Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(55)

The buttering up was working.

As the laptop started, she pushed her backpack beneath her feet. Getting comfortable, she glanced at the door, just in case.

Her heart froze solid.

Donnie moved with grace and confidence, drifting in like a dancer. A slightly wrinkled button-up was tucked into the front of his jeans, and his hair was gelled into a spikey do, on par for his usual style and dress choices. Well, except for the wrinkles. Even so, it wasn’t immediately obvious he’d changed in any way.

Except for his face.

Almost glossy in appearance, like he was airbrushed in real life, his face lacked the small discolorations and imperfections of a real person. His handsome features seemed amplified. A little too perfect. Like a mask.

Her heart sank and tears came to her eyes.

Devon was right. They’d all been changed. The proof was right in front of her.

Donnie took to the stairs slowly and purposefully, a predatory grin twisting his lips as he looked over the people he passed. His movements were a little too fluid and easy. She could almost read his mind: Warm bodies.

Food storage.

Charity’s stomach twisted like his grin. Then his dark eyes met hers.

He didn’t notice the smiles of the girls he passed. Nor the nods of his friends. He was not interested in fist bumps or acknowledging the various people who called his name. He didn’t plan to sit with his friends. His sole interest…was her.

“No,” she whispered as he reached the edge of her row. “Please no. Go away.”

She’d barely given voice to the words, but still his lips pulled into a hungry smile.

Adrenaline dumped into her body, and not just from the stare he kept trained on her. For the first time, he greeted her with a delighted smile, like a boyfriend. He was threading between the seats to get to her. To sit with her. Pleasure mingled with fear, the heat of her core messing with the warning in her brain.

What had she been thinking, agreeing to this? She didn’t have the right amount of detachment to stay logical!

“Hey, Charity,” he said, almost like the normal Donnie, though now his voice sounded strangely musical. He lowered into the seat next to her. “I hoped I’d see you.”

She inhaled his scent, like she always did when he strayed close. This time, the sweet cologne mixed with the smell of a particularly pungent soap was overshadowed by a strange sort of funk. Like food gone off.

She crinkled her nose as a pang stabbed her middle.

“Hi, Donnie, how are you?” She rested her hand against her phone.

“I’m good, Charity. Really good. Let’s go out after class. I’ve always wanted to ask, you know. You’re hot and smart. Something has always drawn me to you. Your clothes were the reason I held back. I’m not so petty anymore.”

Donnie had never put this many non-sports words together at one time. He’d never hit her right in the middle with the things he said.

Down on the ground level, the professor walked toward the podium with his briefcase, her elevated seat giving her the perfect view of his comb-over.

“You’ve had a change of heart in three days?” she asked, fighting for logic. She touched the keys of her laptop with shaking hands and eyed the glowing exit sign. There was no way she would make it if he moved even a quarter of the speed of that elder. She should’ve sat near the front.

“Okay, class, let’s get started, shall we?” Professor Banks fired up his PowerPoint presentation.

“Sometimes it takes an awakening,” Donnie said, his gaze rooted to her face. “I want you. Go out with me.” He brought his arm up and gently slid the back of his hand down her cheek.

Fire erupted in the wake of his touch, searing her insides. A strange haze clouded her mind.

She shook her head, trying to clear it.

“I have to focus,” Charity murmured.

“Yes. Later, then.”

Donnie settled back and swung his arm around her, letting it rest on the back of her seat. He crossed an ankle over his knee. His forgotten backpack tumbled into the space between the chair in front of him and the ground.

Girls glanced back at them with wide eyes, some sparkling with jealousy. His friends looked back, too, snickering or confused. Donnie was claiming her in public, not concerned about PDA.

It was like a dream come true housed in a waking nightmare.

The haze clouding Charity’s thoughts deepened, his presence as dangerous as it was electrifying. Twisted sheets and writhing bodies invaded her thoughts. Fingers traced the exposed skin on her neck. Glorious shivers coated her body, sucking her under.

Bing—bing.

Charity swore under her breath.

“How many times do I have to tell this class to turn off your cell phones,” Professor Banks said, looking right at her.

“Sorry! I just got it.”

Trying to clear her head over the pounding of her body, Charity pulled out her phone with trembling fingers. Donnie’s warm touch dipped to the collar of her hoodie and then traced her collarbone. God help her, she wanted his hands everywhere.





Chapter Twenty-Five





Snap out of it, Charity, she silently berated herself, trying to pull herself together. Trying to shrug off that fiery touch. The pounding of her core.

A text from Macy swam into view. Is he there?

Charity was way too young to be gawking at an electronic device like a hog looking at a wristwatch. “I need to silence this…”