Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(89)

He cut off suddenly when her eyes flashed blue, like an overexposed picture. It wasn’t a human eye color.

Before he could ask about it, she said, very softly, “If I were you, I would leave now.”

Fear wormed through his anger. For the first time in his life, he experienced the flight side of a fight-or-flight response. Her magic was messing with her. Seeping out of her. She was absurdly powerful, and the wild side of him was proud that she’d managed to scare him.

Still, he did step away. He didn’t want to get blasted across the sidewalk.

That possibility brought out a bravado he didn’t feel and quickly regretted. “I’ll be down the street taking care of some things. We’ll meet up in a few hours. I’ll text you. Why don’t you take all your riches and fix yourself up?”

She sucked in a breath, and then her face took on a frightening mask of rage.

Oops.

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes flashing chalk-blue again. Prickles spread across his skin, like he was being jabbed with a thousand little needles. Magic gushed from her in a flood, the air around her crackling with it.

Before he could apologize, she took her cash, nodded, turned, and strode away.

He let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

That hadn’t gone well. He’d been a dick—she should’ve thrown a punch, or tried to kick him in the balls. He deserved it.

But he would not initiate that fight. Instead, he stalked off down the street in the other direction, unnerved by the leap in her magic and disgusted with himself. He dug out his phone, scratched off a clump of dirt from where he’d dropped it last night, and called Roger again. Things were changing with her, fast, and the elder’s interest would only increase. They needed to get moving.





Chapter Forty





Still angry, but also a little humbled, Charity raised her chin as she strolled down the street. She hated to admit it, but Devon had been right about a lot of things. Her mother would have killed to have so much money. Charity could get a whole new wardrobe. She could eat out and shop at the grocery store without keeping a mental tally of the total.

It was freeing…but it also meant that if the kids at school still scoffed at her, it was because of her personality, not because of an upbringing she couldn’t control. If she wasn’t liked, it would be because she wasn’t likable. It was irritating that in such a short time, Devon had come to know her so well.

He was also right about everything that had gone down between them, the jerk. He had been crystal clear in his stance on dating. She’d known exactly where she stood going in, and she’d been okay with that in the moment.

It wasn’t exactly that she had regrets, because she didn’t. She’d cherished every second of last night. She just wished it was only about sex for her, as it so clearly was for him.

Well, you live, you learn, Charity.



A few hours later, Charity had a few bags and was riddled with fatigue. While her shopping efforts had been fruitful, she was really tired of looking at herself in the mirror. Trying on clothes was never fun.

Not having heard from Devon, she found herself wandering down the street, looking in shop windows. She should call him, but the stubborn part of her wasn’t going to chase after him like some lovesick puppy.

She glanced into a picture shop selling artistic photographs, art, and frames. The picture of her mother flashed through her mind. If there was one thing Charity wanted that money could buy, besides information on her mother’s whereabouts, it was a frame for her mom’s picture.

She hesitated in the doorway, looking in, and caught sight of a beautiful blonde standing close to a familiar man.

Heartbeat increasing with each moment, she stepped into the shop, her bags crinkling in her tightening fists. Devon’s face pointed down at Yasmine, his body mere inches away from hers. Yasmine laughed and reached forward to play with a button between the swell of Devon’s pecs.

A yawning cavern opened up inside Charity, the same sensation she’d experienced earlier with Devon. Molten lava bubbled out of it and filled her entire body to bursting. Electricity rolled and surged, straining within the confines of her skin. Sparks flew off her arms and even her fingers like a cloud of glitter. The desperate need for violence took over her being, urging her to find a sword so she could cut off Yasmine’s head in the fastest, most gruesome way possible. Her body brimmed with it, a surging power that threatened to tear loose and bring this whole building to the ground.

Devon and Yasmine startled before looking up with wide eyes.

Logic screamed for Charity to calm down, but her fingers itched for the knife at her belt.

So this is what jealousy feels like. Like teetering on the precipice of a huge killing spree. I need to apologize to Macy.

“Charity, good, I was just about to text you,” Devon said, turning toward her.

Too late, Mr. Smooth Operator.

“Time to go,” Charity said in a flat tone. Yasmine’s stupid gloating face was not helping. Charity wished she could cut that face off and wear it like a mask, Hannibal-style.

“Yes,” Devon said, his eyes bearing into her.

“We’re going to your house tonight, right, Devon?” Yasmine asked in that dumb, silky voice. She gave him a knowing look.

Charity stepped forward before she could stop herself, her fingers at her belt line.