Wicked (A Wicked Saga #1)(13)
Author: J. Lynn

He was standing with his side to me, out in front of the cigar shop. A human male was with him, and it was just the massive size of the fae that made the human look like a strong wind could blow him the rest of the way to the square. He was strung out, frail, and sickly looking as he stood beside the fae, itching at the skin above the day’s growth of beard. The fae who shot me turned, his back to me, and the human tried to follow but stumbled off the curb and fell, cracking his knees on the road.

That was the effect of a fae feeding off a mortal’s essence, slowing stripping away their life until nothing but dust and bones was left behind.

The fae didn’t even look back at the mortal as he started walking down Orleans, toward Royal. I picked up my pace as the guy managed to stand. Disoriented, he turned in a wide circle until he spotted the fae several feet ahead. He lurched after him like a lost puppy—an unfed, flea-infested puppy.

So incredibly wrong.

Fury rose in me as swiftly as a fierce storm blowing in. My hands curled into fists, and my blood boiled with anger. My entire being was focused on the bastard as I stalked forward. I made it a couple of feet when something—a person—stepped out from between two buildings and grabbed a hold of me.

An arm curled around my stomach, just below my breasts, securing my arms to my sides. I was up and off the sidewalk in a nanosecond, taken into the narrow pathway between the two buildings. A hand clamped down on my mouth. Instinct kicked in, and I brought my knees up, planning to throw my weight forward.

"I wouldn’t do that," said a low, deep voice directly in my ear. "I’m going to put you down, and you’re not going to spin around and punch or kick me. You understand?"

How was I supposed to voice my understanding? His hand was over my mouth!

"Come on, Merida. Nod your head if you feel me."

Who in the hell was Merida? It didn’t matter. All I needed was for him to let me go, and I wasn’t going to punch or kick him. I was going to beat the living crap out of him. I nodded.

"I’m trusting you. The last thing I want to see is for you to hurt yourself," he said.

Oh, someone was going to be hurting, and it wasn’t going to be me.

A second later, the arm around my upper stomach disappeared and so did the hand. Without hesitation, I spun around and looked up into a pair of startling emerald colored eyes.

Chapter Four

It was him. Green Eyes. Ren. That was his name. Now I remembered. I started to step forward, but he beat me to it. Moving as quickly as a damn snake striking, he caught my wrists. He didn’t yank my arms to my sides. All he did was hold my fists away from his face.

A lopsided grin appeared on those full lips. "Can’t say I’m entirely surprised you took a swing at me."

"Then I guess this won’t surprise you either." Leaning back, I shifted my weight onto my left leg, but again, Ren outmaneuvered me with a quickness that was sort of embarrassing.

He stepped into what would’ve been a fantastic kick and forced me back against the wall. Then there was nowhere to go, no space whatsoever. My back was against the building, and the entire length of his hard body was pressed against mine.

Son of a bitch.

As if he could read my mind, that grin spread and the dimples played peekaboo. "Now I think we can have a conversation without me ending up bloody."

I blew out an aggravated breath. "I wouldn’t bet on that not happening."

He chuckled, and the sound rumbled through me. I couldn’t even remember being this close to a guy since . . . since Shaun. "Look, I’m sorry for snatching you off the street like a kidnapper, but you were about to make yet another huge mistake."

His apology was lost on me. "Make another mistake?"

"Yeah, like the one last night that ended with you getting shot." He dipped his chin, and the yellow glow of the light attached to the wall above us glanced off his broad cheekbones. "I know what you were about to do."

"I didn’t make a mistake last night. I was doing my job," I spat. "And I doubt your job includes grabbing chicks off the street."

"That would be a hell of a lot more entertaining, but the moment you thought you could engage that fae last night, you made a mistake. And you were about to do it again, you little ass."

"Little ass?" I sputtered. "You grabbed me off the street like a serial killer!"

"And I’ve apologized for that even though you should be thanking me. I just saved your life, sweetness."

Floored, all I could do was stare at him for a moment. "You’re insane."

"I’m a lot of things, but today I’m your fucking saving grace."

"Wow. You’re so incredibly modest," I said. "Let me bake you some damn cookies."

That grin spread into a smile that I could easily see stopping hearts across the nation. "I like sugar cookies. With extra sugar sprinkled on top."

"Oh, go fu—"

"You were about to get your ass handed to you by an ancient, Ivy. I stopped you," he said, proving that he knew my name wasn’t Merida or whoever the hell he called me. "And I know you’re one bundle of kick ass hotness, but you’re not ready to face off with one of them."

I opened my mouth, but two things struck me into silence. First off, he called me a bundle of kick ass hotness, and that really did sound like a cool compliment. But more importantly, he called that fae an ancient more than once, and that got through the haze of fury.

Staring up at him, I simmered down. "He really is an ancient?"

"Yes."

My heart rate jumped. "How . . . how do you know?"

"I know."

"I don’t know you enough to even begin to trust you or what you’re saying," I told him. "So a little detail would be nice."

"I didn’t ask you to trust me." He tilted his head to the side as his thumb moved on the inside of my right wrist, gliding in a small circle in a way that was distracting. "What I am telling you, is that fae you met last night and were following tonight isn’t a normal one. He’s an ancient, and he’s not the only one here."

"How do you know?" I repeated.

A muscle thrummed along his jaw and a moment passed. "Aren’t you supposed to be taking time off? What are you doing out here? Because I cannot believe you came out here to hunt, not more than twenty-four hours after you almost bled out on my boots."

"You didn’t answer my question." I paused. "And I didn’t almost bleed out on your precious boots."

"You were bleeding pretty bad. How are you feeling?" His thumb was still moving.