“No,” Marjani growled. “He’s trying to get you to follow him. It’s a trap.”
Adric put his fork down. They were in the kitchen eating scrambled eggs and ham. Marjani had surprised him by having breakfast ready when he’d walked in the door that morning—and then she’d told him Corban had sent a message.
See you in Reykjavik.
It was a fucking dare.
“Do you really think Corban’s stronger than me?” he asked. It had been six weeks since his cousin had disappeared. Adric had alerted the other earth alphas about Corban’s treachery, but it was as if his cousin had dropped off the face of the earth. But if he was in Iceland, that explained why they couldn’t find him; King Sindre didn’t allow any fada clans that close to home.
Marjani blew out a breath. “Of course not. But he’s not working alone. Maybe Tyrus is dead, but that doesn’t mean Corban’s not working with another night fae. And then there’s the ice fae, too.”
Adric took a gulp of coffee. Hot as Hades and liberally dosed with cream, it washed away the bitter taste that filled his mouth every time he recalled that Leron had invited the night fae into Baltimore, and then stood by while they manipulated things to get darker and darker, just so they could fucking feed. Like there wasn’t enough darkness in the world for them to draw on already.
Holy mother, if Adric ever grew that power-hungry, he hoped his lieutenants would put him down like a rabid dog.
“I need to find out who in the ice fae is helping him—and why. Is it that ice fae woman I sent him to capture last year? Or the king himself? And how does Nika fit into this?”
“Not the ice fae woman. If it was her, Corban wouldn’t try to get you to Reykjavik. That’s the heart of Sindre’s territory.”
He shook his head. “Whoever’s working with him, I have to go. He’s my responsibility.” He’d promised the other alphas that he’d take care of Corban, once and for all.
“No—I’ll go. The clan needs you right now.”
He scraped a hand over his hair. His sister was the one with a Gift for strategy. When she spoke, a wise alpha listened. And she was right—people were still reeling from the recent attacks by Tyrus and Corban, and Kane’s death hadn’t helped. There were whispers that Adric intended to wipe out that entire branch of the Savonett family, even though Nash himself said that Corban was the one at fault.
The clan was seething. Mistrust. Fear. Anger. Everything Adric had worked so hard to put behind them.
And then there was Prince Langdon. The night fae ruler had been seen in Baltimore twice in the last six weeks, when he normally came to the city only once every five years, if that much.
But damn it, sending Marjani to Iceland wasn’t an option. “Absolutely not,” he told her. “You’re too—” He halted as her shoulders hunched.
“Weak,” she finished for him.
His stomach hollowed. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t really think that. But I—”
She lifted her chin. “Maybe you’re right. But I need to know, and that’s never going to happen if I stay here in Baltimore. Everyone treats me like I’m made of frigging eggshells.”
“What about Luc?” The lieutenant had loved Marjani for years. He’d waited patiently for her to heal, and these past few weeks, it had seemed Marjani was finally responding. She’d even danced with Luc last week at Jace and Evie’s mating.
She arched a delicate brow. “What about him?”
Adric swallowed. He didn’t hesitate to meddle in his clan members’ lives if he thought it would do some good, but when his sister went all soft and curious, he’d learned to tread with care. “I thought maybe you and him—”
“No. We’re friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be. And while we’re on the subject, what’s up with you and Rosana do Rio? Do you think I don’t know you slip off to Grace Harbor just on the chance you’ll run into her?”
Adric’s chest tightened. Rosana was his guilty secret, even if he rarely got close enough to talk to her, let alone kiss her again like that night by the river. “Leave it,” he growled.
Marjani’s jaw set. “Only if you leave off me and Luc.”
“Fine.” He returned his attention to his breakfast.
They ate in silence until Marjani said, “There’s something I’d like to know—why didn’t the prince stop Tyrus? He had to know Tyrus was targeting Jace and the clan. You’re not going to tell me a man like that doesn’t know what his only son is up to.”
“Think about it. Jace is one of the last people left who knows he had a half-blood son. Yeah, the prince kept Merry a secret for her own safety—but it benefits him, too. How long would he rule the night fae if they knew he had a child with a human? And worse, that his half-human son then mated with an earth fada—which means he’s got a granddaughter who’s part animal. You know how purebloods think.”
Feral blue streaked his sister’s eyes. “He’ll protect Merry. She’s family, and even a night fae feels that bond. But not Jace. It would be better for him if Jace was dead.”
“And me,” Adric returned with ruthless practicality. “If he knows anything about fada, he knows Jace wouldn’t keep a secret like that from his alpha.”
“Hell.” Marjani scraped a hand over her cropped black hair. “I had to kill Tyrus. He wouldn’t have stopped until Jace and Evie were both dead.”
He touched her hand. “You did right. He was going to use Jace’s quartz to force him to kill Merry—and then the protective spell would’ve killed Jace. You saved both their lives, and probably Evie’s too.”
“But the clan. I put all of you in danger. When the prince finds out—”
“He won’t,” Adric stated. “I obliterated every trace of Tyrus. And if he does, we’ll just have to deal with it. I’ll track him to his lair and take him out myself if I have to.”
She nodded, and he thought that was the end of it.
But in the morning she was gone. Her smartphone was turned off, but the link between them told Adric she was on her way north. To Iceland.
And he literally shook with the need to follow.
But he couldn’t, because Marjani was right, the clan needed him in Baltimore, especially with Langdon sniffing around. So he sent Luc instead—and prayed to all the gods that he’d made the right decision.
Charming Marjani: The Darktime Trilogy continues…
He’s rich, sexy…and part-fae.
But she’s a shifter assassin on a mission.
She can’t let herself be charmed…
Marjani’s skin prickled. She sipped her ale and glanced around.
A tall, rangy man with shoulder-length blond hair slouched at a nearby table, drinking a beer. He met her eyes, not bothering to hide that he was checking her out.
Her breath snagged.
Holy singing crystals, he was beautiful, with slanted cheekbones and sky-blue eyes framed by dark eyelashes. His straight nose had a small bump on the bridge, a tiny imperfection that only heightened his appeal, and his black ribbed sweater stretched across a hard chest.
His cheek creased in a smile—and fear wrapped icy fingers around her lungs.
She jerked her gaze back to her sandwich, her stomach tight, heart thudding in her ears.
Fuck, she hated this. A couple of years ago, she might have smiled back, seen where this led. But not anymore. No one touched her. She didn’t even let members of the clan get too close.
A shadow fell across the table.
She snarled, her cougar rising to meet the threat. She forced it down. Shifting in the middle of a human pub could be fatal. The fada and humans had treaties about those things. A fada shifting in a pub for no reason would be automatically targeted by the authorities as feral.
She could be shot on sight—or slapped into a cage.
And she’d have to admit Adric was right after all—she was too broken, too close to going feral, to be out on her own.
The tall blond smiled down at her. Spoke.
Still fighting the cougar, she had to concentrate to make sense of his words.
“I said, mind if I join you?” A surprisingly deep voice, gravel wrapped in silk.
She gave a shake of her head. “Yes.”
He lifted a single dark brow. “No, you don’t mind, or yes, you do?”
“Yeah, I mind. I don’t want company.”
His gaze went to the slight lump her quartz made beneath her sweater. “Your accent is American, which means you’re from one of two clans.”
Fine hairs rose all over her body. He was correct; the only earth fada clans in North America were her own clan in Baltimore and the Navajo clan in Arizona.
But how the hell had he made her as an earth fada so fast?
Her nostrils flared, subtly testing the air. Human—he smelled of salt and iron—but with a trace of silver. The man had fae blood, although it might be so faint he didn’t know it himself. Overlaying it was a pleasant grassy scent, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors.
Her cat liked his smell, but the human part of her didn’t like that hint of fae. Not on top of the fact that he knew a little too much about earth fada.
Easing the switchblade from her pocket, she released the catch.
“You don’t want to use that.” He set his plate and glass on her table and took the chair across from her.
“No?”
“No.” He leaned back in his chair, resting an arm on the back as if she were an old friend instead of a pissed-off shifter with a sharp blade aimed at his privates. “Too messy.”