Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(73)

Without thinking, he dipped his lips to hers, connecting softly. His stomach filled with surprising lightness, rolling and twisting and exploding into a swarm of butterflies. He opened his mouth, feeling her lips respond. He darted his tongue in, sampling. He was instantly rewarded with a complex taste more pleasing than her smell. Sweetness curled around his senses, transfixing him.

He applied more pressure, his tongue now indulgent and insistent. Suddenly, he needed her. He couldn’t explain it, or even understand it, but a part of him needed to merge his body with hers. It was as if he was half finished, and only she could round him out.

But he wasn’t ready to lose this longing for her. This feeling was deep and primal. These urges and desires burrowed down to his roots, and he liked the feel of them. He liked the depth. He liked the…completeness. He wasn’t ready to sex that away.

He backed off, smiling when she clung to him. He eased her back down, wincing as he did so. Lord, his body hurt. That was another reason this was a bad idea. She’d probably think he sucked in bed because he could barely move.

As he finished getting comfortable, she shifted as well, staying entwined with him but dropping her head to his chest. She took a deep, satisfied breath. He matched it as he slid his arm around her, hugging her close. He let her proximity and comfort soak into him as he drifted back to sleep.

One thing was infinitely clear: she was his. She belonged in his pack. He would not let any harm come to her. He’d die before that vamp took her.





Chapter Thirty-Two





The breakfast potatoes were starting to turn golden brown when Charity caught movement at the edge of the kitchen. Devon lumbered in, nowhere near his usual graceful self. With a wince, he lowered himself into a chair.

“How do you feel?” she asked, glancing at his defined chest. The vivid memory of their sleepy kiss rolled around her brain. It had felt sinfully good. Almost too good. She remembered running her hand up his body, feeling a strange sort of buzz, not to mention his hardness on her thigh as she snuggled closer.

Heat pulsed low, this time not her magic.

She cleared her throat. There was no place in her life, or his, for that sort of nonsense.

“Sore, but good.” He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“I can’t believe how fast you heal.”

He eyed the steaming pans on the stove. “Thanks again. For coming back for me.”

“What was I supposed to do, leave you with those things? They were fast!”

Devon snorted. “Understatement. Did you make coffee?”

“Don’t drink it. Didn’t think to make it.”

Devon groaned and dropped his head onto his forearms. “That sucks.”

Charity leaned across the counter and slid open a window so the steam could get out. When she turned back to her cooking, Devon said, “We need to talk about your class tonight.”

She’d suspected this conversation was coming. Normally, she’d agree that only a fool would go to a late class after the events of the previous night. Unfortunately, she had a very important test tonight, and it was too late to make other plans. She couldn’t afford to lose her scholarship. Some things were worth the risk, although she doubted Devon would agree.

So she sidetracked him.

“You aren’t going to get up and make yourself coffee?” She braced her spatula hand on her hip like a disgruntled housewife talking to a lazy child.

“Please don’t badger me right now. I’m not up for it.”

Charity rolled her eyes, turned a burner to low, and headed to the coffee pot. If he didn’t have his coffee he’d be ten times grumpier, and given how grumpy he was on a good day, the difference could be dramatic.

“I don’t think you should go tonight,” he said, his head still on his arms.

“I have to. I have a test that counts for a third of my grade.”

“Get him to give it to you in his office.”

“It’s too late for that. He has strict rules about test taking. The only way he’d let me out of it is if I were unconscious in the hospital.”

“No problem. As soon as I get some food, I’ll knock you out. We’re all set.”

She huffed out a laugh and grabbed two plates from the cupboard. He must be feeling really sore and tired to be so nonchalant about the situation.

“But seriously,” he said, his head back on his arms. “We can figure out a way around it. I’m sure Roger would intervene.”

“Roger is very important to your world.” Charity dished up two plates. “He doesn’t have any clout with the school. He doesn’t even have a real job, as far as the normal world is concerned.”

“Right, yeah,” he said, pushing back against the chair. He winced and scratched a puckered wound on his ribs.

“Do shifters scar?” She set his plate in front of him.

“Charity, this looks delicious.” She handed him some flatware. “Not unless the wound is really bad, no. After we get the summons, that is. Any scars we get before that are for life.”

“Were your wounds bad enough?”

He cut through an egg, paused as the yolk crawled into the potatoes, and looked down at his chest. A small smile graced his lips. “Do you like your men with scars? Or do you prefer them without?”