Ava tore through the city streets before bursting out of the city onto an old country road. And from there, she took off, driving as fast as she could. Faster.
Even faster.
She hit one hundred miles an hour without batting an eye.
The revving engine underneath her didn’t soothe the desperate sexual desire that Jason had built in only minutes, but it helped. Though she doubted even Cupid could squelch this kind of want.
Nothing this strong had ever happened to her. She’d talked to charges before. She’d talked to a charge’s love interest to feel them out. And many times those interactions had involved having a drink with them, really speaking to them and getting to know them.
Never had she been so tempted to let go—to not do her job—like this.
This was not the typical case. Something had to be wrong. This had to be a mistake. There had to be a reason she’d responded so strongly to him. Was he using some kind of pheromone spray or something?
Regardless, what in the stars was she going to do now?
She felt a connection to her charge. One that no Fairy Godmother should ever feel.
She had to admit it, because if she didn’t, she’d never be able to deal with it. And the worst thing any Fairy Godmother could feel was a connection to her charge—well, other than sisterly compassion.
And there was nothing sisterly about the emotions she felt for Jason Gregorian. Not to mention the ones he obviously had for her—his aura had about gone berserk with all the twirls of desire pulsing through him when she’d climbed on the motorcycle.
It might have been more, but she’d made herself shut off that power because she didn’t want to see it.
It was easier to deal with it if the attraction was one-sided.
Ava watched the road, slipping around the curves, leaning into its turns. Feeling every bump and jar, she forced herself to focus. At these speeds, she had to be careful. She didn’t want to end up in a healers’ ward.
Not at the beginning of this. Not now.
The wind blew against her, and the motorcycle flew faster than she’d ever traveled with her wings, and centered her like nothing else. Motorcycles had become an obsession of hers since their creation. Nothing both thrilled her and brought her more peace than slipping on one and flying down the road.
She cranked up the speed even more. Here, she would find her answer.
She always found her answer on a bike.
Today would be no different.
The country road turned cave-like as the trees grew tall and thick on each side, branches curving overhead, shielding the sky.
“Speed” by Montgomery Gentry came to mind. While Ava usually remained more of a rocker girl—even before rock and roll came around—that song seemed appropriate.
She needed to get some space between her and her charge.
And fast.
Because she had to clear her he—
Everything suddenly went both superfast and ultraslow. Ava felt more than saw the little sandbar on the road.
The bike twisted, the rear flinging itself out from under her.
Go, go, go! Ava heard clearly in her head.
She pushed up on the seat, her wings burst from her back, tearing apart her tank top. Momentum pulled her down—she struggled, striking hard with the wings.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Ava shot into the air. Her wings pumped hard, sending her shooting into the sky.
Rather, straight into one of the trees.
Even with her helmet on, she slammed hard into its thick branch.
The last thing she thought as she fell?
Shit.
I am fucked.