“But that was you! It was easy to make you feel welcome because you’re you!”
“I think that’s a compliment. So thank you.”
He huffed. “I’m trying to say that, asking me to room with some strange human… Well, you know how I feel about you, but it’s a lot to ask.”
“Okay. Let’s negotiate. What’s it going to take?”
“What?”
“Everything in life is a deal, Charming. What do you need in return for this favor in order to feel like you weren’t taken advantage of?”
“Come on. That’s not what I mean.” Rosie stood, arms crossed over her chest, waiting. Finally, he said, “Scruffal equipment for the Newland kids.”
“The kids Dandy takes care of.”
“Yes. Crave wants to teach all the kids to play scruffal, but there’s not enough money for that much equipment. He’s trying to make it building electric cars.”
“Where do I get scruffal equipment?”
“Well, you can’t just buy it. It has to be made. But if you donate money for materials…” She was gone before Charming could finish the sentence. In ten minutes she returned with ten gold bars. “Here,” she said as she hefted the small bag onto the table.
Charming stepped to the table and looked inside. “Where did this come from?”
“Not from here.”
“Is that, uh, legal?”
Rosie laughed. “Legal? Charming, I’m not human. That means I’m not subject to human laws.”
“What are you?”
She realized they’d never had that discussion. The entire time she’d lived at Newland she’d been masquerading as human to everyone but Carnal.
“Let’s not get sidetracked by labels. The thing is, this money is all yours. No repercussions. You gonna have tee shirts made?” He shook his head in confusion like he was trying to make sense of what she’d just said. “Never mind. I feel really good about this transaction. Sports for orphan kids in exchange for a place for a girl in even more trouble than orphans.”
Charming looked at the gold and realized he’d trapped himself by naming terms.
“I’m going to go get her. Be right back.”
Charming ran a hand through his hair feeling like he’d just been the victim of Hurricane Rosie. The last thing he wanted at the end of a tiring day was a human girl in his space doing what they always do which is to be clingy black holes of need.
CHAPTER THREE
“Here she is.” Rosie gave Ana a little push forward. “Okay. Be good you two. Gotta go or I’ll be late.” She giggled. “For a very important date.”
“Wait a minute! You’re just going to leave me here?” Ana looked at Charming. “With him?”
“What is she saying?” asked Charming, sounding truly aggravated. “You’re leaving some girl who doesn’t even speak Farsu?”
“Oh, yeah.” Rosie stopped and came as close to looking sheepish as is possible for a witch-demon. She waved a hand at Ana, said some words in a language neither Charming nor his prospective guest understood, then said, “All fixed.”
She blew Charming a kiss. He opened his mouth to ask how he could reach her, but she was gone.
He looked the girl over while she did the same to him. He could see that she was confused and thought he might have detected a little fear even though, to her credit, she was doing her best to appear bold and confident. She was pretty, but fragile-looking which was to be expected. If she weren’t human, he might have considered giving her a tumble. But when he’d taken on the role of Leader, he’d resolved that he wouldn’t indulge in human females. Since there were so many more hybrid males than females, and since human women were so attracted to hybrids, he knew that he, of all the Exiled, had to maintain a policy of ‘hands off’ for good interracial relations.
He sighed. “What’s your name?”
Ana was amazed to realize she understood him perfectly and was even more amazed that she could speak Farsu. After all, it wasn’t the most bizarre and outlandish thing that had happened to her that day.
She lifted her chin. “My name is Anastasia Victoria Borislavich.”
“Wow.”
“What’s yours?”
“Charming.”
She smirked. “No. Really.”
“That is my name.”
“Okay. Whatever you say. People call me Ana.”
“Anastasia is beautiful, but it’s a lot of work. So I guess I’ll be ‘people’ and call you Ana. There’s a second room down that hallway. You can stay there until we figure out what to do with you.”
She shrugged. “Whatever.”
“You don’t seem very grateful for somebody who has no place else to go.”
“You’re expecting gratitude? And what else?”
“Common courtesy.”
She barked out a derisive laugh, but stopped laughing when she realized he was serious. “Huh,” she said. “Okay. So you want me to play nice.”
“Look. I’m doing a favor for a friend. She said you’re in trouble and need a place to stay. I have a place for you to stay and I can guarantee that you’ll be safe here.”
She jerked her chin up. “How can you guarantee that?”
“Because there’s no one in this world who would compromise your safety once I claim you as my ward.” Oddly, saying the words ‘claim you’ out loud did funny things to his stomach. He looked her over again. There was no shortage of pretty females with pleasant scents in Farsuitwail. Her hair was close to the same color of most Exiled, but her whiskey-colored eyes gave her an almost-exotic look. She was tall for a human, with an hourglass figure.
“Your ward. What does that mean?” She lifted her chin with a hint that defiance lurked just under the surface of her calm demeanor.
“It means you need taking care of and I’m taking care of you. Is this your version of ‘playing nice’?”
She looked away. “I don’t know the rules. That woman dumped me here. What am I supposed to think?”
“You’re supposed to think this is your lucky day. You’re not going to die. You’re not going to be harmed. You’re safe. So why are you acting like you’re a prisoner and I’m the enemy?”
She sniffed. “I’m not used to people doing stuff without expecting something in return. What are you expecting in return?”
“Common courtesy.”
“What else?”
He thought about it for a minute. “Do you know how to cook?”
She laughed and shook her head. “I know how to steal tortillas out of the back of a taco truck.”
“I’m not going to pretend that I understood any of that except the part about stealing. So let’s focus on that. Stealing is frowned upon here. Don’t do it.”
“What if I’m hungry?”
“There’s a pub downstairs that serves good food. A Far Scar. I’ll introduce you to the owner. If you’re hungry, go there and order something. It’ll go on my tab.”
“Just walk in and say, ‘Give me food?’”
“I hope you’ll manage to be a little more polite?”
“Please, sir, may I have a little food?”
Charming blinked. “I’ll have a few choice words for Rosie next time I see her. Meanwhile, it looks like I’m stuck being your benefactor. It wouldn’t hurt you to act like you appreciate it.”
“My benefactor. Woo woo.” She mocked the way Charming said benefactor.
He stood fuming for a full minute before saying, “Your room is down that hallway. The one on the left. Let me know what else you need and I’ll get it for you.”
She stood up straight, looking interested. “Get it for me. Like just, get it for me?”
“Yes. Like just get it for you.”
“And what do you get out of it? I mean it’s not that you’re not cute and all, but I don’t like being told who to blow.”
Charming would have given just about anything if he hadn’t felt his dick twitch in his pants, but unfortunately amidst all the strange things she said tha
t he didn’t understand, he did happen to know what humans meant by ‘blow’. He turned pink around the ears when he understood what she was suggesting, that he intended to use her as a sex slave in return for room and board. And although that idea had enormous appeal as a fantasy, he was not the kind of male who would force himself on someone. Nor would he ever need to.
“So long as you’re here, you will not be told who to blow.”
“Or fuck.”
“No. You’re free to do what you want about that, too.” He turned away, but stopped as the seeds of curiosity took root. Turning back to her, he said, “Have you been in a situation where somebody made you do things you didn’t want to do?”
Although Charming had been born free, his parents’ generation had been held as research subjects and the idea of forced compliance was still very raw with his people.
She raised her chin when she turned to look at him. “None of your business. And what was the deal with that woman? She’s there. Then she’s not. And she moved us around like, I don’t know like what.”
“None of your business,” Charming replied in kind.
“Oh. Charming.” She said it in her most sarcastic tone.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She started to walk toward the hallway in the direction he’d pointed. As she passed him, he inhaled involuntarily and found that her scent was not only pleasant, but arousing as well.
“And take that with you.”
When she turned, he nodded at the suitcase. She retrieved the suitcase, rolled it to the designated room and stepped in. A couple of seconds later he heard the door close.
The first thing Ana looked for was a lock on the door. There was none. Any person who has spent any amount of time homeless appreciates the value of privacy. And locks.
She looked around the room. It was about as minimal as minimal gets. Bed. Closet. Window. Dresser by the bed with a lamp. Even the bedding looked more military than anything. Plain white sheets and a gray wool blanket.
Still. She was safe. At least she was safe from Ernesto.
She was pretty sure the whole experience with that woman would have been beyond terrifying if she hadn’t already been running for her life. She laid down on top of the blanket and was asleep before she’d had the chance to register that the wool made her skin feel itchy.
Charming sat down at his kitchen table and, more or less, slumped in the chair. He had a human who clearly didn’t want to be there staying in his home and no way to reach Rosie. As if his life wasn’t already enough of a mess, what with people always wanting something from him.
He made a hundred decisions a day without enough time to really consider the logical ramifications of any of them. His choices affected the lives of so many people. Sometimes he thought he might bend under the strain and not be able to get up again. This latest wrinkle, a belligerent guest who seemed to tickle the fancy of his cock, was all he needed, the last proverbial straw.
Before Rosie’s interruption, his intention had been to take a shower, change into clean clothes, and go downstairs for a nice dinner, a tankard of full-bodied ale, and some carefree conversation with friends. He decided to proceed with his plans, but left a note giving directions to the pub in case she came out and was hungry.
When Ana woke up, the room was dark except for lights filtering in from the city. When she turned over, she realized the wool blanket was scratchy, but she’d been so tired it didn’t wake her. She raised a hand to her cheek, smoothing the burn. She was also hungry, even though she’d feasted on steak and French fries earlier in the day.
She cracked the bedroom door open and listened for some indication of whether or not she was alone. Nothing but silence. So she ventured out to the open living space, which was huge like a loft, but sparse with not much in the way of furnishings. Looking around she thought to herself that she didn’t know why Charming was worried about theft. He had absolutely nothing worth stealing.
Her eyes fell on the note and, even though the writing symbols were strange, she found that she could read it.
“If you get hungry, go downstairs to street level and turn left. Half a block down you’ll come to A Far Scar. Go to the bar, ask for Scar, tell him you’re Ana and he’ll feed you.”
Since he didn’t leave a key, she wondered how she was supposed to lock up. Looking around again, she was reminded that there was nothing worth stealing except maybe the stuff she’d brought with her in the suitcase.
She made it to the front door of the building without encountering another soul, but when she stepped out on the street, she saw that it was lively with pedestrian traffic. There was no doubt that she left the familiarity of her own world behind. The buildings were alien in shape and, instead of blacks, grays, and mauve tones, the colors tended to be ivory, gold, and blue.
The clothes she was wearing were different from what she saw on the street. The taller women wore form fitting long sleeve tees with colorful print wraparound skirts and lace-up boots. The women who were more her size wore clothing of such a variety that she didn’t feel conspicuously out of place.
As instructed, she turned left and walked along the sidewalk until she came to A Far Scar. There was music coming from inside. It wasn’t very much like the pop she was used to. It was more like folk music, no electrical instruments. When she stepped inside, she could see that it was being played by a live musician with an odd-shaped acoustical stringed instrument.
The place was crowded, but she spied one empty stool at the bar and began making her way through the people to get there. When she hopped up on the stool, an enormous bear of a man appeared in front of her wearing a white apron tied around his waist. With a gruff manner and voice that sounded like the rumble of distant thunder, he said, “What can I get you, little girl?”
Judging by the prominent scar on his face, she concluded that he must be the proprietor, possibly the scariest-looking person she’d ever seen, including Ernesto. But one thing she’d learned from years in the underbelly of society was that showing weakness would get you eaten alive.
“I’m not a little girl.”
He laughed. “No?”
“No!”
“Would you, by any chance be a little girl named Ana?”
“My name is Ana.” She gave Scar her meanest look. “But I am not a little girl.”
“Alright, settle down. Charming said to give you whatever you want. If you’re a friend of Rosie’s, you’re welcome here because she used to work for me. But make it fast. Got people waiting.”
“I don’t know what you have.”
He pointed to a blackboard behind him. “I’ll be back after helping customers who know what they want.”
She watched him walk away, slinging a damp bar towel over his shoulder, then read the board. With the exception of white sausage steeped in beer, everything sounded good. When Scar returned with an eyebrow raised, she said, “Lamb and onion stew.”
“Drink?” he asked.
“Water?”
“Water,” he repeated then shrugged. “Okaaay.”
She became aware of the guy sitting next to her when he turned and then did a double take. “You new? Haven’t seen you before.”
“Fresh off the boat, but that doesn’t mean I just fell off the cabbage truck.”
He smiled with open curiosity. “I didn’t understand anything you just said.”
“Got here today.”
“I got that.”
The guy was cute enough, but reminded Ana too much of the boyfriend who had betrayed her by taking Ernesto’s money and leaving her to face the consequences. Fucking Joey.
“Good. So understand this. You’re cute and maybe you’re nice too, but I’m not interested in putting in the effort to find out.”
His smile collapsed and he nodded. “Okay, human. That’s blunt enough even for Exiled. Understood that, too.”
Human?
Exiled?
A tanned and muscled forearm with light b
lond hair snaked between Ana and the Joey-look-alike, landing on his shoulder. Hard.
Joey’s doppelganger looked over his shoulder. “Charming. What’s up?”
“This is my ward, Talon.” He glanced at Ana. “She’s under my protection. Just thought you’d like to know sooner rather than later. ‘Cause later comes with physical proof. Do us both a favor and pass the word.” Charming felt a funny sensation in his midsection when he said the phrase ‘under my protection’, but didn’t have time for self-reflection. As if there wasn’t enough going on already, he had to look after a girl who’d practically been left on his doorstep with a note.
The guy Charming had called Talon, slid off his stool, but before he left, he said, “Good luck, Leader. It’s going to take more than a word from me to keep males away from that.” He threw a last glance toward Ana then walked away taking his tankard with him.
Charming slid onto the vacated stool. “So you found the note, found your way here, and ordered supper. You’re more resourceful than you look.”
“No idea if that was an insult or a compliment.”
He smiled and shook his head. “More like playful banter.”
Playful banter?
“If anybody makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, let me know and it will be dealt with.”
Ana barked out a laugh and looked around the room. “You have no idea what my life is like. Believe me, it would take more than some hot guy coming on to me at a bar to make me ‘feel uncomfortable’. While we’re on the subject, I don’t like being treated like property and I don’t think people ought to die just for speaking to me.”
Charming looked at her like she was crazy. First, he’d never heard the term ‘hot’ used to describe a person, but inferred that it meant sexually desirable. He found that distasteful at best because he knew the male he’d retired from the flirting pool and knew Talon couldn’t possibly be considered desirable by anyone. Not even human females. And, second… die?
Charming (Exiled Book 3) Page 3