Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(6)

Sam laughed, breathy and overdramatic. She was laying it on a little thick. “Dangerous?” she asked, “For you?” She laughed again. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”

His large hand touched down on the side of the door as he finally bent toward the open window. His intense gaze came into view, banging into Samantha. “Dangerous, even for me. I hear those guys spike drinks. If you go, you should stay away from the punch. I’d get out of here, if I were you.”

Sam leaned toward him, her lips curling in pleasure. “Don’t you want to come and keep me safe?”

“Good Lord,” Charity murmured, half wanting to cover her face so it was clear she wanted no part of this.

That was when his gaze darted toward her, as hard as steel and just as ruthless. Wildness lurked in those eyes, coiled and ready to be unleashed.

Charity’s chest tightened, and a cold trickle worked up her spine. For the second time that day, one word slithered through her thoughts.

Predator.

Pretty boy had teeth.

“You should turn back,” he told Charity directly, his voice rough. “That party is no place for you.” His eyes darted from her clothes to her shoes, which should’ve been hidden by the darkness, then to her wrists and her neck. Her face. A furrow creased his brow as he took in her lack of jewelry and her dusting of makeup. All Sam had lent her was the dress and shoes, asserting that no one would notice or care that Charity didn’t have bling. Given that Charity preferred not to be frosted like a cake, she hadn’t pressed.

But Samantha had been wrong—this guy noticed, and with his not-so-subtle gaze, he was telling her that she didn’t belong. She was a hobo tramp in an expensive outfit.

Usually she didn’t care what douchey rich kids thought. She laughed it off. Why not? She was proud of how far she’d come. But for some reason she didn’t understand, his intelligent gaze poked her uncomfortably. It cut through her defenses and jabbed at the core of her. The real her, where she hid her secrets and vulnerabilities. The place without any armor.

“You should go,” he said again, his tone commanding. Urgent. “Turn around. Trust me. Go home.”

“Oh my gosh.” Sam brushed his fingers with her own. He flinched back. “You’re so silly.” She pouted, complete with a protruding lower lip. “I RSVPd that I’d go. They’re counting on me.” The pout turned into a sexy smile, and Charity had to applaud Sam’s facial gymnastics. “But I promise I’ll be careful.”

“They’re not going to change their minds,” one of the guys near the Range Rover said.

Devon bent once more, looking at Charity. Appealing to her. He must’ve known, hell or high water, Samantha would go to that party, but he clearly thought Charity might heed his warning.

She didn’t understand why he cared.

“Why are you skulking around down here if you’re not going?” Charity asked him.

His stare intensified, and he shifted his weight as though he had something to say.

“Exactly. He’ll go.” Sam swept her hair from around her shoulders and set it to draping down her right side, giving him a better view for one last look at her breasts. “Won’t you?”

When he didn’t comment, Sam smiled and wiggled her fingers.

“See you inside,” she said, and rolled up the window.

“Maybe we should listen to him,” Charity said as the Porsche passed the small gathering of people. “I mean, he’s camped out down here on Killer’s Highway, warning people away. Clearly he thinks this is a bad scene.”

Samantha scoffed. “He’s just hanging out with his boys before heading to the party the rest of them weren’t invited to. He’ll go. Anyone invited to this party would be stupid to decline. The host is an internet mogul or something. He’s really well-to-do.”

That meant insanely rich.

“Okay, but does this internet mogul have a basement he likes to chain people in? Because swank party or not, that’s not an awesome way to spend a few months, you know?”

“You are so weird,” Sam said, her gaze flicking to the rearview mirror as she pulled up the drive. “Devon’s probably trying to manipulate us. But you can’t shit a bullshitter.”

“I don’t think that’s a saying.”

“He’ll show up, don’t worry. He’ll hang out with his guys, like I said, then bounce and hit the party to pick up the drunk girls.”

“There’s so much wrong with that statement…”

“I’m ready for this moment. I will go home with him tonight.”

“Okay…but you’re my ride.”

“It’s fine,” Sam said, although Charity wasn’t sure how it was fine.

Around another blind bend that must’ve resulted in more than a few accidents, Sam rolled to a stop next to a keypad. She reached out of the window and entered the code.

“You had it memorized?”

“Of course,” Sam said.

A large gate decorated with what looked like arrows shooting into the sky shuddered to a start, swinging open. The road went a ways further, down an incline, before it opened up into a large driveway. High-dollar vehicles were parked along the side, and the house, glowing excessively, lazily stretched out fifty yards in front of them. The house looked so modern that it might pass for a spaceship. A path dotted with flowers wound toward the impressive front entrance nestled between columns, welcoming the wayward traveler—if that traveler happened to own an island and a sweatshop.