When she looked up at me, her eyes had the force of a goddamn train. I felt like I was just waiting for the collision, that I was looking at somethin' powerful, something old. And those eyes, like two sapphires, dark and thick wit' magic … I could damn near drown in 'em.
“Get yourself under control, brudder,” Donal mumbled, flicking me in the crotch. That's when I realized that I was holding onto a rock-hard cock inside my jeans. Over this frail thing? I'd break da girl if I tried to fuck her. The hell was wrong with me? “And call your daddy.”
“He's my president same as he is yours,” I snarled under my breath, turning away from the girl before I could think too hard about the rapid beating of my heart or the thickening of my cock. No way, no hell.
I was not gettin' mixed up with a woman as troublesome as all that.
I made enough trouble all on my own.
Sitting on the strange couch in the strange room, I felt a sense of … sameness from the man staring down at me, the one who turned away with a curse and removed a phone from his pocket. Watching him, I noticed the emblem on his leather vest was the same as the one the man at the diner had been wearing.
A white skull sat atop an iridescent pair of green butterfly wings. The words beneath it—The Wild Hunt—stirred my memory and made me lick my lips.
I remembered that; I knew about that.
But I didn't know why.
And the man wearing the vest? Well, it wasn't just the design on his back that was making me lick my lips. He had a thick head of red-brown hair, full ripe lips surrounded by a dusting of stubble, and big muscular arms with rounded biceps and scattered black and gray tattoos. They danced when he moved, teased into action by the strong muscles underneath his tanned skin.
He was mesmerizing.
“Alright dere, girl. Start spillin',” another man with a long beard said, standing directly in front of me and folding his arms over his chest. He didn't look any older than the other guy—the one with the auburn hair that shimmered like rubies when he moved beneath the lights—yet something about the way this other man held himself said he was older, and in charge.
“Donal, quit with the intimidating shit,” Caley yawned, slapping the bearded guy on the arm. “Cleary, she can't talk. She's pretty beat-up too. Look at her wrists.”
Donal grunted and narrowed his eyes at Caley. “Girl, don't go beatin' around the bush with me. You want Killian to come check her out then you damn well say so.”
“Sorry, D.” She grinned. “Just trying to be demure like Mama always says I should be.”
“Your Ma is human. It's different rules for humans.” He turned his shrewd stare back to me, darting his gaze down to my raw wrists, then at my threadbare dress and purple-black bruises down my arms. My hand still clutched at the seeping blood in my side, and I was barely containing the overwhelming need to dig out the piece of metal with my fingernails.
“Alright, Reece!” the bearded man, Donal, yelled. “C'mere boy!”
“I ain't your boy, D,” the attractive man who'd been on the phone muttered as he ended his call and rejoined us. His warm brown eyes ran over me in a way that was almost … lustful? That couldn't be right. The pain must be messing with my head. “What you want, anyhow?” He ran a tattooed hand through his short auburn hair then scratched at the stubble on his chin. It was clear he was speaking to the other guy, Donal, but his eyes remained locked on mine like we were magnets.
“Need you to call Killian to come check our guest out.” Donal folded his arms over his massive chest and scowled at me, which finally allowed me to break from the sexy red-haired man's gaze.
Reece. It suited him.
He and Donal both were as big, if not bigger than Caley's boyfriend had been, and I raked through my murky mind to figure out if this was normal or not. Of course, I couldn't remember.
“Sure thing, VP,” Reece muttered, pulling his phone back out of his black jeans and tapping on the screen with his long, elegant fingers. I wondered what those fingers would feel like against my skin, running through my hair, touching my—
“Don't worry, babe.” Caley snapped me out of my daydream, plonking herself down beside me on the couch. “Killian is a healer. He can sort you out, and then maybe you can tell us who you are?”
Blinking at her, I turned this information over in my mind. Even if I could speak, I couldn't tell her who I was. I had no idea. How the hell had I ended up in a situation like this? And why was I not in the least concerned that they were talking like I wasn't human?
“Killian's on his way back now and da ol' man will be 'ere in a couple of hours. He's over in Baton Rouge sorting out some politics.” Reece's intense gaze swung back to me as he delivered this news to Caley and Donal, and I shifted awkwardly. Even if the bruises all over my body—and the bleeding wound in my side—hadn't been making me uncomfortable, the force of his stare had me practically shaking.
“Fucking hell,” Donal spat, stroking his beard. “Forgot he was doing that today. Caley girl, take your broken bird upstairs for a shower. Maybe wash a bit of that iron stink off her before Killian gets back? You know how sensitive that boy's nose is.”
“Sure thing, D.” Caley hopped up from the couch and extended a hand covered in rings to me. “Come on, hon, let's get you cleaned up.”
Eyeing up her offered hand again, I hesitated a moment. My eyes flickered over to Reece, almost as though I was checking with him that this was safe? But that couldn't be right. These people were total strangers to me; Caley was the only one I'd known for more than a few minutes. So why would I be looking to this beautiful man for reassurance?
“I'll take her,” Reece said suddenly, stepping forward to nudge Caley out of the way. He bent down, sweeping me up in his strong arms and startling a soundless gasp from my aching throat.
“Reece, um …” Caley started, chewing her lower lip and frowning.
“That's not a good idea, boy,” Donal grunted in his strange accent. Now that I'd heard a few more sentences out of him, it seemed like a mix of Irish and Cajun.
How on earth did I know what both Irish and Cajun accents sounded like yet I didn't know my own name? This was insanity.
“Yer opinion is noted, VP, but she needs help rebuilding 'er glamour and Caley is too watered-down to do that for her.” Reece's chest vibrated against my body as he spoke and I resisted the urge to lean in closer to him.
So far, everything these people had said was truth, and a small part of my brain supplied the information I was looking for.
They were fae. Fae couldn't lie.
Not that they didn't, but they physically couldn't lie. Suddenly the careful way they were phrasing their sentences made more sense, like how Caley had told me that Arlo meant me no harm. Not that he wouldn't harm me.
“Yeah, but I think you can at least let her shower alone, Reece,” Caley suggested, ruffling a hand through her short hair and yawning heavily again. “We have no idea what she's been through or how she ended up like this, and the last thing we need you doing is scaring her into taking off. Look, she's fucking terrified of you!”