Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(8)

That wasn’t any better.

“Can’t save ’em if they don’t want to be saved,” Rod, the largest of the pack, said as he glanced up the dark drive.

Rod was right. The chick had made her choice. Devon couldn’t do anything about it now. They’d set up shop dangerously close, and if he approached the house too soon, he’d alert the vampires. They had to wait a couple of hours, and by then, everyone who’d drunk the turning potion would be as good as gone.

“When’s this going to go down, again?” Rod asked, digging his hands into his pockets and turning away.

Anticipation ran through Devon. This was his first big changing party. His first real chance to prove himself to Roger, the alpha of the North American region. Devon needed everything to go perfectly. He needed his pack to be on top of their game.

“I was told two or three,” Devon answered, breathing through the flip-flopping of his belly. He had to stop thinking about the stakes. It was messing with his head. “Roger doesn’t think Vlad knows we’re on to him. Vlad apparently hopes this party will go like the one he threw in Europe two months ago.”

The European pack had recently lost their alpha when a powerful mage had up and ripped the shifter out of him. No one had even known that was possible, but from that time onward, Europe had been scrambling to place someone new. Powerful shifters from across the region kept trying to fight their way to the top, disturbing the lesser packs and sending everything into disarray.

Despite a short-lived truce between the shifters and vampires, formed for a collective storming of the Mages’ Guild’s compound, Vlad hadn’t hesitated to take advantage of the upheaval in Europe. He’d waltzed in, changed twenty people right under the shifters’ noses, and then waltzed back out, unscathed.

But this was the North American region, and Santa Cruz was Devon’s territory. Despite being part of the team that had collaborated with Vlad for the Mages’ Guild compound, he wasn’t about to stand back so their former ally could waltz into his territory and make new vamps. Finding out about the party had been a stroke of luck—the bastard had been cocky enough to send out paper invitations to girls that couldn’t help bragging. Alerting Roger of it had earned Devon this emergency detail. His pack’s job was to stand guard until Roger arrived with his crew. The more experienced shifters would then take out the middle-tier vamps and go head to head with Vlad, while Devon and his pack headed off and discharged any newbie vamps. They’d make sure Vlad’s attempts to increase his numbers failed.

A pity they had to wait until the changing process was underway, but Devon knew his limitations. He couldn’t take on the elder without Roger. Even Roger would be hard-pressed to take on Vlad with his last-minute, thrown-together team. They had to wait until the vamps were at their weakest. Besides which, making new vampires was a crime, but hosting a party was not. They had to catch Vlad in the act.

He checked his phone for the umpteenth time. No service. They’d have no way of communicating with Roger. Vlad had found a perfect spot to turn new vamps. No cell service, a long private drive attached to a one-way road, no neighbors for miles. He was trapping his victims until they became his allies.

Devon’s mind drifted back to that gal. Soon she’d be cut off, too. She’d be trapped in a house with a host of hungry vampires.





Chapter Five





Samantha’s dainty fingers curled around an ornate knocker resting on the wide double door. Apparently the invitation had said to use the knocker rather than the doorbell.

“I have to say, despite the remote location, this house is pretty sweet,” Charity whispered, breathing in the fresh floral scent from the many flowers lining the walkway behind them. She rubbed her arms, trying to shake off the strange tingling that had started once they passed through the perimeter gates. It had only gotten worse as they approached the house. “Feels a bit creepy, though, doesn’t it?”

“Shh. Don’t embarrass me.” Sam banged the knocker against the solid wood.

“You’re using a gargoyle door knocker on a state-of-the-art, modern house, and you’re worried about me embarrassing you?”

Samantha banged the knocker a second time before stepping away and fussing with the hem of her dress. It wasn’t going to get any lower.

Metal tinkled before the door swung open, revealing a young man in his twenties with a pale, handsome face and a flawless complexion. His acute gaze hit Samantha first, then stalled on Charity.

“You smell ravishing,” he said, hunger lighting his eyes.

Charity frowned. She hadn’t put on any perfume, mostly because she didn’t own any, and she hadn’t showered since morning. She had no idea what this guy might be smelling on her, especially since Sam smelled like a perfume factory after an earthquake. Surely one whiff of Sam would deaden his senses.

“Thanks,” she said in a doubtful tone.

“Please.” He stepped to the side and swung his arm toward the interior. “Come in.”

“Thank you.” Samantha gave the man a winning smile and brushed her hair to her back as she passed him, her shiny blonde tresses adding movement to her slow saunter. He didn’t notice.

“Your house is absolutely lovely.” Sam half turned back, her eyes glittering suggestively. “I’m Samantha, by the way. You can call me Sam.”