She's No Faerie Princess (12 page)

man I have. I let you talk me into assigning Neil to guard

Dionnu, but I'm not trusting this one to anyone else."

"And I'm the only one I can think of who has the slightest chance of getting so much as a peep out of my uncle. Face it," she said, leaning forward and letting her satisfaction show on her face. "You need me."

Walker turned his head slowly, degree by degree, until heskewered her with his intense, glittering golden stare. Athis sides, his hands clenched and unclenched in starkcontrast to his stony expression. Under his gaze, a shiverovertook her, and her smile slowly faded.

"Princess," he said, his voice a low, dark rumble of menace, "there are many things in this world I need, and if both of us are very, very lucky, you won't ever have to find out what they are."

Swallowing the unaccustomed bundle of nerves rising inher throat, Fiona put on her best game face andshrugged with nonchalant grace. "There's all kinds ofluck, furry man. Let's go see if yours and mine haveanything in common."

CHAPTER 10

Fiona tipped her head back and surveyed the elegantblack tower that rose in front of her. At her back, thesounds of Manhattan traffic mingled with the rustling of

Central Park. Subdued bronze numbers glowed againstthe building's dark edifice, and the dark green awningthat stretched out from the entrance cast a cool,sheltering shadow across the sidewalk. "Yup." Shenodded. "This looks like Uncle Dionnu." At her side, Walker had ceased to vibrate with frustration, but shealmost would have preferred that to the granite silence ofdisapproval he'd been carrying around ever since. Hestood at her side, silent and stoic, and said not a word.

"Not that Uncle Dionnu looks like a high-rise," she continued, filling in the silence. "I mean, he's Fae. Have you ever seen a bulky Fae? But he certainly likes the better things in life, and since he seems to consider the human world to be a slum to begin with, if he were going to spend time here, it would definitely be in a place like this."

She looked up into Walker's face, pursed her lips, andreturned her gaze forward. "Right, then. Maybe weshould go in?"

She took his rumbled grunt for an assent. No matter howhe might have meant it.

Five steps took her up to the smoked-glass doors at thebuilding's entrance, but the doorman prevented hertaking any more. He stepped into her path, his scarletand gold frock coat covering shoulders of intimidatingbreadth. His gloved hands remained clasped loosely infront of him, but his meaning came across loud and clear. He intended to keep his own gate well secured.

"Can I help you, miss?"

His tone was coolly polite, his accent pure Brooklyn.

Fiona tried a charming smile. "I just stopped by to pop inon my uncle. He's staying in the building while he's in thecity."

"His name?"

"Mr. MacLir."

The face didn't move. "Is he expecting you?"

She added a few bats of her eyelashes and cursed thedamn demon for taking up so much of her magic. "I'msure he must be. I always visit when we're both in Manhattan."

"And your name is?"

"Fiona… Malcomson."

"One moment, please."

Keeping one eye on her, or more specifically on her andthe decidedly menacing male beside her, the doormanstepped over to the stand at the right of the entrance andpulled out a clipboard. He began rifling through thepages, and Fiona turned to Walker, her smile fixed inplace. As soon as the doorman looked through theadmittance list and failed to find her name, their chancesof getting in the door would go up in smoke. There wasonly one way to deal with this.

She sidled closer beside Walker and wrapped her armsaround an unyielding one of his. "Walker," she murmuredthrough clenched teeth. "I need you to do me an itty-bittyfavor."

His eyes blazed down at her, reflecting all the ruthlessly

controlled aggravation he'd stuffed down inside him. If he kept that up, he was just begging for an ulcer. "I don't think this is the time to—"

She rolled her eyes and reached up to cup one handaround the back of his neck. "Okay, two favors. First ofall, shut up. Second…"

Rising up on tiptoes, she gave a sharp tug and draggedhim into the kiss before he had time to think of a way tostop her.

She should try the ambush tactic more often. It certainlygot results. By the time he convinced himself he ought tobe protesting, even he had to realize it was way too latefor that. She already had her fingers wound up in his hair,her tongue tangled with his, and her body pressed upagainst his stiff frame. He had no choice but to standthere and take it like a man.

If Fiona's lips hadn't already been occupied, she nevercould have kept them from curving. Instead, she keptthem busy. Above them, Walker's mouth felt firm andwarm and tasted of heat and irritation. She ignored theirritation and nurtured the heat with strokes of her tongue,teasing nips of her teeth, and the soft, sweet welcome ofher body.

His groan broke against her mouth the instant before heseized control of the kiss. The clenching of his hands intofists turned into the clenching of his arms around her. One arm wrapped around her waist and jerked her moretightly against him, while the other snaked around hershoulders, his hand tunneling through her hair until hecould cradle the back of her head in his broad palm andhold her still as he ravished her mouth.

Actually, she wasn't sure he could be accused ofravishing her, since she'd attacked him first, but she hadbetter things to do than quibble. Like savor the taste ofhim, the feel of his hands on her, the scent of his woodsy,musky skin. Nerve and muscle fluttered and clenched inher belly, and her heart sped up, beating hard in the baseof her throat. Lust and magic began to rise inside her in agreat, swirling vortex of pulsing energy. It twined up fromher stomach, through her lungs, and into her head,leaving her dizzy and exhilarated. Poured down her limbsuntil she thought the power must be dripping like waterfrom her fingers and toes. It felt different from the magicthat filled Faerie, not as thick, sleepier, younger, but itwould do. It would be enough for now.

Of course, now that she'd given a small recharge to herbattery, using it would require untangling herself from awerewolf who happened to be doing exactly what shewanted for the first time in their short and maddeningacquaintance.

She gave a mental sigh. There always had to be a catch.

Bracing herself for the unpleasant task at hand, Fionawhimpered and moved her hands flat against Walker'schest in preparation for disengagement. That's when helaunched a sneak attack of his own and slid his handdown the back of her neck to let his fingers draw random,bone-melting patterns against her ultrasensitive skin.

Her whimper turned into a moan, and she sank forwardagainst him. Oh hell. Another minute wouldn't hurtanything…

"Excuse me."

One more glorious, breath-stealing, toe-curling minute…

"Excuse me.
 
Miss
."

Damn all doormen.

Walker tore his mouth from hers and turned on the manwith a feral snarl. Struggling to draw air, Fiona teeteredon her feet until her brain kicked back into gear,reminding her where she was.

Reminding her who she was.

And why she was there.

The doorman held a clipboard in one hand, and hisexpression of polite blankness had morphed into one ofthinly veiled disdain sometime in the past few earth-shattering moments. "I'm sorry, but I don't see—"

Cutting him off in midsentence, Fiona gathered up a goodbit of the energy from the kiss and sent it winging straightat the doorman's thick skull. He never saw it coming, buthis borderline belligerence melted into a jolly, welcominggrin.

"—any reason why you shouldn't go straight up." All but humming with the eagerness to serve, the doorman, now looking tickled to the tips of his wing-tipped toes, hurried to the entrance and held the door open wide. "Your uncle is in Seventeen-ten. The two of you have a nice visit, and when you finish, you just come back and see me, and I'll make sure you get a cab home." He waved them inside. "Go on now. Enjoy yourselves. And give your uncle my best."

"Thanks so much." Grinning in satisfaction, Fiona

grabbed Walker's hand and tugged him toward the door.

"You're a peach."

Behind her, the werewolf glowered and grumped, but sheignored him and headed straight for the elevators.

"The minute I saw you," he muttered, stepping in behind her and staring at the button panel as the car lurched upward, "I knew you were trouble."

Fiona snorted. "You think that's trouble? Sweetheart, youneed to get out more. Save the disappointment for myuncle. It won't do you any more good with him than itdoes with me, but at least he deserves it."

Walker figured he'd pissed off somebody powerful. Andvindictive. What else explained the misery of his currentsituation? Why else would he be tortured with a Faerieprincess whom he absolutely couldn't have and whorefused to keep her hands, lips, and mouthwatering bodyoff of him? He couldn't possibly have done anything todeserve this.

"Just to let you know," his walking penance said as the doors of the elevator slid open on the seventeenth floor, "my uncle can be… difficult. You might want to let me handle him, do the talking."

Couldn't
 
possibly
.

He stalked out of the elevator in her wake and followedher down the thickly carpeted hall, concentrating fiercelyon keeping his expression blank and his eyes off theswing of her ass. These two activities left little energyover for anything else, so instead of protesting, he trailed

behind her to the wide wooden door with the gleaming brass numbers designating Dionnu's apartment and waited while she pressed the buzzer.

He fought a losing battle to look away from the smooth,pale skin of her upper chest and the hint of cleavageexposed by her sapphire blue velvet top. The materialclung to her form in intriguing hills and valleys…

His expression snapped into a frown, and he raked hisgaze over her petite form. Sometime between thebuilding entrance and the apartment door, his sweatpantsand button-down shirt that had bagged off of her soconcealingly had disappeared and been replaced by theclinging velvet top and a slim-fitting skirt in charcoal graythat fell past her knees. For all its length, the garmentshunned modesty with the way it cupped her ass andopened along a tantalizing slit in the side that offeredpeeks at smooth, silk-stockinged thigh.

He raised his eyes to her face and lowered his brows intoa scowl. "What the hell happened to your clothes?"

She slanted him a wry look. "Trust me. I can't go to visitmy uncle wearing your workout clothes. This would notbe a good idea. Poor fashion sense is a sign of weaknesswhere I come from."

Walker didn't think the sweats had expressed poorfashion sense. He'd actually liked the way she'd looked inhis oversize garments. Sort of small and sexy and tasty.

Shit.

He was saved from thinking himself into deeper troublewhen the door opened to reveal an exceedingly short

man with unruly dark curls and skin the color of Dutchprocess cocoa.

"May I help you?"

Fiona gave the brownie her patented sugar-sweet smile.

"We're here to see Dionnu."

The brownie didn't move. For someone so small, he didan admirable job of blocking the entrance. Maybe the Jets should consider him as an early draft pick.

"Is he expecting you?"

"Oh, I doubt it," she breezed, "but you can tell him his

niece is here."

The brownie didn't blink. He took a step backward andallowed them in, closing the door behind them and thenushering them a few steps down the hall to a sitting room.

"If you will wait here, please, I will let the master knowyou have called."

Master? What, had they wandered into an old episode of
 
Upstairs Downstairs
! Fiona seemed to take it in stride,wandering farther into the elegantly furnished room andtaking a seat on one end of a sofa that looked as if it hadcome out of some little corner of Versailles. It also lookedlike it would snap in two if Walker tried to settle his 250pounds on it. Lips tightening, he took a post at the end ofit and leaned his hip against the back near Fiona's head. Arms crossed over his chest, he waited for an audiencewith the king.

The concept struck Walker as a little surreal. He'd metplenty of important people in his life, and in his line ofwork he had spent a good amount of time with some of

them. Beta of the Silverback Clan was a position of respect and a calling in its own right, but the pay sucked —meaning it didn't exist. So he worked a day job as well, as chief of security for the Vircolac club. He'd taken over the job from the former pack beta, Logan Hunter, who had moved to Connecticut a couple of years ago and become alpha of his own pack. Before that, Walker had worked on Logan's crew, bouncing unruly customers, installing and maintaining the club's intricate and sophisticated security system, and taking a few private protection gigs on the side. He was good at it, not just because of his sharp Lupine senses, his strength and speed, but because he had the mind for it. And the nerves. He didn't flinch and he didn't fail in his duties. Ever.