Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(47)

Movement caught her eye. Halfway up the long driveway, leaves fluttered in a sudden breeze. They calmed for a moment, and then came the distinct sound of a footstep crunching down on them.

Charity held her breath as a man stepped into sight. Someone who was drunk or high, she told herself—not a threat. Still, if it came down to it, she had weapons. The guy took one step, then another, walking with an effortless grace that screamed sobriety. In the middle of the driveway, he stopped, facing the house. An inhuman stillness settled over him.

Shivers settled over Charity.

Breath barely getting past the huge lump in her throat, she stared at the man as he watched the screeching and jeering drunks littering the front of the house. She had no idea what he was pondering, but she knew what she was—

Please go toward the house. Please go toward the house. Please go toward the house!

He turned slowly, as though he wasn’t sure why he was moving at all. He stopped halfway around, facing the trees. His head kept turning until…he stared directly at her.

She didn’t fool herself into thinking this was some wayward traveler. Or a partier strangely in tune with his surroundings. She didn’t fool herself at all, just accepted the situation for what it was.

One of those creatures from the other night was standing in the middle of the driveway, and Devon and the other shifters weren’t hot on its trail.

A thrill shot through her body. Her limbs started to tingle and her fingers itched to grab the gun. She had excellent aim and hours of practice, but it was dark and he was way too far away. Besides, she’d seen how fast those things could move. He would see her reach for the weapon and immediately go on the defensive.

Shit.

She stayed frozen. So did he.

What the hell was he waiting for? Was he like a T-Rex; he could only see movement? Because if so, things were looking good for her—except for the sweat tracking down her forehead.

The breeze stirred her hair and somewhat cooled her cheeks. Her stomach flip-flopped as she realized what direction the breeze was coming from.

She was upwind, and she bet those things smelled really well.

Double shit!

The rest of the guy’s body swung around.

Charity started to pant with fear. Her instincts went haywire, insisting she do several things at once: run, fight, shoot, scream. She didn’t know which command to follow. So she stayed frozen, watching it, hoping Devon—or anyone!—would burst through the trees and save her.

He took a step toward her. And then another. He’d chosen his direction.

Shiiiit!

“Hello,” he called from ten yards away in a distinctly familiar, musical voice.

No way. It couldn’t be.

“I thought I recognized the smell. And look, so beautiful. Yes, I remember you perfectly. Exquisite.”

This wasn’t happening.

As he got closer, the moonlight draped over his flawless, perfect face. It was the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her life, for the second time in her life. She couldn’t make out his deep, dark eyes from this distance, but she could feel them, entrancing her. Unfurling unspeakable desires.

Her skin crawled as if fire ants were breeding on her body. His perfect smile flashed those even white teeth she remembered from the party. She had no idea how she could see them through the darkness, but the impression registered perfectly, almost a feeling more than a visual.

But underneath that incredibly handsome exterior was an unbelievably dangerous, not to mention ugly, fanged monster.

“What happened to you the other night? I had so looked forward to making your acquaintance,” he said as he moved toward her like a poltergeist.

“How do you do that sashaying thing? Are you hovering?” she asked, her voice firm despite her terror. She needed a plan. Any plan.

She really wanted to run.

“Oh no, my exquisite lady. I am graceful, like a dancer. I am gentle, too, like a lover should be. Let me show you.”

“No, I’m good.”

He stopped five yards from her, softening his predatory gaze (a gaze she could still feel more than see). “You are frightened. You know what I am. So rare, for a human to meet the eyes of one my age and not succumb. I am intrigued. And delighted. But please, let us chat amicably.” He gave her a small smile and clasped his hands in front of his body, the model of patience.

Silence stretched between them. Apparently, she was supposed to start their amicable chat…

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I have a child here. He is learning control, under my guidance. I have great plans for him. I am paying a visit to check on his progress.”

“Uh-huh. Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“But how can I pass up such a treat as you? Impossible.” He scoffed lightly. “You must realize that I do not wish to harm you. On the contrary, I’m glad you did not change. The smell of you is…divine. Too delicious to go to waste. You remind me of something…” His musical voice turned wispy. “I cannot place it, but I have the impression of a pleasant memory. A savory memory.” Stews were savory. Not good. His attention returned to her. “My lovely, I can give you everything you could possibly desire—riches, power, cars, servants.” He put out his manicured hand. “Come to me.”

So strong was the allure of his eyes that it nearly took her breath away.