Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(99)

“Look, here’s my hang-up,” she said, trying not to let the awkwardness of the moment affect her. There was only one thing she did have to insist on. “I’m not much of a player—obviously—and I don’t care for the game. If we’re sleeping with each other, I’d have a hard time with you seeing anyone else.”

A rush of rage and magic swept through her, and she braced against the dash, fighting it into submission. The spicy adrenaline felt so good that she wanted to cry.

Devon chuckled darkly then sobered. “Hey, are you okay? I wouldn’t do that to you, Charity. I’m a dick, but I’m not a complete jackass. I’ve never juggled women. It’s always been one at a time. It just never lasted—”

“Stop,” she said as he pulled into the driveway, clutching her seat and gritting her teeth. Electricity ran along her skin. Light danced before her eyes. “Don’t talk… I need…”

She groped for the door handle and half fell out of the Jeep, staggering toward the trees and taking a big whiff of fresh, forest-rich air. Sometimes it was the only thing that would calm her.

Her magic tore at her, begging to be used. Not able to stand the pressure, she thrust her hands into the sky and let it come.

Sparks and light showered down, brighter than the afternoon sun. Electricity sizzled through the air before it concussed, exploding out toward the trees. Sparks caught in the branches and dried grass. Embers flared. Flames danced.

“Oh God,” she said, euphoric and horrified at the same time. “I’ll burn the whole—”

Shockingly, the flames shrank then died. The smoke curled then cleared away. Her light show dimmed until it faded.

“Oh,” she said, amazingly not weak like she had been after the battle. Still feeling pretty great, actually. Strong. Too powerful. “I guess the magic just…goes away.”

“Nope.”

Only then did Charity notice the small collection of people standing outside of Devon’s house, staring at her. Roger waited among them, standing next to a slouching, pretty brunette who didn’t fool Charity. She might look small and fragile, but Charity didn’t want to be on the wrong end of whatever she could do. Beside her stood a tall, broad man with a curious expression and hard, ruthless eyes. If he’d been walking toward her in her old neighborhood in Chicago, she would’ve ducked into an alley, jumped in a dumpster to hide, and hoped for the best.

A blonde woman stepped forward, drawing Charity’s gaze with her over-the-top confidence, scuffed leather pants that looked like they’d been through hell and back, combat boots, and beat-up fanny pack.

“I figured I’d lend a hand,” the woman said, gesturing at the trees. “You looked like you were having a moment. I didn’t want a forest fire to interrupt it.”

The way she held herself, rough and loose, spoke of an experienced, nonchalant fighter. Her smile held easy humor and her eyes sparked crazy. This woman had led a hard life of violence. If Charity were in that dumpster, hiding from the man, this woman would find her and fish her out. The gun strapped to her thigh, the throwing knives in the ankle brace, and the sword peeking out behind her were all overkill.

“Who are these people?” she asked Devon, who had caught up to her.

“It’s a long story,” Devon said. “Basically, we helped them take on an organization called the Mages’ Guild, which had gone corrupt.” Gesturing to the terrifying blonde, he added, “She’s the one Vlad is respectfully wary of, Reagan Somerset. And for good reason—her magic is insane. As is she. She drinks a bunch of whiskey and chases shifters around New Orleans. Anyway, because we helped them, Penny, the brunette, agreed to help us.”

“That’s not why we agreed.” Reagan walked toward a sleek red SUV parked in the driveway. She opened the back, flashing Charity the emblem.

“Since when did Ferrari start making SUVs?” she asked despite herself.

“I know, right?” Reagan huffed. “Sellouts. This one hasn’t released to the general public yet. I’m only driving it because it’s Moss’s new car, and he’s going to be pissed it was stolen.”

“Wait,” Penny said, “that’s Moss’s? Did my mother put you up to this?”

“Yup,” Reagan replied with a smirk.

“Who is Mo—”

“Got something for ya,” Reagan cut Charity off, pulling out a long parcel wrapped in a burlap sack.

“It’s easier if you roll with it,” Devon told Charity softly, his hand on her back.

“Roll with what?” Charity asked.

“Us.” Reagan strode toward them, holding the parcel out in front of her. “Well, Penny, to be precise. She wears on you at first, but eventually she redeems herself.”

“Her jokes never get any better,” Penny said.

Reagan laughed. “Why improve upon perfection?” She stopped in front of Charity. “I’m Reagan, the happily insane one. Damn glad to meet you. You have a long, crazy road ahead of you, but what an introduction to your mettle, huh? I was hanging on the edge of my seat, listening to Roger recount the story.” She pushed the parcel out a little more. “Dizzy made this for you.” Clearly seeing Charity’s confused look, she said, “A dual-mage friend of mine. It seems Roger isn’t nearly as cheap as we all thought.”