Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(18)

Chapter Nine





Charity startled awake. She jolted in the narrow bed before pushing to sitting and wiping her eyes. She shouldn’t have given in to the urge to lie down. The late hour and the boredom had lulled her to sleep.

The tiny pink clock on the white, lollipop-looking bedside table read 2:47. She held in her sigh of relief. Given the level of effort in the horizontal gymnastics she’d witnessed earlier, everyone’s stamina should’ve given out by now. Their fatigue would be wearing off, and those not accustomed to sharing a bed would be ready to slink away.

She got to her feet and tiptoed to the door. A patrol of the hallway would give her a good indication of the state of affairs. If a few rooms were empty, she’d try to find a window that looked down on the driveway. She didn’t dare wander out there again—who knew where Devon and his homicidal friend would be in their acid trip. They might be rigging booby traps out there for all she knew. The crazy made a point of doing crazy things.

She grabbed the lock to flip it, and a blast of apprehension ran her through.

The door was unlocked.

Waves of adrenaline pumped into her blood.

She’d locked it when she’d come in. She knew she had. She’d stood here, fumbled for a second to grab it, and cranked it over. She vividly remembered feeling the tiny bit of assurance a lock could give.

Why was it now unlocked?

Barely able to stand still for the sudden anxiety throbbing in her chest and the blood pounding in her ears, she backed up a couple of steps to the middle of the room. Turning slowly, afraid of what she’d find, she looked at the other bed.

The soft sound caught her attention first. So soft she hadn’t heard it until now, when she was really listening. Panting, almost, like a dog in the hot sun. Shallow, quick breathing, barely audible.

Gritting her teeth and peering through the heavy darkness, she could barely make out a shape, something like a miniature mountain range, in the glow from the clock on the other nightstand. Moving closer, her skin crawling and her insides dancing with unease, she narrowed her eyes to see who had picked the lock, or perhaps found the key.

Some of the mountains rose and fell, and it took Charity a moment to see that the tempo of the movements matched the panting. Large breasts, their nipples erect. A woman, then, her hands at her sides and the rest of her body still.

A thread of worry wormed through Charity. Was the woman in trouble? Was she suffering from posttraumatic stress? Or had Charity been wrong about the stamina of the partiers running out, and they’d simply changed rooms?

The thread of worry changed to a rush of anger. If this woman was in trouble, Charity would help in any way she could. If nothing else, she’d beat the offender senseless. If it was the other…well, maybe they needed a good thump for breaking into her chosen room. She was tired and grumpy and about done with the insanity.

She took another couple of steps and grabbed the glowing clock radio before turning it toward the bed. Platinum-blonde hair caught her notice. The scowler! Just as Charity had thought, she lay nude on top of the covers, her hands at her sides and legs straight. Her eyelids flickered and her eyeballs moved under the skin, as though she were in an intense REM cycle.

Beside her lay an equally nude man with an incredibly defined body and a great set of arms crossed over his chest. He was trying to make himself smaller so the woman would fit in the bed. On his neck, nearly lost to the shadows, was a trickle of liquid seeping from a gash.

Was that…?

Charity leaned in a little.

That was blood. The woman had gone for an overzealous hickey and actually drawn blood.

It was not just punch. It was a special elixir to prepare your body for the transformation into a vampire. Taking a vampire’s blood will complete the change.

Charity’s disbelieving though incredibly uncomfortable chuckle disturbed the near silence of the room. She shook her head, flicking her glance down the bed. Between strong thighs stood a large erection.

Charity jerked back, and her face flamed in the darkness. The man’s eyes snapped open. His head fell to the side and his gaze landed on her.

“Hmm. You smell delicious,” he said, sexy and sinful and sensual. “I am ready for you.”

“Good God.” Charity staggered backward. “No, no. Ha! Ha. No. I’m just… I was in here, see?” Why did she suddenly sound like a nineteen-thirties gangster? “I was sleeping on that other bed, and you came in…”

“I can handle one more. The previous specimens were fairly weak in their need.” He rose like a mummy in an old-timey movie, his torso lifting up with no turning or help from his hands. “But you… I can feel the strength in you. The power. Are you human? What are you?”

“Grossed out, mostly.” She took another step back. “Honestly, this is a simple matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn’t mean to spy. I was just wondering why someone broke into my room.”

“It is not your room. It is Vlad’s room, and he has given leave for his children to use it. You are not ready to cross over. Did he put you here as a refreshing snack? He is a thoughtful master.”

“Good God,” Charity said again, reaching down to grab Sam’s shoes. “You’re talking crazy. Everyone at this damn party is talking crazy. This is no place for a person like me. I have no sense of humor.”