Bad Fae: A Snarky Paranormal Detective Story (A Cat McKenzie Novel Book 3)

by Lauren Dawes

  Thirteen

  When I returned to Sawyer’s apartment—my apartment now too—I shrugged out of my jacket, then rifled through the cupboards until I found a bottle of whisky, pouring myself a glass. I felt jittery like I was about to jump out of my skin. Although, I wasn’t sure how that was possible considering I was frozen solid after walking home from the park.

  My truck had been totaled.

  Again.

  I must be getting desensitized to the repeated destruction of my property.

  When Sawyer strolled out of his room, I was on my third drink. His hair was wet from the shower he’d just taken, and all I could think was that he’d been out to feed on someone.

  He always showered after he fed.

  And jealousy was a bitch.

  He eyed the tumbler in my hand. “Rough… Saturday?” he asked.

  “You could say that.” I finished off what was in my glass, then lowered it back to the counter. “The fae queen dragged my truck into Buxton River.”

  “Run that by me again?”

  I poured another drink and threw it back. “Avi came to see me and demanded I return her necklace. When I refused to play by her rules, she controlled my truck somehow, dragged it through the park from the street and sent it straight into the water.”

  His brows rose to his hairline. “Avi, the Unseelie Queen?”

  “That’s all you got out of everything I just said?” I shook my head and poured myself another inch of amber liquid. “She came out of the middle of a frozen Buxton River. Just popped out of there like a cork. Then she totaled my truck! How in the hell could she do that?”

  Sawyer motioned for the bottle of whisky, and I gave it to him. After he took a long pull, he set the bottle back down. “The ruling queen can leave Wonderland briefly, but they need to be tethered to their realm in some way. Since Avi is the Unseelie Queen, it would make sense that she used ice to be her conduit between the two realms.”

  “So, Astrid wouldn’t be able to do the same?”

  “She isn’t ruling right now,” he replied with a shrug.

  “How do you know this? Did you read it in one of your books?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve bedded some extra loose-lipped fae before.”

  My face scrunched up in distaste. “Make you a deal. You stop talking about past lovers, and I’ll…”

  What could I give up?

  Unicorn collection? Not likely. I had a couple of statuettes and a new set of Christmas-themed pajamas coming next week.

  Coffee? Nah, I didn’t like the idea of being un-caffeinated.

  “Yes?”

  I waved him off. “I’m still thinking.”

  “Take your time,” he said, smirking.

  Dick.

  Eventually, I huffed. “Just stop talking about them.”

  All his playfulness was gone as he rounded the counter, his gray eyes fixed on mine. “Why?”

  “Why?” I snorted. “Because who likes to hear about ex-lovers?”

  He came to a stop in front of me, the air crackling between us. “Why does it bother you so much, hearing about my lovers?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Because nobody wants that rubbed in their faces. Past lovers, present lovers, it’s all a no-go. Want me to bring up Mason again?”

  He growled at me, the possessive sound hitting me between my legs and making me let out a shuddering breath. Wrapping his hand around my waist, he jerked me closer until we were standing nose-to-nose. His warm breath feathered over my skin, the scent of his toothpaste minty and fresh mixing with the smokey peat of the whisky.

  “I don’t want to hear that guy’s name on your pretty lips, pussy cat.”

  Before I could give him my outraged reply, he dropped his head and nuzzled the side of my neck. Kissing me. Licking me. I knew I should stop this, but, my God, I didn’t want to. I tipped my head back, giving him better access to my throat. He nipped gently with his teeth before licking away the sting. Against my stomach, I felt the push of his growing erection.

  He could only feed on other’s lust right now.

  But he could only get hard for me.

  Heady. That was such a heady feeling.

  Threading my fingers through his hair, I murmured, “Are you starving?”

  He groaned, flexing into me. “For you? Yes. Always.”

  His hands drifted lower, digging into the skin of my ass. He hauled me in closer, sliding his thigh in between my legs and lowering my hips onto it. Like a woman possessed, I started to grind on him, rubbing myself against him until my panties were soaked, and my whole body felt like it was electrified.

  “Pussy cat,” he whispered under his breath, kissing my neck, my jaw, my lips. I opened my mouth for him, letting him sweep his tongue inside and taste me completely. We both groaned. Sawyer tangled his hands into my hair, holding my lips hostage to his. I let go, let him consume me. Effortlessly, he lifted me onto the counter, pushing his big body between my legs and claiming back the space. The whole time, our mouths clashed in a desperate kiss—of teeth, of tongues, of lips.

  I was drowning in lust, in need, in want for him. Squeezing his sides with my knees, I urged him closer until I wasn’t sure where I finished and he began. I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging at it until he hissed in pleasure.

  He felt so good. This felt so good, but…

  … he was my partner. And although the little issue of monogamy had been straightened out, the issue of our working relationship hadn’t.

  His hips surged again, the friction pushing me closer to an orgasm that always seemed to be waiting in the wings whenever Sawyer was involved.

  Okay, maybe I was looking at this way too hard, but I needed to know we were going to be all right. Sex ruined friendships. It was as simple as that, but maybe catching feelings didn’t have to be a thing. Maybe we could do this and leave all the emotional baggage at the door. I mean, I’d be doing him a service, after all. This was Good Samaritan work here.

  Before I could run my idea past him, the apartment buzzer sounded. Sawyer either hadn’t heard it or didn’t give a shit because his kiss was still frantic, his hands roving all over my body. With my hands on his shoulders, I pushed a little, forcing him to take a step back.

  His eyes were black, streaking with lightning every few seconds. He’d been feeding, but I knew it hadn’t been enough. I pulled away farther, my chest rising and falling rapidly. Lust was still spinning a web inside me, but I was beginning to feel more in control of myself.

  “What is it?” he rasped, licking his lips. “What’s wrong?”

  “Someone’s buzzing to get in,” I replied in an even more hoarse voice. Just then, they buzzed again. “See?”

  With a growl that sounded far more animalistic than what should’ve come from a male’s voice, he glared at the door before returning his attention to me. He kissed my forehead, my nose, and the side of my mouth while he stroked and caressed my arms gently.

  “Can we continue this later?” he asked.

  Buzz, buzz, buzzz.

  “I don’t think we should’ve started this in the first place,” I replied, and the look of desolation on his face almost killed me.

  “I know you’re uncomfortable with the idea of being my consort—”

  Buzz, buzz, buzzz.

  “You’re damn right I am,” I snapped, then let out a breath, tempering my anger. “I just need to know that things won’t go south with us. You’re one of the most important people in my life besides Sasha and Mrs. Brown. If I mess up what we have going on, I’d never forgive myself.”

  “How could you mess it up?”

  Buzz, buzz, buzzz.

  Sawyer peered over his shoulder and growled again.

  “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

  “No. We aren’t expecting anyone. They’ll go away. Besides, I want to talk about this… about us… a little more. I want to know why you keep fighting. You’re attracted to me without the need for my influence. You accept that this i
s my life, that I must feed in order to survive, but I can’t keep feeding purely on lust.”

  He took my hand in his and placed it on his thick, hot erection. He arched into my hand as I wrapped my fingers around his shaft. With a groan, he bit his lip and looked at me.

  “I’m dead without you. Please, Cat.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip. Could I do this? I didn’t like seeing him in pain. It wasn’t as if we were going to get married. He couldn’t knock me up since the only way that was possible was from a coupling between an incubus and a succubus. Besides, we’d already done this once, and nothing had changed.

  What we’d have would be the perfect no-strings agreement. Letting out a long breath, I locked my gaze on his and said, “Just sex? No feelings? No expectations for more? No… couple stuff?”

  His jaw tightened. “If that’s what you want.”

  Was it? “It is.” I nodded just to drive my point home. “What if I’m seriously interested in dating someone while we have this arrangement?”

  His expression grew tight, and his top lip curled off his teeth. “You won’t need anything else from anyone while you’re with me. I’m going to leave you so satisfied, you’ll be boneless.”

  I grinned. “So sure of yourself.”

  He cupped my face, and I let out an unbidden moan. Dammit. One touch. That’s all it had taken. “No, I’m so sure of us, Cat.”

  My hand was still on his cock, so I rubbed him through his sweats, making him suck in another hissed breath. He bundled up my hair, fisted the lot of it and pulled, arching my neck and back, pushing out my chest. A thrill went through me.

  As he licked a path up my neck, he whispered harshly, “I’ll make every time good for you, pussy cat, I swear it. Being with me will not be a hardship.”

  “I know,” I panted breathily, moaning when he tugged a little harder.

  His mouth slammed into mine, claiming it in a hot kiss that made wild fire shoot through my veins. I realized that the first time we’d had sex, Sawyer had been severely weakened from not feeding on anything at all. Now, he was jacked up on lust. I shivered at the thought of what he’d be like the next time we did this—when he was replete from feeding fully and without reserve.

  “I’ll make you feel so good,” he murmured into my ear, nipping at the lobe and soothing the sting away with his tongue. I gasped and clung to his shoulders, digging in my fingers—holding on tightly.

  Buzz, buzz, buzzz.

  With a curse, Sawyer wrenched himself away and stalked to the intercom by the door.

  “What?” he snarled.

  A tinny, electric voice said, “It’s Blaze.” There was a gasp, then he added in a desperate tone, “Please, may I come in? Someone is—” His words were inaudible, then it sounded as if there was a scuffle. Blaze panted as if in pain before he cried desperately, “Stop… please, sto—” The intercom squealed with electrical interference and went dead.

  Sawyer looked over at me, alarmed. “Did he buzz in before?”

  I shook my head. “No, he didn’t. He just showed up on the doorstep. What the hell is going on?”

  Grimly, he replied, “I don’t know,” before he stalked to his room. After a few moments, he emerged, carrying his Glock. His erection was still tenting his sweats, and I licked my lips as my gaze fell on it.

  So sue me. He was magnificent.

  “Eyes up here, pussy cat,” he murmured, not amused this time. I glanced up. “I’m going to go down there and see what happened.”

  I pointed in the general direction of his groin. “I don’t think you’ll be needing the Glock. You’re already locked and loaded in the crotch area.”

  I couldn’t help it. Humor was my go-to when things got scary.

  I startled when there was a knock on the door. Sawyer’s expression hardened as he shoved me behind him and brought up his gun. He pulled open the door quickly, taking aim. I peered around his shoulder.

  “Jesus.”

  Blaze stood on the doorstep, his formal white shirt covered in blood. He had his hands clutched over his midsection, his mouth set in a firm grimace. The top of his tan breeches was soaking up more blood that appeared to be spilling from the stomach wound beneath his palms.

  “Fuck.” I grabbed him by the frothy shirt and hauled him inside. His legs collapsed beneath him, dropping him like a stone to the floor only a few feet inside the apartment. “Sawyer, I need the first-aid kit.”

  Gently moving Blaze’s hands out of the way, I got a better look at the injury. He’d been stabbed, it seemed. The puncture was straight through his stomach, and from what I could tell, the fae reacted just as badly to stomach wounds as humans did. I glanced over to find Sawyer still gone, so I shucked my shirt, bundled it up into a tight ball, and shoved it against his stomach. I wasn’t a doctor, but I knew I needed to stop the bleeding.

  Sawyer’s chocolate and whisky scent was suddenly surrounding me, his hands warm as they covered mine and lifted the shirt to see what kind of damage the guy had sustained.

  “Fuck.” That was all he said. His gaze flickered to the fae’s face. “Blaze, tell us what happened.”

  Blaze’s eyes cracked open, hazy with pain. “Attacked. Queen. He…” He drifted off, his eyes sliding shut.

  “Blaze? Blaze?” I called, trying to rouse him.

  Sawyer savagely dug his fingers into the wound, the pain snapping Blaze back into consciousness with a pained moan.

  “Who attacked you?” Sawyer demanded fiercely.

  The fae’s mouth opened and closed slowly like a dying fish. “Haunted… house,” he eventually whispered in a hoarse voice. With one final gasp, Blaze’s chest stopped rising and falling. As his heart gave out, the blood stopped flowing as quickly until it sat in still pools on either side of his body.

  I lifted my hand away from his stomach. “A haunted house attacked him?” I asked, puzzled.

  Sawyer’s jaw clenched, then he sat back on his heels. “It must be the new entrance to Wonderland.” He stood and grabbed his phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Lee. We can’t leave a body here like this. Lee? Yeah, sorry to bother you…”

  I blocked out the rest of the conversation, studying Blaze’s wound instead. He’d been stabbed in the stomach—the strike not necessarily unusual, but most people with knives go for the heart or the neck. The stomach was the place you hit when you wanted to inflict maximum pain. Plus, I thought the fae were pretty robust, but clearly, they had some weaknesses.

  “Lee will be here in thirty,” Sawyer announced, pulling me from my musings.

  “Who do you think Blaze was talking about? He said ‘queen,’ but then he said ‘he.’” I turned to look at him. “The fae queens aren’t… you know, like hermaphroditic frogs, are they?”

  He shook his head. “I have no idea, but clearly the threats to Astrid’s life have some veracity if they’ve gone after her servant. I just wonder why Blaze was attacked in our realm and not in Wonderland.”

  “Maybe because he came to us for help?” I offered. “I mean, it’s a pretty flimsy theory, but…” I shrugged, unable to think of a way to finish that thought. “Also, how could a stomach wound kill a fae? I thought they were pretty much impervious to injury.”

  “The fae aren’t immortal,” he started. “Just long-lived. And they have their weaknesses. If that blade had been made of cold iron, it would’ve killed him.”

  “I don’t want to go all cop on you, but since he’s currently dead, I’d hazard a guess and say the blade was cold iron. Also, what’s cold iron, and why would it have affected him like this?”

  “It’s just regular iron as far as I know. There’s nothing special about it other than the purity of the material. Humans have known for a long time that iron weakens the fae. Whether they still believe the old stories is another issue altogether.”

  “So you think a human did this?” I gestured to the body, and my own question had my mind whirring. What if this was someone from Rogue Faction?
They saw a fae at my apartment and killed him?

  He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling under the fabric of his shirt. “I wouldn’t rule out the possibility, but I would also question the motives of a human.”

  “Maybe it was a wrong-place-wrong-time kind of thing?” Or maybe I’d put the final nail in the coffin because of my association with the fae.

  “Maybe. But why would a human be carrying around a one hundred percent pure iron dagger? Most modern daggers are made of steel, and although steel is an alloy comprised of iron, it’s not enough iron to kill a fae as quickly as it did Blaze.”

  “You’re forgetting that a blade was stabbed into his stomach.”

  “It still wouldn’t have been enough to kill him so quickly.” He looked down at the body. “I’ll go and get a sheet to cover him.”

  I stood on shaking legs and looked down. My bra, chest, and stomach were covered in blood. My jeans and hands were covered too. I lifted them and stared at the slick red coating, twisting them one way and then the other. It seemed so strange that Blaze was alive one minute and gone the next.

  “I need to shower,” I said to no one in particular. I mean, it wasn’t like Blaze was going to care that I was leaving him unattended and was being a bad host.

  I padded off to my room, being careful to strip my clothes off once I got into the bathroom. Getting blood out of the carpet wasn’t something I needed to be doing on a Saturday night.

  Then again, having a body lying in the doorway of our apartment wasn’t either.

  Fourteen

  Lee was there to pick up the body when I stepped from my bedroom, rubbing a towel through my hair. He’d placed Blaze into a black body bag, which was lying on the gurney he’d also brought up with him.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention…” Lee started, “… I have those results back from the attack on the boy at Buxton Forest Lodge. I can confirm he wasn’t killed by an animal, at least not in the conventional sense.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “He was attacked by a werewolf.”

  Sawyer’s brows dipped in concern. “You’re sure?”