Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(34)

He wanted to reciprocate with all he had. But he wasn’t allowed to. Roger had made that clear. He was to be her protector—it was on him to keep her alive.

“Wait for me,” he said through gritted teeth, running across the plush green grass of Samantha Kent’s small front yard. He held his Glock low and close so as not to alarm any neighbors who might be peeking out of their windows. The last thing he needed was for someone to call the cops on him. His usual recourse—changing into a wolf and fleeing—wouldn’t be possible now that he was on protective duty. Charity would never be able to keep up on foot.

On second thought, a serial killer wouldn’t have been bad enough for karma to land him in this detail.

“It’s fine. I’ll be real quick,” she said as she reached the door.

Shadows draped across the dilapidated front porch. They’d spent far too long at the crossing between Sector Eight and the Brink thanks to Charity’s damn questions.

“Why do they call it Sector Eight?” she’d asked as they stood in front of the crossing. “And why the Brink?”

“The Realm is divided into eight sectors. Our headquarters are in Sector Eight. The Brink…just is. I don’t know. Will you come on?”

She pointed at the portal, refusing to walk right up to it. “What is this fuzzy line in the air? And is that a bench circle over there? Do people come to the border and hang out, like teenagers at a 7-Eleven?”

“It’s the tear in the fabric of the worlds that allows us to pass from one to the other. And yes, if they get tired or are waiting for someone, they hang out and rest for a while. Will you please come on?”

After they finally crossed, she asked, “Did you buy that Range Rover new?”

“Yes. Get in.”

She scoured him with condescension before she said, “Must be nice.”

He’d nearly strangled her.

She lived with a rich person. She hung around her roommate’s rich friends. She occasionally went to rich-people parties. She was jonesing after a rich person. To all of that, Andy said she was sweet, smiley, and extremely blasé. Nothing bothered this girl when it came to money.

Except for Devon, apparently, even though he’d earned it all. Growing up, his mother hadn’t even told him about his shifter genes. Then, when they’d materialized, she’d given him an ultimatum: ignore the summons or be cut off. She’d wrongly assumed the threat would scare him into staying with his family. It hadn’t. He didn’t respond to bullying, even from his own mother. He’d made his money by working hard and rising in the ranks, not to mention investing well. He’d gotten into that school on his own, too.

Which he’d screamed at Charity after losing his temper yet again.

Her response?

Snorting and looking out the window. As if she didn’t believe him. As if he wasn’t living up to her expectations.

For some reason, he alone ticked her off. Now he had to live with her, work with her—thank God he had different classes, or he’d quit his job altogether.

Part of him wanted to scream at her. Or wrap his fingers around her neck and shake. But as the hideaway key turned in the lock, those thoughts fled.

He snatched her back from the door and thrust her behind him.

“Wait,” he seethed. “Anything could be in there.”

“I thought you said they couldn’t go out in daylight?”

He felt her palm press to the center of his back, keeping tabs on his body movement. She wanted to feel his intentions so she’d know which way to dive. Smart.

“They sleep during the day, but it doesn’t mean they won’t go active if their territory is invaded. This is Samantha’s residence. She’ll define it as her territory, and if she’s inside, as soon as it’s breached, she’ll rise to defend it. And any other vamp with her.”

Charity sucked in a breath. In a shaky voice, she asked, “How do you kill them?”

He took in the smells—the stale whiff of vampire, a pungent, musty scent that clashed with the sweetness of Charity—and lowered the gun as a car drove past. “With a gun, you shoot them in the heart. You can also rip off their heads or expose them to sunlight. The problem is, these bloodsuckers are beyond fast. If there are more than one or two in here, we need to get out. No fighting, no trying to defend yourself—get out.”

“I know.”

Yes, she did. Probably better than he.

He nodded and put his shoulder to the door. It was the first time he might have to confront one of these creatures without fur.

“Keep your wits,” he whispered. “We need to stick together. We need to have each other’s backs.”

“Like a pack.”

Dillon was right—give her the rules, and get out of the way. This all might be new to her, but she had street smarts in spades. “Exactly. Like a pack.”

He took a deep, steadying breath. He needed to trust her like he would his pack mates, but it was hard, given everything she didn’t know about her own magic.

“If anyone’s here, I’m banking on it just being Samantha,” he said, grabbing the handle. “New vamps are solitary beings. They’re hunters. Only when their appetite is sated will they fall back into their previous lives as humans. They’ll remember schedules and clutch on to their failing humanity. For a while, anyway. Until that erodes away.”