He ripped her hand away. “What’s the problem?”
“What am I going to do with all that money, Devon?” She almost shouted it. Magic oozed from her, something that usually happened when they fought, but more potent.
His wolf soaked it up, loving her unspoken challenge. His desire to subdue her almost had him stepping forward.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Buy things?”
“Like what? This is way too much money. I can’t accept this.”
Devon rolled his eyes. “Can you hear yourself? Just get some cash. I’m not in the mood.”
“You’re not in the mood? For what, me talking to you?”
Her magic prickled his skin. Fire burned in her eyes.
Feeding off it, he leaned into her, invading her space with his size. Pulling alpha rank. “You are freaking out over nothing. Everyone gets that starting bonus, because by the time a shifter answers the summons and arrives at the castle, they’re broke. Yes, many have family backing, but once you’re in the pack, you need to stand on your own two feet. Just take it and shut up.”
Her eyes flashed. Her jaw set.
But instead of exploding, she seemed to…relax. If not for the burning rage smoldering her gaze, he would’ve thought she’d backed down.
Shivers started at the base of his balls, usually a sign of imminent danger. The strange smell of her ancestry, spicy sweet, flared. Magic boiled from her, stronger than ever before.
What the hell is happening?
“Is that how you talk to people where you come from?” she asked in a quiet voice. His small hairs stood on end. “Where was that, again? Oh, that’s right. Upper-middle-class suburbia. Do rich people not teach respect?”
“Where I came from has nothing to do with anything. What’s your problem?”
“I’ll tell you what my problem is, Devon. You. That’s my problem. You prance around with your big house and your nice car and your big paycheck, acting like you came from nothing. Like you’re some bad-boy thug with your ripped jeans and the ever-present chip on your shoulder. Well, I came from nothing. Yet I have the decency to be nice to people. And your commitment issues? You’re just a spoiled little brat who wants to screw every skirt in sight. All guys your age do. But do they? No, because most of them would feel bad if they screwed a girl over to satisfy a craving. You have no morals. No respect for others. You’re a scared little poser who’s put out because you’re being forced to spend time with your latest conquest.”
She turned to the ATM, her anger seething around her body like a halo. Magic rolled off her, crackling. Maybe he should have set her straight, told her how he’d really felt this morning—how he felt now—but her magic prodded at his wolf while her words made fury pump into his body.
“You know what?” he spat. “You’re the scared one, Miss High and Mighty. That’s the real problem. Now you have money. You’re not poor anymore. You can buy new clothes. And that terrifies you, because now you won’t be able to blame all your problems on coming from nothing. Everything you’ve always identified with is being torn away. That’s what terrifies you about that number in your bank account. And keep me out of it. I’ve never lied about what I’m after with women. I don’t lead anyone on. You jumped me last night, not the other way around. I wasn’t preying on—”
He cut off suddenly when her eyes flashed blue, like an overexposed picture. It wasn’t a human eye color.
Before he could ask about it, she said, very softly, “If I were you, I would leave now.”
Fear wormed through his anger. For the first time in his life, he experienced the flight side of a fight-or-flight response. Her magic was messing with her. Seeping out of her. She was absurdly powerful, and the wild side of him was proud that she’d managed to scare him.
Still, he did step away. He didn’t want to get blasted across the sidewalk.
That possibility brought out a bravado he didn’t feel and quickly regretted. “I’ll be down the street taking care of some things. We’ll meet up in a few hours. I’ll text you. Why don’t you take all your riches and fix yourself up?”
She sucked in a breath, and then her face took on a frightening mask of rage.
Oops.
She cocked her head to the side, her eyes flashing chalk-blue again. Prickles spread across his skin, like he was being jabbed with a thousand little needles. Magic gushed from her in a flood, the air around her crackling with it.
Before he could apologize, she took her cash, nodded, turned, and strode away.
He let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
That hadn’t gone well. He’d been a dick—she should’ve thrown a punch, or tried to kick him in the balls. He deserved it.
But he would not initiate that fight. Instead, he stalked off down the street in the other direction, unnerved by the leap in her magic and disgusted with himself. He dug out his phone, scratched off a clump of dirt from where he’d dropped it last night, and called Roger again. Things were changing with her, fast, and the elder’s interest would only increase. They needed to get moving.
Chapter Forty
Still angry, but also a little humbled, Charity raised her chin as she strolled down the street. She hated to admit it, but Devon had been right about a lot of things. Her mother would have killed to have so much money. Charity could get a whole new wardrobe. She could eat out and shop at the grocery store without keeping a mental tally of the total.
It was freeing…but it also meant that if the kids at school still scoffed at her, it was because of her personality, not because of an upbringing she couldn’t control. If she wasn’t liked, it would be because she wasn’t likable. It was irritating that in such a short time, Devon had come to know her so well.
He was also right about everything that had gone down between them, the jerk. He had been crystal clear in his stance on dating. She’d known exactly where she stood going in, and she’d been okay with that in the moment.
It wasn’t exactly that she had regrets, because she didn’t. She’d cherished every second of last night. She just wished it was only about sex for her, as it so clearly was for him.
Well, you live, you learn, Charity.
A few hours later, Charity had a few bags and was riddled with fatigue. While her shopping efforts had been fruitful, she was really tired of looking at herself in the mirror. Trying on clothes was never fun.
Not having heard from Devon, she found herself wandering down the street, looking in shop windows. She should call him, but the stubborn part of her wasn’t going to chase after him like some lovesick puppy.
She glanced into a picture shop selling artistic photographs, art, and frames. The picture of her mother flashed through her mind. If there was one thing Charity wanted that money could buy, besides information on her mother’s whereabouts, it was a frame for her mom’s picture.
She hesitated in the doorway, looking in, and caught sight of a beautiful blonde standing close to a familiar man.
Heartbeat increasing with each moment, she stepped into the shop, her bags crinkling in her tightening fists. Devon’s face pointed down at Yasmine, his body mere inches away from hers. Yasmine laughed and reached forward to play with a button between the swell of Devon’s pecs.
A yawning cavern opened up inside Charity, the same sensation she’d experienced earlier with Devon. Molten lava bubbled out of it and filled her entire body to bursting. Electricity rolled and surged, straining within the confines of her skin. Sparks flew off her arms and even her fingers like a cloud of glitter. The desperate need for violence took over her being, urging her to find a sword so she could cut off Yasmine’s head in the fastest, most gruesome way possible. Her body brimmed with it, a surging power that threatened to tear loose and bring this whole building to the ground.
Devon and Yasmine startled before looking up with wide eyes.
Logic screamed for Charity to calm down, but her fingers itched for the knife at her belt.
So this
is what jealousy feels like. Like teetering on the precipice of a huge killing spree. I need to apologize to Macy.
“Charity, good, I was just about to text you,” Devon said, turning toward her.
Too late, Mr. Smooth Operator.
“Time to go,” Charity said in a flat tone. Yasmine’s stupid gloating face was not helping. Charity wished she could cut that face off and wear it like a mask, Hannibal-style.
“Yes,” Devon said, his eyes bearing into her.
“We’re going to your house tonight, right, Devon?” Yasmine asked in that dumb, silky voice. She gave him a knowing look.
Charity stepped forward before she could stop herself, her fingers at her belt line.
Cutting out Yasmine’s vocal cords was not the right way to handle this situation. She had to calm down!
“Yes,” Devon answered, green mist curling out from around him. His wolf was scrabbling to get out; Charity could feel it. She would rock its world when it did. “Roger is planning a large-scale extraction tomorrow, so we’ll all stay at my place tonight. Everyone is heading over in an hour. Charity and I are going to go home and start dinner.” Devon stepped beside Charity and reached out to put his hand on the small of her back, probably to guide her out.
“Touching me would be a mistake right now,” Charity said in a sweet voice she didn’t recognize.
“Are you okay?” he asked, following behind her as she exited the shop.
“I’m great. How about you? Can’t be easy to manage all your conquests.”
“Charity,” he said as he opened the door of the beat-up SUV for her. “She found me in there. She was trying the flirty game, yes, but I wasn’t buying. In another moment she would’ve gotten the message without my having to officially call her down. She’s pack—there is a certain way we do things to keep squabbles to a minimum.”
“Great, fine. No biggie.”
“Can we talk about this?”
It sounded like that request was about as appealing to him as eating a large, juicy grub. His reluctant tone only made her madder.
“Nothing to talk about. You’re a free agent, she’s crazy pretty, and I am amaze-ballz. We’re all set.”
“Charity—” He clenched and unclenched his jaw, then repeated the pattern with his fists on the steering wheel, trying to control his anger. The rest of the ride was tense and quiet. When they got to the house, they saw that the area beside the door was already boarded up. Sarge’s remains had been collected before they’d left the house, but the scene of the attack had also been cleaned up. No blood stained the driveway. She only hoped Devon’s bedroom had been thoroughly cleaned up as well.
They walked into the house silently, each depositing their bags in their separate rooms—Devon’s door had been fixed, but she didn’t dare go in to make sure Samantha’s remains had been taken away.
“What do you want for dinner?” Charity asked Devon when they met in the kitchen.
“Are you serious? You’re not going to say anything about this? I can see that you’re mad, Charity. Talk to me.”
At the risk of potentially freaking out, and trying to kill him with her bare hands? She was a little unhinged at the moment, so the best thing for everyone was for her to feign calm and relaxed. She had no idea what this strange feeling was that kept surging out of her depths, but it was alive and wild. Best contained until she knew what to do with it.
“I’m fine. Let’s just make dinner. Actually, I could probably go faster if you went in and watched sports. Or porn. You know, whatever you lady-killers enjoy.” She snapped her mouth shut. That response had gotten away from her a little at the end.
Devon made a masculine sound like a growl but didn’t say anything, his handsome face shut down in frustration.
He really was a gorgeous devil. With intelligence, wit, and brilliant prospects. And he was gentle, loyal, and steadfast, too. The woman who finally landed him would be lucky.
Those thoughts weren’t helping her get over him any more than her snide remarks were.
She turned to the counter. Her itching palms would have to settle for kitchen knives too dull to be plunged into the resident hot man’s chest.
A while later, as the shadows were starting to lengthen across the yard, Andy strolled into the kitchen and flopped down into one of the chairs. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
“Roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and vegetables.” Charity peeked into the oven to check on it.
“Eww, vegetables.”
“They’re good for you.”
“I know, I was kidding. I actually like vegetables. Where’s our fearless alpha?”
“Wasn’t he in the living room?” Charity glanced out through the archway of the kitchen, not able to see into the living room from that angle, but giving it a try anyway.
“No.” Andy scrutinized her. “What’s up with you? You in a bad mood?”
Charity shook her head as Devon sauntered in from the direction of his bedroom. He had on his loose sweats, his face grim and determined. When he saw Andy, he said, “Roger set the extraction time for tomorrow, noon. The vampires have a good-sized host of demons watching the portals on the Brink side. We’ll probably have to cut through them.”
Charity felt her eyebrows crawl to her hairline. Demons?
Andy drummed the table, looking unconcerned. “How many are we going up against?”
Devon shook his head as he gave Charity a long, searching look. He lowered into a chair. “Roger isn’t sure. Vlad has a lot of resources.”
“What about Vlad?” Dillon asked as he entered the kitchen. Macy followed closely behind.
“What’s up?” Rod asked, following the others in like a linebacker, all shoulder and muscle. “Oh man, it smells good in here.”
“We’re smuggling Chastity out tomorrow,” Andy said with a grin at Charity.
Her stomach tightened up. Not able to help herself, she glanced at Devon. Who was glaring at Andy.
“What? Is that not funny anymore?” Andy put his hands in the air. “I’m always the last one to know things.”
Rod looked back and forth between a silent Charity and the brooding alpha. His gaze fell to the ground when Yasmine walked in. Her blonde hair was done in loose curls, falling to her mid-back. She’d put on light makeup and wore yoga clothes, perfectly outlining that excellent physique.
The scorching look Yasmine gave Devon fired up Charity’s craving to kill something.
“Right, I’m going to go…change,” Charity said. She needed a long, hot bath and a new place to live.
“You’re coming back, right?” Rod whined. “When can we take out the meat?”
“Running away?” Devon asked in a light, unaffected voice, cutting past all her defenses and stabbing her heart.
“I’m not running anywhere,” Charity said in a cool tone. “I’m simply going to put on some of the new clothes I bought. You know, to fix myself up. Isn’t that what you said? Obviously, I look like a dump and you’re offended to have me in your sight.”
He straightened. “That’s not what I meant.” His tone was angry. As usual.
“Isn’t it? Then, pray tell, what does ‘take some of that money and fix yourself up’ mean to an intelligent jackass such as yourself?”
“Yikes,” Dillon said, shrinking against the far wall. He had a girlfriend, so he was schooled in what not to say.
“That’s one way to make enemies, I suppose,” Andy murmured.
“Don’t you dare talk to the alpha like that,” Yasmine said, and crossed her arms over her chest.
Charity’s red-hot gaze swung that way, her logic on hiatus. “Who’s going to stop me? You? Let me guess, you’re going to shoot lasers out of your mostly exposed tits.”
Yasmine’s face turned red. Macy’s jaw dropped open.
“That would be so sweet,” Andy said. “I’d be down for a set of those.”
“Enough, all of you,” Devon barked. The wolves cowered, the ruthless power and comm
and in Devon’s voice enough to remind them of their rank.
Charity waved him away. “You’re not my alpha. Stick it up your ass.”
She started to walk from the room, but Devon grabbed her arm and swung her back around.
“You need to relax,” he said. “You are freaking out over nothing.”
Dillon covered his face with his hand. Macy gasped.
Way to work a girl up rather than calm her down.
That yawning chasm inside Charity spilled out more lava. The world went hazy for a moment before it solidified in crystal clarity. Anger and rage seethed inside her, fueled by embarrassment and hurt from the foolish things he kept saying.
Uncertainty and vulnerability curdled into something unspeakably volatile. The strange hum in her body exploded.
She connected a punch to his solar plexus. Surprise spread over his face as he was blasted backward. Clearly he hadn’t seen that coming.
That made two of them.
But whatever she’d tapped into felt great. It was a high unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Wild and unruly, her hands shot out faster than lightning, connecting blows that would cripple a human.
He wasn’t human.
He blocked a kick and then a punch, apparently unsure whether he should engage.
“Fight back, bro, she’s on fire,” Andy yelled.
Devon blocked another punch but didn’t realize it was a decoy, and got a kick to the thigh. He stumbled backward, out of the kitchen and into the sitting room. The failing light from the sliding glass door framed him. And then he took Andy’s advice.
He hammered two fists at her midsection, aiming for areas that wouldn’t leave lasting damage. He was faster than fast, almost on par with the mid-level vamps. On some level she knew that, yet it seemed like normal speed to her now.
She swiped a strike out of the way, grabbed his wrist, and yanked. His fall forward turned into a large step. She hammered a punch into his kidney. The wind exited his lungs, but he was already moving. He grabbed her and threw, and she went airborne across the room.
Warrior Fae Trapped: A DDVN Book Page 27