Page 43 of Faking with the Fae King

“Fake fiancé.” Finn gives my hand a gentle nip to punctuate his words, his teeth grazing without breaking the skin. “I’m yourrealfamiliar. I’m more important.”

“You just admitted you’re my familiar.” I grin.

“Humph.”

It doesn’t take us much longer to reach the new castle, which is on the other side of the waterfall from Severin’s palace. And this oneisa castle, with plain, heavy stone walls rising to crenellated towers. An outer wall surrounds an open courtyard, paved with huge slabs of stone.

Severin stands beside another fae, who has red-scaled wings and a sinuous tail. Two dark horns spiral up from the long deep-auburn hair covering his head. He’s dressed in brown leather pants and a white dress shirt that sets off his bronze skin.

How the hell do you put on a shirt when you have wings? I shake my head. Magic, of course. Duh, Hannah.

“Hannah, this is Lukendevener, the foremost dragon expert on human magic,” Severin says. “Lukendevener, I present Mayor Hannah Wylde, my betrothed.”

“You may call me Luke.” The dragon frowns. “Humans seem unable to handle a full dragon name.”

“So you’re really a dragon?” I ask. “Someone said you’re as big as a house.”

“That’s my true form, but I’ve been told it’s far too large for Earth.” Luke scowls at Severin, who looks completely unrepentant, then turns back to me. “You really don’t know how to use your magic?”

“I really, really don’t.”

“I look forward to working closely with you to figure it out.”

“No.” Severin steps in between us, his shadows coiling around my waist and thigh to move me gently out of the way. “You will tell me what you find, andIwill work with Hannah.”

Possessive much? I guess it’s all part of the act.

“Such a system is inefficient,” Luke says.

“If you’re not up for the task, I’m sure I can find another dragon who is,” Severin snaps.

The dragon’s wings spread wide.

Holy shit. They’re a good ten feet across.

Severin’s wings emerge, and the two fae enter into a staring match. Tension ripples through the air along with pulses of magic. It’s so thick it’s hard to breathe. It goes on and on, and right when I think I’ll scream from the buildup of tension, Luke’s wings fold onto his back. “Very well.”

“Find everything you can about human witchcraft and report to me tomorrow afternoon,” Severin says.

The dragon stomps through the silver doors of his castle.

Severin spins toward me, triumph blazing from his emerald eyes. Power rolls off him, a magnetic pull I can barely resist.

“Cancel anything you have planned for tomorrow evening,” he growls, his shadows tightening around my waist. “The second you get off work, you’re all mine.”

My butterflies do a round of tequila shots, swirling and looping through my tummy in drunken giddiness.

I’m screwed. Totally and utterly screwed.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Hannah

“The second meeting of the Witch Bitch Spicy Book Club is now in session!” Autumn yells when she walks into I Touch My Shelf that evening. Her bangles jangle as she lifts her canvas bags of cocktail mixers high, showing them off.

Everybody cheers, including Naomi, who teleported in from Faerie to join in on the fun this time around.

Autumn hurries over to the table that holds the shop’s coffee maker, and Skye slides her tray of cupcakes over to make space.

---