Agent of Enchantment (Dark Fae FBI Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

  “I need your help to rescue a friend,” he said. “I’ve known her since childhood. I owe my life to her.”

  “A debt, huh?”

  “It’s not like that. It’s not about the debt.”

  I believed him. “So why is she in prison?”

  “She shouldn’t be imprisoned.”

  “Uh-huh.” I frowned skeptically. They always said that. “What is the crime she’s incarcerated for?”

  “Treason,” he said simply. “I suppose she is guilty, if hating one’s king is a crime. There are tyrants among the fae, just like in your own world. Only here, justice is blinder and swifter. She’ll be executed soon.”

  I mulled over this as we walked through a thick grove, a chill wind breathing down our necks.

  Even taken at face value, what Roan was asking me to do was to break this place’s laws, helping a criminal escape incarceration. Since I was a federal agent, this sounded like a politically problematic action. Of course, I didn’t know much about the current political relationship between the United States and the fae realm. There probably weren’t any extradition treaties.

  I also had no way of knowing if Roan was telling the truth. Was setting one woman free all that he wanted to do? Was she really guilty of nothing more than hating the king? It didn’t seem likely. Surely they wouldn’t have had concrete evidence unless she’d been caught plotting.

  “I’m not sure I believe your story,” I ventured. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to free a criminal.” If she’d been labeled a traitor, I could end up imprisoned right along with her. And from what I knew, the punishments for treason were among the worst ever devised.

  He paused, his eyes rooting me in place. “Then you can get back to London by yourself, and I don’t imagine you’ll make the journey.”

  Okay. He had some serious leverage. I had no idea how to get back to London. “If I help you, can you guarantee you’ll help me safely return to London?”

  His lip curled. “You’re not in a position to make demands.”

  “If you can’t give me that simple promise, I’d prefer to risk going on my own. If you think I trust you, think again. Maybe the authorities here would be interested in knowing you’re trying to free a traitor. Maybe they’d be grateful enough to help me get back to London.”

  “A little pixie like you? They’d have you locked up and used for amusement.”

  “Promise me.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Fine. I promise.”

  “I need you to say it. Do you promise that all you want me to do is free this woman, and once we do that, you’ll help me get back to London?”

  “Yes, woman. As long as you stop your stomach from rumbling.” His tone was pure ice, and the venom in his voice slid through my bones. “Once we get her out, I promise to help you get back to London. Are you quite satisfied?”

  I nodded and began walking again. “Roan?”

  He grunted.

  “Why do fae call pixies three-born? And Lilive?”

  “Because Adam had a wife before Eve,” Roan said. He was no longer looking at me, simply marching ahead. “His first wife was Lilith.”

  “Right. And she wasn’t into the missionary position.” I knew this story from the old myths. Lilith liked to be on top, and that meant she was evil and demonic, because of the patriarchy. “And Adam hated that, because he was insecure about his knob size.”

  “Apparently you know this story already.”

  “Then Eve was created, and she was awfully fond of long, phallic snakes. I wonder what she was missing in her life.”

  Roan kept marching just in front of me, so I couldn’t tell if he cracked a smile. “Adam and Eve are the ancestors of the human race. Adam and Lilith are the ancestors of the fae race. And pixies—”

  “Have three ancestors. Hence three-born. And Lilive. And fortal… I’m guessing that’s fae and mortal.”

  “I see you don’t need any more information from me. You have all the answers. Perhaps we could return to silence.”

  Oh, no. We were not done with this interrogation. I was gaining valuable intel, and also, this line of inquiry kept me from thinking about the frostbite forming on my toes. “But what is it with fae and pixies? Why are the fae so drawn to me?”

  Thunder rumbled overhead, and a hard, icy rain began to fall. This just keeps getting better.

  A sigh slid from him, and still he marched ahead. “All fae, including pixies, can feed off human emotions. Lust, happiness, excitement… it energizes us. It makes us stronger, healthier.”

  “You called me a terror leech,” I pointed out. At the thought, dread bloomed in my chest. If I’d been feeling stronger, I would have found a way to push the thought from my mind. But there it was, a terrible thought echoing through the hollows of my mind—that I fed off fear like a monster.

  “Some fae have an affinity for a certain emotion,” Roan continued. “And since you like to spend time around murder scenes, I would guess you like fear.”

  “Oh, that is horse shit,” I snapped, a little too vehemently. “I think you’re projecting. Let’s not forget the time you spent around the crime scenes.” I was absolutely not going to tell him about my old “trauma junkie” nickname. I didn’t want to entertain this idea at all.

  “Whatever you say.”

  Slowly, the rising sun began to stain the sky a pale periwinkle, streaked with honey. So it was morning again. When was the last time I’d eaten? As soon as the thought crossed my mind, my stomach rumbled.

  At the sound, Roan turned to me, glaring. “You’re hungry now, too. Your frailty knows no bounds.”

  “You seem annoyed that I have a human body.” I reached into my bag, pulling out a half-empty container of mint Tic Tacs to shake into my hand.

  “I don’t like the sound of your hunger,” he muttered, walking on. “You need to eat, and you need to get warm. Which means you need to move faster.”

  The rain pounded harder, soaking my hair and seeping through the cloak. Roan seemed completely unbothered by the icy storm.

  “How many fae feed off fear? If it gives someone power, it seems like the perfect motive for a murder.”

  “More than I’d like. And as a pixie, you feed on your own fear. How often have you placed yourself in a dangerous situation, only to feel fear? You court danger to feed off your own feelings. That’s the pixie side of you.” He was walking ahead of me, not looking at me now.

  “That’s not true.” Icy numbness spread through my body, chilling me to the bone. Was it the cold, or was it what Roan was telling me?

  “Isn’t it? Walking through an alley in the middle of the night, knowing that a serial killer is slaughtering women? Following a perfect stranger by yourself, without any backup? Is that the behavior of a trained agent, or a danger addict?”

  The wintery rain hammered my skin, and I focused on taking one step at a time. As we walked through the storm, the dirt road became a muddy trail, and my delicate ballet flats sunk in a deep puddle. I nearly fell. I tried to answer Roan, but I was shivering too hard, couldn’t respond. Couldn’t walk anymore. My muscles were seizing up with fatigue and cold.

  I just needed to lie down and sleep.

  If I could rest for a few moments by one of these trees… Once I let my body rest, I’d get up and keep walking.

  My hands sank into the icy mud.

  “What are you doing?” He sounded far away. I curled into a ball, closing my eyes, drifting away.

  “Gods damn it!” someone said from a distance. I felt a strong pair of arms lifting me, cradling me, and then the subtle rhythm of movement. With my eyes half shut, I leaned against his body, trying to rest. I couldn’t remember what I’d been doing, only that it had been a long day.

  “Stay awake for just a few more minutes,” he whispered.

  He clearly had no idea how tired I was. I would just rest for a moment, maybe two, and then we’d keep going to… wherever we were going. I wasn’t entirely sure anymore.

  I
heard a creak, then a slam. He took a few more steps, his footsteps sounding strange, echoing loudly. I realized that the rain had stopped just before I sank into a deep slumber.

  And when I slept, I dreamt of my mother’s voice, screaming. Horace! Don’t!

  I’m not sure how long I was out before I felt a light brush against my cheek, and a thrilling rush of electricity.

  “Hey,” a deep voice whispered. “Wake up.”

  I curled tighter into a ball, just wanting to sleep.

  The brush had become a soft caress, so lovely I almost wanted to purr.

  “Cassandra.” The voice softened. “Wake up.”

  My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself shivering. A strange tapping noise echoed through my skull. My teeth, I realized, chattering like crazy. Something warmed me, but I was certain it couldn’t penetrate the ice in my blood.

  I lay in a small room, a fireplace crackling at my side. Roan was leaning above me, his breath warm on my cheek.

  “Good.” Relief flickered in his eyes. “You’re awake.”

  I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. “I’m not like him.”

  “Like who?”

  “Never mind.”

  His brows drew together. “All right. Get closer to the fire. I’ll be back in a moment.” He disappeared from my vision.

  I pushed up on my elbows, surveying the room. I lay on a rug by a roaring fire in a stone fireplace. An oak tree grew from the center of the wooden room, its boughs twinkling with lanterns, and its arched, twisting branches forming the ceiling. A crooked ladder led up to a loft with a bed, and under it, Roan rummaged around in a chest.

  From white walls hung stag’s antlers and wood carvings, and rounded windows looked out onto the dark forest, tinged pink with the rising sun. Bookshelves lined the walls, and the firelight cast a flickering glow over a moss-green sofa just to my right. Every surface in the place was crooked and curved, as if the house had formed from the forest itself.

  A gleaming sword rested by the fireplace, and above the hearth, a heraldic emblem featuring a stag. I narrowed my eyes. I hadn’t seen that one in Leroy’s.

  Trembling, I dragged myself closer to the fire, feeling its warmth against my skin. I held out my hands, the warmth slowly trickling in. They hurt like hell. I slowly clenched and unclenched them, watching the flames from between my fingers. I still wore his rain-soaked cloak, and my body felt like ice. At this point, the frigid cloak was doing more harm than good, and I unclasped it, pulling it off. I pulled off my shoulder bag, dropping it by my side.

  Roan straightened, clutching two downy blankets. “This’ll warm us while our clothes dry.”

  “While our clothes dry?” I muttered, confused.

  He crossed to me and dropped the blankets on the floor. “Take off your clothes.”

  I stared, watching as he pulled off his soaked white shirt to reveal his powerful chest, the firelight flickering over his lethal-looking tattoos. I couldn’t help but let my eyes roam over his arms, thickly corded with muscle. I tried to be prepared to kill everyone I met, but I would not want to be on the wrong side of a fight with him if I could help it.

  “We’ll dry our things,” he said.

  My cheeks heated. “I’m not changing here. I’m not even wearing underwear, since you made me leave it at the palace.”

  “Suit yourself.” He shrugged, and pulled off his belt, then his pants. He wore only a pair of wet, black shorts.

  When he turned to face the other way, my chest tightened. A network of brutal scars marked the skin over his back. Someone had hurt him… badly. I watched him walk to a brass bowl in the corner of the room. He twisted his shirt above the bucket, squeezing the water out of it, then did the same to his pants. His body exuded pure power, and my breathing grew shallow. He seemed perfectly comfortable in only his underwear.

  And then, he took them off.

  My heart racing, I turned away.

  A few moments later, he returned, wrapped in a blanket. Despite his height, the fabric covered most of him. Clutching the wool with one hand, he hung his clothes on hooks above the fireplace with the other.

  “The clothes will smell like smoke tomorrow, but there’s nothing to do about that.” He crossed the room, ducking under a leafy threshold into a dark hall. A few moments later, he returned with a plate of bread and dried meat.

  He sat across from me in front of the fire, sliding the food over to me. “Eat. I don’t want to have to hear your stomach anymore.” For just a moment, his eyes flicked to me, and I saw his fists tighten on the blanket, his knuckles whitening. “You should cover up.”

  “You’re one to talk.” I grabbed a piece of bread, biting into it. God, it tasted delicious. “You’re big on double standards here, aren’t you? You walk around naked in front of me, and I have to wear a dress that’s transparent, but not too transparent.”

  Looking down at my body and seeing my hardened nipples grazing the wet fabric, I realized he had a point. Maybe I was clutching to a shred of dignity I had long lost.

  “Fine.” I sat in front of him, turning my back to him. “I’ll need you to do the buttons.”

  “Mmmm,” he said.

  In the next moment, I felt his fingers nimbly moving down my spine as he unbuttoned the back of my dress, exposing more of my skin. Each time his fingers brushed against my skin, I felt a strange shiver of pleasure, and my back began to arch. And when he’d finished, I thought I heard him exhale a shaky breath.

  “There,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It’s done.”

  “Thank you.”

  I grabbed the other blanket, and wrapped it around me. Then, doing my best to hide myself, I let the dress fall to the ground. It was a clumsy procedure, and at one point part of the blanket fell away, revealing the side of my naked body. I grasped it, panicking. Roan was staring at me, a purely carnal look on his face.

  Finally, he tore his gaze away, with a low growl. “You need to eat something.”

  I managed to fully remove the dress and hung it on a spare hook above the fireplace, feeling extremely naked underneath my blanket.

  I was certain of one thing. Roan might be very comfortable with his own body, but something about mine deeply unnerved him.

  Chapter 22

  I lay by the sofa, curled up in the warm woolen blanket. I can’t say I’d ever lain naked on an animal skin before, and I felt a little weird about the fur tickling my back and thighs. But at least I was warm.

  My body was relaxed in the warmth, my belly full of bread and butter that Roan had brought for me. If I hadn’t been plagued by sleep deprivation, I’d have lain awake all night, staring at Roan to make sure he wasn’t going to murder me in my sleep. And while not staring at Roan, I probably would have obsessively thought of my father—the fae murderer—and all the reasons I was nothing like him.

  But as it was, sleep quickly claimed control of my mind.

  And as I drifted off, I found myself in a wood of towering oaks that clawed at the night sky, starlight streaming through their boughs. Strangely, I felt as though I belonged here, that I’d always belonged among these ancient trees. Their powerful trunks seemed to breathe in and out in the dark forest.

  Dressed in a silky red gown that brushed against my thighs, I walked on a mossy path, my bare feet cushioned by earth. In a forest that smelled of fresh rain, the hair rose on the back of my neck. Someone was hunting for me. He was hunting for me, and yet I wasn’t afraid. I was ready for him. I wanted him. Slowly, my fingertips trailed down the front of my body, between my breasts, past my belly… I wanted to feel his hands on me. My pulse raced as my body grew warmer, seeming to swell and strain against the fabric of my dress.

  He’s coming for me.

  Distantly, I heard his footsteps pounding the earth, his body making the ground tremble. Roan.

  No. No! What was I doing here?

  And even as I struggled for control of my own thoughts, I felt my hands untying the front of my dress, letting it fall from my body as
the cool forest air caressed my skin. Some traitorous part of me wanted to be ready for him, to feel his skin against mine. I wanted to show him how much my body ached for him.

  He’s closer now. Though I couldn’t explain why, I unclasped my bra, letting it fall to the ground, my breasts peaked in the forest air.

  He was so close now that I could feel his primal energy charging the air. Closer. When his hands slid around me from behind, his touch lit my blood on fire. His powerful energy rushed over my naked skin.

  From behind, he ran his hands over my breasts, and I pressed myself against him. I let out a moan, already writhing at his touch, and I turned my head to look into his golden eyes. Horns gleamed on his head.

  “Get on the ground,” he said, his voice low.

  The next thing I knew, I was on all fours in nothing but panties, my ass in the air, fingers digging into the dirt. I moaned, and in my desperation for him, the sounds coming from my mouth were no longer quite human. With one hand, he gripped my hair, and slowly stroked the fingertips of the other hand down my spine, his touch sending hot shivers of pleasure through my body. Then he cupped between my legs. I so desperately wanted his fingers just on the other side of that fabric. Panting, I writhed against his hand.

  “Cassandra.”

  I still wore my panties, and I wanted him to strip me completely, to be totally naked for him. As if hearing my thoughts, he pulled them off in one swift movement, still gripping my hair. Desperate for more, I opened my legs, moaning as he dipped his fingers…

  “Cassandra.” His voice woke me from my dream.

  I lay damp under a woolen blanket, with Roan leaning over me. I flushed, mortified to realize my fingertips were between my legs as I looked into his deep, golden eyes.

  “Cassandra,” he said, his voice husky. Desire sparked in his eyes, and warm firelight flickered over his powerful golden shoulders.

  He pressed his hands on either side of my head, staring at me with that pure carnal look. God, I wanted this man. I wanted to throw off my blanket right there. My body heating, I licked my lips.

  Without another word, he leaned in, kissing me hungrily. His tongue brushed against mine, and I moaned into his mouth. As he kissed me, my mind filled with unfamiliar memories—the scent of wild strawberries in a woodland forest, sunlight filtering through oaks onto my bare skin… I lost all sense of time and place, enraptured by the kiss.