Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(5)

A shoe torpedoed into the room, smacking off the edge of the bed. Another shot in as the first was bouncing around the floor.

“Hurry up!” Sam shouted.

Charity fingered the dress and sighed. “How bad can this party be?”





Chapter Three





“Oh my God, he’s here?” Sam stomped on the brake, making the seatbelt dig into Charity’s pronounced cleavage.

“I already regret this dress,” Charity mumbled, pushing back in her seat.

“That is who I think it is, right?” Sam sounded giddy as she leaned heavily over the steering wheel to see through the darkness.

The one-lane dirt road surrounded by thick redwoods flared out for several feet before a private road branched off to the left. Two cars were parked before the turn-off—a Range Rover and another SUV. Dim light spilled out from the open car doors, illuminating a few people standing around the vehicles. Other lights peeked through the branches of trees beyond. The house clearly sat at some distance.

“Is that the driveway? Because there’s no more room to park down here. Jeez, why would someone live this far out?” Charity looked through the rear window of the Porsche. They’d traveled a half-hour to Scott’s Valley, a place generally known for wealth, only for GPS to guide them off the two-lane road onto this deathtrap. “I mean, if someone is coming in, and someone else is going out, one of them has to back down this skinny freaking driveway to let the other pass. That’s crazy. Fire season must make these people awfully nervous.”

“Shh,” Sam said, her gaze rooted to a guy with his foot on the bumper of the expensive SUV. A few people stood around him, all of them looking up at the ladies’ approach.

“That guy has no respect for fancy cars,” Charity whispered, trying to pick out their various appearances in the moonlight. “I like that.”

“That is him. That’s Devon!” The lights from the dash highlighted Sam’s smile as she inched along, the Porsche moving impossibly slow. “When I showed him the invite earlier, he didn’t say anything. It makes sense that he’d be invited given…who he is, but he never goes to parties. I mean, obviously he couldn’t say no to this, right? I wonder why he didn’t say anything, though? He is so incredibly hot. Mm, I love bad boys.”

Charity leaned forward to try to get a better look at the guy who had so completely captured her roommate’s attention. He projected lazy boredom in a stylized sort of way, as if he’d rolled out of bed, taken a shower, primped, and then used gel and hairspray to emulate the look of someone who’d rolled out of bed. But it was clear from the ripped jeans, raven stubble, and tight white shirt that he was definitely going for a badass vibe. James Dean of the modern age.

If he’d wandered through Charity’s neighborhood growing up, he’d have gotten his wallet and his shoes stolen.

“I take back what I said earlier,” she said, her mouth twisting in distaste. “I don’t like anything this guy is selling.”

Samantha leaned back in her seat, and her boobs popped, cut through with the seatbelt. She didn’t seem to notice.

“He’s a junior, I think.” She eye-goosed him. “Or maybe a sophomore. He is the available bachelor. Well, you know, if you like the dangerous type…”

She said it like she might’ve said, “If you like gold…”

“What sort of danger? Does his dad’s secretary wave a sharp pen around?”

Sam tsked. “He carries a gun for one, smarty, and so do his friends. For two, he’s in a gang. He’s the leader.”

“A gang?” Charity couldn’t help the disbelieving smirk.

She’d seen gang members. Guys so hard their eyes screamed murderer from twenty yards away. Brutal killers with the smarts to stay out of jail. They’d gun down a kid to get even on a drug score.

This guy was not in a gang.

Except…

Her gaze frisked the crew as they drew closer. There weren’t any telltale bulges in the usual places street thugs hid weapons, at least none she could see in the dim light, but the way these guys (and one girl) held themselves, with their shoulders pointed her way, loose and easy, their posture screaming readiness, it was clear they could handle themselves. There’d be one helluva tussle if she met one of them in a dark alley.

Or a dark, one-lane road deep in the trees…

“We should keep going, probably,” Charity said.

Samantha stopped just before the rear end of the Range Rover and rolled down her window, her chest still pushed out prominently, which looked really awkward in the car.

“This is the opposite of what I said you should do,” Charity murmured.

“Hey,” Samantha said as Devon straightened up.

He walked closer with a swagger born of infallible confidence. Broad shoulders sported lean muscle, and his white T-shirt stretched over a flat stomach. He stopped by the car but didn’t lean down toward Sam, something not many men would have passed up, given all the boobage on display.

“Why are you guys down here?” Samantha said in her sex-kitten voice. “Isn’t the house up there a ways?” She pointed to the private road ahead.

“It is, yeah,” he replied, sounding unimpressed. “We’re not going. I hear those parties can be pretty dangerous. You should head back.”