Page 42 of Fae Devoted
“What does that symbol mean?” she asked from over his hunched shoulder, holding onto a fistful of the cotton between his shoulder blades as though afraid he’d disappear if they weren’t physically connected.
“It means these vamps belong to the Sídhe Lord.” Needing the same reassurance, Tucker reached around and loosed her grip from his shirt, standing as he interlaced their fingers. Together they checked the other unconscious males and found the Fae’s brand on both their necks. He didn’t bother verifying the one he’d beheaded.
“A Fae, a real live Sídhe from Faery. It’s hard to believe.” Jo jogged to keep up as he hurried to the running pickup. He scooped her gun from the seat where she’d left it, then placed it inside the floor niche alongside his bloody sword and shield. “I thought they all left Earth’s realm eons ago.”
“This one didn’t.” He lifted her into the undamaged driver’s side of the truck. “And he’s had centuries to build an army.”
The Dádhe with the bullet in his brainfeltold, age hanging on him like a thick woolen mantle.
“He’s formed a rogue House?” she asked, scrambling into the passenger seat.
“Not just rogues.”
“Who else?” Jo paled, hands stilling in the process of untwisting her dress’s full skirt.
“Outcasts.”
Jo’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.
They pulled up to their run-down motel less than three minutes later.
“Grab your bag,” he said, practically dragging Jo inside their room, his adrenaline high. It was still hours until sunrise, plenty of time for one of the three vampires who would recover to call in reinforcements. Tucker planned on being miles away before that happened.
“What kind of Fae is this Lord…Daimhín?” Jo rushed into the bathroom, ignoring her open suitcase on the floor.
“An elf.” He hissed as he tugged his blood-soaked shirt over his head. The half-healed wound hurt like a sonofabitch.
Jo went motionless, a wet washcloth in her hand. “An Elven Lord?”
“He’s the true power behind the Fae Touched rebels, which included Jeremiah’s outcasts.”
Shaking her head, she continued her approach until less than a foot separated them. “That issonot good.”
“No, it isn’t.” And because of Tucker, Jo was now on the Fae’s radar.
“Your brother was influenced by Elven magic.” Her eyes went wide. “Oh shit, Jeremiah has the Fae’s brand on his neck, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, he does.” But how many others drank Daimhín’s blood?
Tucker balled the stained tee and flung it into the wastebasket beside the dilapidated dresser; housekeeping in a place like this wouldn’t even blink at the bloody rags.
“Is that why the Fae sent his vampires to kill you? He’s afraid you’ll get to Jeremiah first?” she asked, then went quiet, cleansing the blood from his skin and inspecting the damage. The long, thin cut no longer bled, the flesh already knitting itself together.
“Perhaps, but something tells me it has more to do with the witchling than my brother.”
Jo wiped his gore-stained fingers clean and tossed the soiled cloth into the trash alongside his shirt, then laid her palms on his abdomen, peering up at him with concern. Tucker could lose himself in those wide, hazel eyes, drown in their depths.
Who am I kidding? I’m already lost.
He bent until his nose touched her shoulder, the inviting sweep of skin bared by the pretty cocktail dress calling to his wolf like the sultry song of a siren.
“Jacob?” She cradled his head, voice husky, pulse escalating. “Are you okay?”
“Need a minute,” he half-growled, voice stripped raw. The intolerable notion he could have lost Jo forever seized his throat. Gulping in an agonizing breath, Tucker inhaled her warm, spicy scent and the subtle musk of her desire. His body strained toward hers with a will of its own, his cock hardening in response to his mate’s need, his canines extending without conscious effort.
Fighting the inevitable was fucking exhausting, and he was heartily sick of it.
Grasping her waist, Tucker pinned Jo to the nearest wall and slanted his lips over hers, swallowing her startled gasp into his starving lungs. He delved inside, stroking the honeyed crevasse with his tongue, savoring his she-wolf’s delicious flavor. Desperate to taste every inch of her skin, he tore his mouth from hers, trailing sharp nips and wet kisses along the side of her throat.
