Fairyville (Fairyville #1)(66)
Author: Emma Holly

"About time," huffed Mrs. Pruitt, as if he and Bryan were late for an appointment.

"Mrs. Pruitt," Alex said, going into soother mode.

"Oh, can it," said Mrs. Pruitt. "Your nicey-nice GQ manners are about as much use to me as that damn report."

"Your case is hardly straightforward," Alex reminded her. "We’re doing what we can."

"What you can!" she repeated, the words sharp enough to catch the attention of nearby guests. She lowered her voice, though her temper clearly remained at full volume. "And while you do what you can, what am I supposed to do with him? Ever since we went to you for help, he’s been worse than ever. Yesterday, he rolled my grocery cart to the ice cream section without touching it. People were staring. I thought I was going to die!"

"I didn’t mean to," little Oscar whispered. "You said I could have a Fudgsicle."

It was such a typical kid complaint, Alex almost smiled. He lost the urge when Mrs. Pruitt closed her eyes and began to shake.

"Maybe we should take this conversation to our room," Bryan suggested, seeing that, for whatever reason, the end of Mrs. Pruitt’s rope had been reached.

Oscar’s mother fisted her hands a little tighter. "No," she said, firm and low. "I’m not going one step farther with this freak of nature. You think my life is straightforward? You try living yours with him around your neck."

"Mommy!" Oscar gasped, almost as shocked as Alex and Bryan.

Mrs. Pruitt flinched, not quite as hard-hearted as she appeared. She knelt before the boy.

"It will be all right," she said, smoothing her hands down his Superman T-shirt. "These nice men are going to take care of you. Don’t give them any trouble, and you’ll be fine."

Two fat tears rolled down Oscar’s cheeks.

"Shit," said Bryan. "Mrs. Pruitt, you really can’t do this."

Her lips were shaking, but her eyes were as cool as Siberia. "Watch me," she said, and strode stiffly to the revolving door.

"Stop her," Bryan pleaded, but Alex took one look at Oscar and decided he’d better not.

The boy was trembling worse than his mother, his gaze glued to his Wile E. Coyote sneakers, his breath hitching as he fought not to cry harder than he was. Those yellow shoes didn’t look so bad to Alex today. They looked like something you might want to wear, if you needed cheering up.

"I’m sorry," Oscar said in a quavery voice. His big blue eyes spilled over as they met Alex’s. "I tried to stay happy, I really did, but I just can’t do it anymore."

Alex scooped him up and held him tight against his shoulder.

"She can’t just leave him," Bryan murmured, though she obviously had. His hand came to rest beneath where Alex’s was rubbing Oscar’s back. "What are we supposed to do with him?"

"Keep him safe," Alex answered. "For as long as we have to."

Oscar’s head bobbled back to look at him, his tears beginning to dry as he decided whether he ought to believe this assurance. Alex felt like he was staring into a blurred mirror. How had this kid kept it together? How had he stayed happy when the person whose love he should have been able to take for granted kept telling him he was unlovable?

"You’re a good kid," Alex said. "I know you are."

Oscar gnawed his lip and nodded unsurely. Alex prayed he wasn’t going to cry again. Alex was the youngest in his family. Child care really wasn’t in his box of tricks.

"Do you like kittens?" he asked, inspiration—or possibly desperation—striking out of the blue. "Because one of my good friends has a kitten, and I bet he’d love to meet you."

"His good friend also has a kitchen," Bryan added wryly, "and a guest room with an empty bed."

Alex and Bryan exchanged rueful looks. No matter what else was going on, they knew Zoe would help them. She was much too tenderhearted to turn a boy like Oscar away.

Magnus drank a pint of orange juice, ate three Pop Tarts, then took a rather gruesome shower, during which he pulled out the remaining arrows. Zoe sat on the toilet lid while he did this, incapable of helping except to wince and make sure he didn’t slip or faint. The swiftness of his recovery amazed her. By the end of the shower he was no longer bleeding, and could walk—albeit slowly—under his own power. Despite him seeming to be out of danger, she knew she wouldn’t relax until she had him out of his home and into hers.

Magnus didn’t protest her nesting impulse, just handed her the keys to his 4×4 and let her drive.

Once she had him at her place, she settled him on the overstuffed saddle leather couch in her living room, covering him with one of the quilts her Nana Sonia had stitched. He smiled through her fussing, his eyes sleepy but fond, his big, smooth muscles looking relaxed.

Seeing a nap was about to happen, and not wanting to miss out, Corky scrambled up the quilt to join him.

"I’d sleep better with my head in your lap," Magnus pointed out, his hand swallowing the kitten as he petted it.

"Oh, would you?" Zoe said, but she didn’t mind scooting onto the couch under him.

He had his shirt unbuttoned and, though none of his wounds still bled, he was all over bruises, as if his body were a steak someone had been trying to tenderize. Zoe traced the edges of his wounds with her fingertips, aghast at the thought of what she’d almost lost. If they’d arrived a minute later… if she’d let Bryan convince her to return to the car…

An unexpected moan had Zoe pulling back her hand.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"You didn’t." Amused lines fanned around his eyes. "It’s just, if you keep touching me like that, I’m going to have more aches than I already do." He lifted his h*ps in explanation, drawing her eyes to the not-so-subtle hump forming under the quilt.

"Oh," she said. Heat lapped through her in a torrid wave. "I would have thought you’d be too…"

He pressed her hand to a spot just beneath his ribs, keeping it in place with his. "Fairies like a lot of sex, Zoe, Need it, if it comes to that. We have a saying that if a fairy on his deathbed can’t get it up, you know he’s truly passed."

"But I thought—" She wasn’t sure what she thought, because her head wasn’t really working. Lucidly, Magnus understood.

"Zoe, had it been possible, I would have happily, gratefully, delightedly spent every urge I had on you. You are the only woman I want in my bed."

"So when you only had sex once a month—"

"I was holding back."

"Because of me. Because you didn’t want to hurt me by ha**ng s*x as often as you normally would."