?”

  “It’s ah-mazing. A-may-zing!” Andy’s eyes rolled back in his head, and Charity let her smile blossom at his antics. She supplied Rod with a bite.

  “Good God, woman.” Rod shook his head at her. “You’re a rock star. I mean, my dad is a p
retty good cook, but he ain’t got nothing on you.”

  “All your dad knows how to do is grill,” Andy said. “She’d whoop his ass.”

  “I just said she was better, didn’t I?” Rod replied angrily.

  “You said she was better—you didn’t say she’d stomp on him, slap his ass, and call him Susan.”

  “All right, all right, let her finish her food,” Devon said, and a burst of power rolled through the air.

  Like leaves stirring on the forest floor, Charity felt her magic respond to his. Heat pulsed in her middle, and she quickly finished off the rest of her plate so she could escape into the kitchen.

  Macy grabbed Devon’s plate. “I’ll help.”

  “Since when do you clean up?” Rod asked skeptically.

  “Since I want to get away from your ugly mug.”

  He snorted. “I feel sorry for Dillon, having to deal with you.”

  “You shouldn’t. At least he gets laid.”

  Rod nodded and shrugged at the same time. Point to Macy.

  “How goes it?” Macy asked Charity a moment later. The plate clinked against the countertop next to the sink. “Did it go okay with Roger? He was acting kinda strange…”

  “Oh, good. So he normally isn’t that intense?” Charity rinsed her plate and tucked it into the empty dishwasher.

  “No, he isn’t normally that calm. I heard he smiled.”

  Charity rinsed the other plate. “If that was nice Roger, I do not want to see mean Roger.”

  “Like I told Andy, it’s best to steer clear. Let Devon be the middleman on that one. He’s able. I am not.”

  Charity smirked. She filled a glass with water and drank it as the doorbell rang.

  “That must be the new wolf,” Macy said, waiting for Charity to finish. “Jimmy got reassigned. I heard what he did to you. That must’ve freaked you out.”

  Charity sniffed. “It sure wasn’t what I was expecting, I’ll say that much.”

  Macy took a few steps with her back to the front room. “Well, don’t worry about it. He got reassigned. This is a new girl. Thank God! Seriously. Being the only girl with a bunch of stinky, rude guys is the—”