Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(88)

A sheen of sweat broke out on Devon’s face, his body’s immediate response to the lingering threat. He would step up and fight that elder to protect Charity. One on one, if need be. Unfortunately, he didn’t have high hopes he’d emerge victorious—or at all.

“What’s the hold-up?” Devon asked, going over his to-do list. He still had to get supplies to board up the window by the door, not to mention call a body shop about the trashed SUV. Filling out the insurance forms would be interesting. He wasn’t sure how he’d explain the claw marks.

“Something’s not right.”

Devon checked his phone. Still no call from Roger.

Thanks to the efforts of his pack and Charity, all the newbie vamps had been extinguished. That part of his duty had been finished. The other part, protecting Charity, was looking direr. Something bad was brewing, and Vlad was building up to another all-out assault, one that would have a lot more bite. Rod had heard rumors of more demons filtering into the Brink. According to Roger, the closest passageways to the Realm had been blocked off. They had to get Charity out, but he didn’t know how.

“Didn’t you get paid?” Devon glanced over her shoulder, but he couldn’t make out the numbers.

“I mean. I don’t know. I think something went screwy.” Charity jabbed a button.

“Can I see?” Devon leaned toward her, getting a whiff of her delicious scent. Clenching his jaw, he saw $10,011.53.

“I had eleven fifty-three.” She threw a hard look at him, as if he might laugh.

“So?”

“What do you mean, so?” She thrust her hand at the monitor. “Unless you guys get ten grand biweekly, something is amiss, genius.”

Her irrational anger scraped against his.

Devon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t you read the emails? That’s the sign-on bonus. Obviously he gave it to you even though you’re on a trial. He probably wants to talk to you about ongoing pay and working full-time or whatever. You’ll get back pay, too. Why are you shaking your head?”

“Just…stop babbling for a second.” Charity shoved her palm in his face in a stop gesture. “I can’t hear myself swear.”

He ripped her hand away. “What’s the problem?”

“What am I going to do with all that money, Devon?” She almost shouted it. Magic oozed from her, something that usually happened when they fought, but more potent.

His wolf soaked it up, loving her unspoken challenge. His desire to subdue her almost had him stepping forward.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Buy things?”

“Like what? This is way too much money. I can’t accept this.”

Devon rolled his eyes. “Can you hear yourself? Just get some cash. I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re not in the mood? For what, me talking to you?”

Her magic prickled his skin. Fire burned in her eyes.

Feeding off it, he leaned into her, invading her space with his size. Pulling alpha rank. “You are freaking out over nothing. Everyone gets that starting bonus, because by the time a shifter answers the summons and arrives at the castle, they’re broke. Yes, many have family backing, but once you’re in the pack, you need to stand on your own two feet. Just take it and shut up.”

Her eyes flashed. Her jaw set.

But instead of exploding, she seemed to…relax. If not for the burning rage smoldering her gaze, he would’ve thought she’d backed down.

Shivers started at the base of his balls, usually a sign of imminent danger. The strange smell of her ancestry, spicy sweet, flared. Magic boiled from her, stronger than ever before.

What the hell is happening?

“Is that how you talk to people where you come from?” she asked in a quiet voice. His small hairs stood on end. “Where was that, again? Oh, that’s right. Upper-middle-class suburbia. Do rich people not teach respect?”

“Where I came from has nothing to do with anything. What’s your problem?”

“I’ll tell you what my problem is, Devon. You. That’s my problem. You prance around with your big house and your nice car and your big paycheck, acting like you came from nothing. Like you’re some bad-boy thug with your ripped jeans and the ever-present chip on your shoulder. Well, I came from nothing. Yet I have the decency to be nice to people. And your commitment issues? You’re just a spoiled little brat who wants to screw every skirt in sight. All guys your age do. But do they? No, because most of them would feel bad if they screwed a girl over to satisfy a craving. You have no morals. No respect for others. You’re a scared little poser who’s put out because you’re being forced to spend time with your latest conquest.”

She turned to the ATM, her anger seething around her body like a halo. Magic rolled off her, crackling. Maybe he should have set her straight, told her how he’d really felt this morning—how he felt now—but her magic prodded at his wolf while her words made fury pump into his body.

“You know what?” he spat. “You’re the scared one, Miss High and Mighty. That’s the real problem. Now you have money. You’re not poor anymore. You can buy new clothes. And that terrifies you, because now you won’t be able to blame all your problems on coming from nothing. Everything you’ve always identified with is being torn away. That’s what terrifies you about that number in your bank account. And keep me out of it. I’ve never lied about what I’m after with women. I don’t lead anyone on. You jumped me last night, not the other way around. I wasn’t preying on—”