Page 16 of Fae Divided
“You trust me to return to Walker Pack territory?” James’ words were garbled as he was unable to retract his canines. His throat vibrated with deep guttural sounds he couldn’t contain. “I could contact my brother-in-law. Give your name and this location to your littermate.”
“You won’t.” He shrugged. “You’re too smart for that.”
James found it hard to step away, to release the arrogant Alpha. Grayson had known about the attack on Chess and was indirectly responsible for putting his truemate in danger. Something he wouldn’t forgive. “How do you figure? I could be a spy. Sending me home is the perfect opportunity to give you up.”
“Maybe.” He finished his beer in one swallow. Crushed the empty can and threw it in the stained sink. “But even if that’s true, you don’t know enough to reveal more than my name and those of a few outcasts. This farmhouse is only one of many hidden bases the rebellion owns. Think about it, Reed. What have you really learned in the last month?” He smiled, showing blunt teeth. The charismatic male returning in full force and in perfect command of his wolf. “Me. That’s it. And what you haven’t realized yet is that I’m untouchable.”
“No one’s untouchable, Grayson.” And what—or who—was responsible for his overconfidence?
“We’ll see.” His lips tipped in another cocky grin. “You should be in a bigger hurry to leave. It’s been a long time since you’ve been inside your female.”
“Shut the hell up,” he said, seething.
“Go,” Grayson said, tightness creeping into his eyes. “Before I’m forced to keep you from leaving.”
“I need the keys to my truck.” Keys they’d never returned.
“Nah,” he said, opening the white refrigerator and swiping another beer. “Cameron will drive you.”
“I thought you had faith in me.”
“I do.” His brow creased with lines of strain—of pain? “But I’m not stupid.”
No, no, he was not.
James waited outside for Cameron to take him home.
Chapter 8
Sarah wrung theexcess water from her hair and stepped out of the shower. Grabbing a warm towel from the heated rack, she wrapped it tightly around her body and glanced at the cellphone on the counter.
2:00 AM.
After the doors of the nightclub were pried open, the stink of dark magic quickly dissipated. The afflicted Dádhe returned to awareness amid screaming humans, wolves snapping at their heels, and wary witches. They were confused, horrified, and covered in blood—fresh and tainted.
Sarah stayed until well past midnight, offering words of comfort along with a sympathetic shoulder to the traumatized victims. Human and nonhuman. The Dádhe were as much a casualty of the evil committed at Chess as the Untouched.
The Memphis police chief didn’t see it that way.
Queen Rose granted the MPD and the city’s emergency workers unprecedented access to the island once the Guard regained control. While paramedics worked alongside Anwyll healers to treat the injured, and the human officers began the orderly evacuation of the shell-shocked patrons gathered outside Chess, Chief Pennington argued for the arrest of every Dádhe in the club on assault charges.
Mud Island was considered sovereign ground, akin to a foreign embassy or an independent state. The Touched population obeyed the laws of their American hosts when on US property but held diplomatic-like status if caught committing a crime there. Samuel and the Guard were exclusively responsible for policing the ESC Region’s magical community—the human authorities possessing even less leverage when on land allocated by the Fae Accord.
The queen flatly refused hisrequestto take her people into custody, and the distraught Dádhe were finally released and escorted home. The few vampires that resided off-island were given a room at the Queenstown Inn, the queen fearing for their safety as news of the disaster at Chess hit the airwaves.
Sarah took a smaller towel to her wet hair, scrubbing vigorously.
It made no sense. Wasn’t there already enough fear and prejudice between the two species? What were they—whoever they were—trying to accomplish by setting up the Dádhe? An innocent could have been killed if not for the quick actions of her pack and the witches. Sarah shuddered at the thought. The repercussions for an unprovoked death of a human by a Fae Touched were too dire for her weary mind to contemplate.
She was exhausted and looked it. Lack of sleep had produced perpetual blue shadows beneath her eyes. Her complexion was sallow instead of naturally sun-kissed. Blond hair looked dull and brittle. And Samuel was right; she was nearer to skinny than slender, collarbones jutting above the towel tucked snuggly around her torso.
“James, please come home to me,” she whispered to her reflection in the mirror. The profound yearning for her truemate hurt her heart, his loss an ever-expanding hole pressing painfully against her ribs.
She sighed and tossed both used towels into the hamper. Retrieving a white terrycloth robe from the hook on the door, she slipped it on and loosely knotted the belt, not bothering with panties.
Sarah hadn’t owned a pair of pajamas in thirty years. Several sexy negligees were folded in her dresser for special occasions, but Ferwyn required the skin on skin touch of their mates to remain healthy and always slept naked. It was a difficult habit to break, although lately, she’d taken to sleeping in James’ old t-shirts. A poor replacement for warm arms, but it was all she had until her Ca’anam returned.
Getting a hairbrush from the vanity drawer, she worked out the tangles and then plaited the damp mane into a single braid. It would take energy to blow it dry, and she had none to spare. Her eyelids drooped while brushing her teeth, and she decided to skip the rest of her nightly routine and head to bed. Sarah couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this tired.
