Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(98)

“I was waiting for you to double down and ask what was for dinner again.”

“Shut up.” Rod stepped away. “Like you don’t want to know.”

Charity laughed at their antics, starting forward. “Roger is staying for dinner, I think. He’s bringing that crew to fix the ward and read our fortunes or something. I don’t know; I stopped listening when Devon started to fuss. Anyway, I’d planned to do a—”

“Ah crap.” Andy blew out his breath and stared at Rod for a moment, who stared back. He shook his head. “I forgot all that was happening tonight. I’m out, bro. The joy of eating Charity’s food will be totally sucked out of the room with Roger lording over everything. Then there’s Alder. Whenever he looks at me, I get the feeling he wants to cut my ear off.”

“What?” Charity asked, unexpectedly spitting out laughter. “Why—”

“Yeah, I see that,” Rod said, nodding seriously. “Or some other extremity.”

“You guys are crazy.” Charity pulled her backpack strap a little higher, trying to stop it from digging into her shoulder.

“Here.” Rod grabbed the top strap and peeled it off her back. “I got that.”

“First useful thing you’ve done all day,” Andy said.

“You’re going to get a thump if you keep it up,” Rod shot back.

They took a turn around the path, and the area opened up. Charity spied Devon off to the side, sitting on a bench with his head down over his phone. Her stomach flipped before it filled with butterflies. Her core pooled with heat. Two weeks since they’d told each other they had feelings, and still she got nervous when she saw him. Nervous, and desperate for his touch.

Her chest constricted as they got closer and he looked up. A smile flashed across his handsome face, and two passing gals slowed to gawk their approval.

A rush of jealousy filled Charity with fire. She took a deep breath to quell her raging magic.

Devon’s smile burned brighter. He thought her possessiveness was hilarious, mostly because she thought his jealousy absurd. Logically, she knew jealousy stemmed from trust issues, and she didn’t have those. At all. But she couldn’t control herself. If a girl flirted with Devon, stared too hard, or even stood too close, magic dumped into Charity’s body and she wanted to cut a bitch. Then burn her house down. Then pull up her flower bed and plant cactuses. It was ludicrous. Absolutely nuts.

And yet it would not go away.

It wasn’t the only thing that wouldn’t go away. She flew off the handle a lot. Something triggered her, or nothing triggered her, and suddenly magic flooded her, urging her to reach for the closest sharp thing. It couldn’t be natural, something she kept trying to tell Roger. She could regain control with effort, but it was getting harder, the magical surges stronger. Sometimes, the only outlet that helped was sparring with Devon. The furniture had all been broken and glued back together by now. Thankfully, the bed was sturdy, or that would’ve broken in the naked aftermath of her magic-fueled temper.

“It’s weird when he smiles,” Rod murmured to Andy. “It makes me think he’s about ready to attack me.”

“Who, Roger?” Andy asked.

“No—well, him, too, but I meant Devon,” Rod answered.

“He might. Even with Charity to even him out a little, he’s still a moody SOB.”

“You guys—” Charity huffed out more laughter at their absurdity.

“Hey,” Devon said, walking toward them.

“Hey,” she replied, and she knew she had a goofy smile on her face.

“How was your class?” Devon slipped an arm around her shoulders.

They talked about nothing much, keeping it light and easy, as they made their way to the loaner Jeep. Devon’s SUV was still in the shop, the establishment apparently owned by a shifter who wasn’t employed by Roger. He specialized in making up reasons for things like claw marks in the paint.

After Andy and Rod made excuses to get out of dinner that night and parted ways with Charity and Devon, they got in the car and headed home. A moment passed, then Devon cleared his throat.

“Charity, listen,” he said. “What we have… What we’re… I wanted to tell you—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Charity put out her hand. She’d suspected this was coming, what with Roger breathing down their necks, hinting about opening up and throwing around the L-word. Yeah, right, like that hard-ass alpha ever talked about what made him tick. He certainly hadn’t given Devon any advice on how to go about it, because the start of this chat was going as awkwardly as Charity had assumed it would.

This wasn’t any of Roger’s business. It wasn’t anyone’s business. Devon didn’t have any experience with attachments or relationships. He’d rebuilt his whole life after the summons, and he’d done so around the idea of himself as the solitary alpha. Even though that idea might not fit as snugly as it used to, he still had a lot of baggage to unpack. Baggage he had to fold up and put away by himself.

Charity would be damned if she’d hurry him up while he remade the man he was. The process would take time and go through many hiccups. If there were labels slapped on things, and expectations, and hills to climb, it would only take longer. Plus, she had her own issues to sort out.

No, for right now, as she settled into this new life, she liked things exactly as they were. They liked each other, they were dating—they didn’t need any L-word complications. They had enough complications with all the times she randomly went crazy and tried to kill him. Luckily, he just viewed it as exercise.