Page 23 of Fae Divided
“I’m sorry,” Simmons gasped for air, grappling with clawed fingers against the unyielding stranglehold.
Grayson’s upper lip curled in a sneer. The veins in his forearm bulged. The muscle in his jaw ticked, scar tissue blanched. Blood dripped from the gouges on his hand.
“Please—” Simmons sputtered, face turning a sickly shade of purple. Drool seeped between the gaps in his fangs.
The air crackled with unrestrained power.
James tensed, ready to intervene. The biting tang of pinewood burned his nostrils.
Grayson let Simmons drop.
The punishing pressure in the room abruptly dispersed as though a ripcord had been pulled, releasing his rage. Grayson wiped the blood from his already healed hand onto his jeans and set the fallen chair to rights on his return to the stove. “Rare?”
“What?” James blinked, his interest switching from the shifter racked with dry heaves on the floor to the male calmly awaiting his reply.
“How do you like your steak?” Grayson asked, dark eyes sparkling with amusement as he spun the flat-bottomed skillet like a basketball on a bloodstained finger.
“Medium rare.”
“Kid?” he asked, slapping the frying pan on the hot burner and adding a stick of butter.
“Same.” Simmons managed a hoarse reply, fighting to regain his feet. It would take him and his crushed larynx a few more minutes to completely recover.
“Coffee ready yet?” Grayson asked,
James nodded, turning his back on the Alpha. He poured three cups, the hair lifting on his arms and nape.
The Ferwyn race didn’t suffer from disease or mental illness, yet Jeremiah Grayson was unequivocally batshit crazy.
Chapter 11
Abby was missing.
Sarah was sure of it because for the past three days, Samuel’s distress had been bleeding with regularity into her consciousness.
All Alphas were proficient at manipulating the emotional ebbs and flows of their packs. The magical ties inherent with the role were essential in sustaining a structured hierarchy among dominance-based predators with innately volatile personalities. But unlike the singular link between truemates, an Alpha was tied to dozens, hundreds—or in a príoh’s case—thousands of bonded clanmates and dealt with psychic backlash daily. Her brother’s unprecedented inability to block his fear and worry from the pack was proof Abby hadn’t left willingly.
Sarah stuck the prepaid phone purchased for James into the side of her bra. The burner was the slimmest she could find but still left a noticeable bulge underneath her left arm. After two weeks plastered against her skin, the cheap cellphone’s smell should be indiscernible from her natural scent. A scent the nose-sensitive shifter waiting for James in the hotel parking lot would expect and not question.
If it weren’t for the mating bond, even muted by distance, Sarah would be terrified for James’ safety. The steady connection eased her mind about the danger he faced every day as an untrusted agent, but that could change in an instant.
“And I still might be left in the dark,” she mumbled, untucking her blouse and letting the fabric hang loose to better conceal the unexplainable lump.
James was an expert at masking his feelings. If he thought it was necessary for Sarah’s protection, he’d obstruct the bond without hesitation—promise or no promise. But even if she did sense trouble before he invariably shut it down, there was nothing she could do to help him. No amount of cajoling, begging, or threats had convinced James to reveal his location.
“Obstinate Ferwyn males, every single one.” Sarah grabbed the golf cart keys from the kitchen counter and slammed the door behind her, not bothering to lock it. Many of her neighbors had helped develop the once muddy sandbar into a thriving magical community and took immense pride in being the East South Central Region’s seat of power. Crime wasn’t an issue among the island’s residents.
Sarah chose the locals’ favored mode of transportation for the quick drive to the Harbor Complex. She would have walked the short distance, but it was beastly hot even though the sun had set over an hour ago. The open-air conveyance might not be fast, but it’d get her where she needed to be relatively sweat-free. The decision seemed prudent with a plastic phone sitting directly underneath her armpit.
The bay doors on the east side of the u-shaped structure housing the Guard’s fleet of vehicles were raised, so she parked nearby and entered the complex through the large garage.
Noah had lived in an apartment on the second floor of the multi-functional building since reaching his majority and joining the region’s Fae Touched law enforcement team. Despite growing into a male who rarely took anything seriously, Noah following in his sire’s and uncle’s footsteps was inevitable. The top-level dominance measured at his first conversion from infant to wolf practically guaranteed he’d become a warrior someday. That day had come.
Smiling at the Anwyll mechanic tinkering beneath the raised hood of an armored black Escalade, Sarah breezed past the row of closed office doors and into the main hallway. The Guard’s lounge and adjoining game room on her left were occupied by several clanmates enjoying their break. She waved at both groups but kept walking.
The Riverfront Café was crowded, but she spotted Noah right away. Blond hair in desperate need of a haircut framed brown eyes gleaming with mischief, her son’s contagious laughter echoing from the rear of the small eatery.
Hop’s ferocious scowl was a comical counterpoint to Noah’s merriment.
