“Sorry.” A strained snicker escaped his lips as he lifted his head. “We all have our demons, Rori. It’s just a matter of how we face them. Whether or not we give in to the allure of darkness or the promise of righteousness. He teeters on a dangerous precipice right now. One that could kill him or save him. I believe that’s why the Goddess matched the two of you and put you in each other’s path. Thaddeus doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t falter. Not this version of him. Last night, he did. If I know my real brother, I know if he holds even the smallest conviction you are hisanam cara, he willneverharm you.” Perching his forearms on the table, he leaned toward her. “Andthatis how I know he’s still alive somewhere inside that cruel, callous shell of a Fae. Because I caught the tiniest spark of regret in his eyes last night, and it had to do with you.”
6
Thaddeus observed his quarry, his presence hidden behind woven magic and spells. He walked beside his brother’s mortal woman, mere feet from her person as she paid a visit to some human shop filled with food products and other items he couldn’t find a reason to entertain as palatable. The entire trip, the woman hurried along, throwing items from a list on a device he’d learned was a cell phone between taking breaks to send messages to “Steve.” She gave no indication that would make him believe she had seen through Cael’s glamour.
Or his.
Despite his nearness, she remained oblivious to the fact he mirrored her movements and pathways, only a veil of magic separating them. Other humans sidestepped him by instinct, leaving his path clear to observe while the woman remained blissfully oblivious to the hunter stalking her.
His interest in the woman waned. His findings were conclusive that there was no Goddess-fated match between her and Cael. The discovery offered him a moment of relief. ’Twas evident to him that Grison thought him sodevoted a lover to Daeanna that he would blindly murder his own brother. Aye, his initial meeting was one of intimidation in hopes of getting information out of Cael.
’Twas supposed to go smoothly, and had been going smoothly.
Until the bloody door opened.
Thaddeus hesitated on the sidewalk, his vision shaken by the reminder of the little redhead. As he came back to himself, he found Cael’s woman bouncing across the parking lot to where she had left her vehicle.
No use following any longer. He had followed his brother’s energy essence to the woman’s living quarters—quarters he quickly learned were shared with the bane of his current predicament. He need not follow her home now. He’d found what he’d come looking for, or rather, found naught of worth.
With a small flick of his wrist, he sifted back to the woman’s home. ’Twas silent, still, and stifling inside the small space. A handful of rooms, none of which exuded even a fraction of the luxury he was used to in Faery. Seating mainly consisted of hard chairs with no upholstery, and if upholstery was used, ’twas rough, uncomfortable, and the cushions utterly hard. How did mortals bear such things?
Lips pulled into a scowl, he moved about the main room, noting small items such as the television propped on a table, several machines across the kitchen counter, and the unusual food cooler. He recalled seeing some similar items at the simple place Daeanna had found safety in during her short duration in exile, but certainly not in Faery, not that he pondered his time away over trivial things such as cooking. A pantry of sorts held bags and boxes of items similar to those he’d seen in the shop, most of which drew his morbid curiosity.
How did humans eat such things?
Then again, humans were…human. Such simple, subpar creatures. Bottom-dwellers of the realms. They bided their time until their end, doing nothing of worth.
He passed through the closed doorway into a cramped bedchamber and rubbed the growing ache at his temple. ’Twas such a pitiable space for one to rest their head. Granted, the bed was a fair size—certainly not near the size of his old bed, or Daeanna’s—but the blankets possessed a roughness of worn wool that instantly made his skin itch. No silk. No satin. No furs. Some fake, synthetic material he couldn’t bear to think of sleeping beneath.
Furnishings were simple, once more. Pictures on the wall of Cael and that mortal woman of his. A few abstract paintings. Dresser, nightstands, lamps, and another television. He pawed through the drawers of the dresser, not surprised to find clothing in the bottom two drawers that he suspected belonged to his brother. An unremarkable bathroom connected off the room. Once again, other than a few items that he believed belonged to Cael, naught of interest.
He returned to the main living quarters and was about to leave when a familiar fragrance stole through a breath, bringing him to pause outside another closed door. For a long moment, he stared at the wooden barrier, caught in a spontaneous storm that both warmed his blood and put him on guard. Tingles skated down his arms, his magic flaring with recognition. His fingers curled into his palms, but curiosity ultimately won the internal battle his mind waged with his body.
He reached out and twisted the doorknob, slowly pushing the door open to reveal a second bedroom.
Herscent filled this room. It hit him with gale force, dimming his vision and rocking him on his feet. Sweet, subtle, refreshing, consuming.“It wasn’t me she saw. It wasyou.”His brother’s words resounded in his ears, hollow but clear as he took a single step into the room. ’Twas smaller than the first bedroom, minimally furnished, with the bed taking up most of the space. A small desk, papers and books strewn across the top, small dresser, a single nightstand with a lamp and a half-finished glass of water, a few more books. Another private bathroom with a sink filled with brushes and tubes and cans.
His nostrils flared as images of the redheaded wench played through his head. Every breath he took infused his lungs with her essence, more and more. His body reacted, as frustrating as it was. The more he tried to fight it, the stronger the reaction.
Pressing his lips tight, he lazily rummaged through the papers on the desk. Sheets of medical teachings and symptoms and strange concoctions for cures or treatments. Books filled with information about illnesses. The more he looked, the deeper the furrow in his brow. The greater his curiosity. What was the woman trying to learn?
As he finished his investigation of the desk, he noticed a folder beneath a fake crystal sphere. A plain thing, but something deep inside his gut drew him to slide the sphere away and open the folder.
For the first time in his life, he swore he saw red. The burn of magic poured through his hands and pooled in his fingertips, lethal power as raw and unfiltered as the reaction he had to the picture staring back at him. He reached toward the picture, to push it aside and reveal what lay beneath—more pictures.
He heard the lock on the apartment door click and the door open.
“…will be speaking with him tomorrow in more detail about what to expect. He’s requesting a copy of the medical records from the assault, and is suggesting the physician who attended me that night testify. He’s proposing subpoenas for anyone who oversaw my care in the emergency room, so I’m going to reach out during lunch before my phone conference with him.”
Thaddeus backed away from the desk and pressed himself to the wall beside the bedroom door, casting his presence behind a veil of invisibility. He narrowed his eyes and tracked the woman’s movement through the apartment, her phone tucked between her shoulder and ear. She dropped her bag and keys on the counter. The furrow deepened further as he observed her strange attire—did women in this world wear such hideous pants and unflattering tops with threadwork labels on their breasts? What was that plastic-looking thing dangling from the V of her hideous shirt?
But his thoughts shifted almost instantly to the picture, then back to the woman who quickly covered ground and brushed right by him. She pulled the phone away and pressed a button, dropping the device on her dresser. She began to peel the Goddess-awful top from her body?—
He stiffened. Swallowed hard. Wanted to look away, because why would he care to taint his vision with the sight of a mortal woman’s flesh?
Beneath the shirt, she wore a skin-tight white shirt with thin straps. The way it hugged her narrow frame made his cock pulse. She was small, lithe, not much curve but somehow, her shape fit her.
The voice of Cael’s woman came from the device. “I can meet up with you at lunch and be your moral support. This way, we don’t miss anything. That temporary restraining order is going to expire soon, so this injunction needs to move along at a clipped pace. The judge better not deny you a permanent restraining order this time around.”
