She's No Faerie Princess (14 page)

Walker fought to keep from frowning. What offer?

Fiona shook her head. "I'm happy just as I am, Uncle. The last thing I want infringing on my free time is theresponsibility that comes with being anyone's heir. Evenyours."

A dull buzzing droned in Walker's ears. Dionnu hadoffered to name Fiona his heir? And she hadn't felt itnecessary to mention that earlier?

"Besides," she continued, "if I accepted, I'd have to officially declare allegiance to a single court, and that would be just miserable. Right now, I can move freely between the two, which is a privilege I'm not eager to give up." She smiled archly at her uncle. "You have no idea how many interesting things I hear when I travel between the courts."

"No," Dionnu agreed, eyebrows arching, "but I would dearly love to. Have another sip of
 
hal
, my dear, and tell your uncle Dionnu all about it."

By the time he followed Fiona out of the apartment, Walker's jaw had clenched so tight, he figured he hadmolars in his sinus cavities.

Doing an impression of wallpaper while the princessdabbled in palace intrigue had nearly driven him out ofhis mind. At least he retained enough common sense notto call her on it the second they stepped into the elevator. He knew a building like this would have cameras, and hewasn't dumb enough to break character where theremight be witnesses. He also wasn't in any mood at themoment to ask her to tamper with the surveillanceequipment. He played dumb and silent all the way to thebuilding's front doors, where the same doorman who hadlet them in barely glanced up from his newspaper whenthey strolled past.

Walker's frown deepened. "What happened to Mr. Eager-to-Please?"

"The glamour wore off. It wasn't a very strong one, but it only needed to last long enough to get us in. Which it did. No one cares much when someone leaves a building, as long as they're not carrying someone else's stereo."

He felt a muscle twitch in his temple. "Did you do a spellon your clothes, too?"

"Well, yeah." She pushed out the building doors and turned to stride down the sidewalk. "I told you, it would not have been a good idea to show up in his sitting room wearing your cast-offs. Very bad form."

Walker had no trouble matching his gait to hers. What hehad trouble with was keeping his hands from wrappingaround her throat. Or her hips. "Last night you said you'd

used up all your magic. You said you couldn't even bring

back our clothes after you made them disappear."

"And I couldn't. I wasn't lying." She glanced over at him

and frowned. "I wouldn't lie about something like that."

"Then how did you get enough magic back today to cast

two spells when just last night you couldn't even do one?"

He saw her wince and wondered if calculating squareroots in his head would keep him from tearing out his hairin the middle of Park Avenue. Or maybe just pinning heragainst the wall and pushing that flirtatious skirt uparound her waist.

She pursed her lips and kept her eyes straight ahead. "Irecharged."

"How?"

She sighed. "Look, can we possibly wait to talk about thisuntil we don't have an audience of eight million watchingus fight?"

He put his hand on the back of her neck beneath the fallof her hair and squeezed in warning. "Don't think of themas eight million strangers watching us fight. Think of themas eight million eyewitnesses keeping me from chokingyou for fear of state prosecution."

"Well, when you put it that way," she muttered. She stepped out of the flow of pedestrian traffic and into the alley created by the service entrance behind the building.

"Look," she said, "I wasn't lying to you last night, and I wasn't playing games. I did burn out my magic last night, and I did get a recharge this morning."

He leaned over her and fought not to growl somethinginsulting. "When? You haven't been out of my sight since I woke up."

She made a face. "I didn't need to be out of your sight. Infact… you kinda helped."

Oh, he suddenly really didn't like where this was headed. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he demanded, "How? How did I help you recharge your magical battery? I thought you said you couldn't use the magic here?"

"I can't. Not the way I can use what's in Faerie. But if the

magic is… changed a little, things are different."

"Changed?"

"Filtered."

Her meaning came through as clear as tar. He shook hishead. "Filtered how? And even if that's true, where didyou get it? I've been with you all day. I would havenoticed if you'd suddenly collected a shitload of energythat hadn't been there a second—"

He froze.

The truth hit him with the impact of a meteor landingsmack-dab in the middle of his forehead and bouncingtwice for good luck. Him. He was the "filter." Their kiss infront of her uncle's building was what had charged up herbattery. Even Walker had known their embrace had beenelectric, but he hadn't guessed she could literally gatherthe energy that flared between them and use it to domagic. She had fed off of him, like a vampire. Onlysomehow what she'd taken bothered him more than acouple of tooth marks on his jugular.

His back stiffened and his hand fell from her neck. Hedidn't even realize he'd taken a step away from her untilhe saw the look on her face. She gazed back at him witha mix of bravado, hurt, and disappointment.

"I didn't mean to," she said when he continued to stare at her. "I wasn't planning it. I just needed to see my uncle, and when the doorman wouldn't let us up… I panicked. I'm not used to having to deal without magic. I guess I'm spoiled. I couldn't think of anything else to do. And then I looked at you and you looked so mad and irritated and sexy… and…" She broke off and looked down at the cement beneath her feet. "I'm sorry."

Walker shook his head, not saying a word, and tookanother step away from her. Then he kept going, headingfor the street and practically stepping in front of the firstcab he spotted. When the driver squealed to a halt, Walker grabbed Fiona by the arm and hustled her intothe taxi. He barked an address at the driver and walkedaround the hood to slide into the front seat. If he tried toget in back with the princess just then, he was afraid he'ddo something stupid.

He was also afraid to look at her face in the sedan'srearview mirror, so he kept his eyes on the streets thatsped by outside his window and tried to ignore the sickfeeling of knowing the kiss that had turned his world onits axis had only been the means to her end.

Serves you right
, his inner voice sneered.
 
That's whatyou get for falling in lust with a princess
.

CHAPTER 11

Fiona huddled in the corner of the plushly upholsteredsofa and hugged her knees to her chest with one handwhile the other clutched a slim remote control. Her thumbpressed automatically on the button to surf through thefive hundred channels, but she didn't really see what wason any of them. All her attention was focused on the sickfeeling in the pit of her stomach that she felt whenevershe thought about the cab ride back to Vircolac, whichwas pretty much constantly. So she flipped and brooded,flipped and brooded.

Her Sunday-go-to-Dionnu's clothes had been replaced bya pair of black yoga pants and an oversize knit top. Shedidn't know who they belonged to or where they hadcome from. Someone had pressed them into her hands afew minutes after Walker had abandoned her in the club'sfront hall. She didn't remember who had given them toher; she didn't even remember who had let them in thefront door or who it was Walker had left her with. Sheonly remembered that Walker had refused to speak toher and that the taxi had been full of chilly silence. Hehadn't even looked at her when he dropped her off—justleft her standing in the hallway, growled something abouttaking some personal time, and disappeared againwithout so much as a backward glance. The man reallyknew how to stroke a girl's ego.

To be fair, the doorman, or whoever it was Walker hadstuck her with, had been very kind. She couldn't recall his

name or even what he looked like, but she had registered his solicitous air and how he'd bustled her off to this private little den at the back of the club's second floor. He'd tried to offer her something to eat, something to drink, but the concept of swallowing remained beyond her. The clothes must have come from him, too, she guessed. He'd waited patiently outside the door while she changed and had taken her skirt and top away with him when he left. To have them laundered, she might have heard him say.

Since then, she'd been curled up on this sofa, idly staringat the flickering television screen, unable to muster upany interest in anything. The uncomfortable, churningfeeling in her stomach was as unpleasant as it wasunfamiliar. She didn't quite know what to call it, but sheknew Walker had put it there, and she knew she wantedit to go away. Right now.

She just didn't understand mortals. Okay, so maybe theytended to be sort of wary of magic, but Walker was Other,not human, and it wasn't like she'd been using magic onhim. She hadn't ensorcelled him; she hadn't even put himunder a glamour. And she hadn't been taking his magic,either. It wasn't her fault that every time they touched,magic just happened. It took her as much by surprise asit had him. No one had ever made her feel anything likethe jolt of heat and energy that hit her every time their lipsmet, and asking her not to absorb that magic amountedto asking her not to absorb any oxygen when shebreathed. There was no way.

But as often as Fiona tried to explain that to herself, shestill huddled on the sofa, pouting and staring and feelingthat horrible roiling in the pit of her stomach. She didn't

even look up when the door to the den opened. The doorman-or-whoever had stuck his head in every so often to check on her, but whatever was wrong with her, he couldn't fix it.

"You were right." Instead of the doorman-or-whoever's soothing baritone, the new voice coining from the doorway sounded husky but feminine and a little bit impatient. "It does look like an emergency."

"Absolutely. It's intervention time, and I can see we're not

a minute too soon."

The addition of a second woman's voice stirred Fiona'scuriosity enough for her to turn her head. Two womenstood in the doorway, both blond, both in their earlythirties, and both staring at Fiona with expressions ofmixed sympathy and exasperation.

"Move out of the way and let me set down this tray." The second woman spoke again, nudging the other one forward and following her into the room. The second woman's hands were full of a large wooden tray that she set on the cocktail table in front of Fiona. Then she sat on the sofa beside her and faced her with a smile. "Once we get some tea in you, we can get acquainted. Trust me. Everything seems more manageable after a cup of

Tess's tea."

"It ought to," the first woman said, settling herself on the floor in front of the coffee table and reaching for a gently steaming teapot. "This is my special 'All Men Are Blockheaded Idiots' blend."

"Around here, we drink a lot of it." The second woman

accepted two mugs of the brew and handed one to

Fiona.

"Um, thanks, but I'm really not thirsty."

"Drink it," the woman on the floor ordered, her bright blue

eyes narrowed.

Bemused, Fiona found herself accepting the mug andsniffing the fragrant beverage. It smelled of herbs andflowers and rich earth, enticing her in spite of herself.

"Really. It will make you feel better. Clear your head."

The one beside her gave her a sweet, encouraging smile. "You'll need a clear head if you're going to find the right way to make the man pay." Fiona choked on her tea. "Oops! Careful. It's hot. By the way, I'm Missy, and this is Tess. She owns a tea and herb shop in the East Milage."

"Nice to meet you." Tess grinned. She had a headful of rioting golden curls and innocent feminine features dominated by big blue eyes with a distinctly wicked glint. She wore a hip-hugging pair of faded blue jeans and a low-cut sweater the color of ripe berries. If it hadn't been for her lush, earthy curves, Fiona might have mistaken her for another Fae at first glance. A nymph, maybe. She definitely had her fingers in some magic. The glow of it suffused her fair skin with light and energy. She had to be one of the mortal magic users—a witch. "It's always encouraging to see new blood joining the Sisterhood."

"The Sisterhood?"

"The Benevolent and Protective Order of Women with Idiot Men on Their Hands. But 'The Sisterhood' fit better on the stationery."

"Tess can get a little carried away with the solidarity

imagery." Missy grinned.

Though also blond, Missy's hair was long and fine andnearly straight, a dark ashy shade that should havelooked mousy but instead acted as a perfect frame to setoff the sweetness and purity of her features. Her round,rosy cheeks and wide hazel eyes gave her an angelicgirl-next-door look that was entirely human andcompletely enchanting. She had pulled her hair back intoa wispy ponytail in keeping with the image, and herpetite, curvy form was covered by a pair of snug grayyoga pants and what looked like a man's chambray shirt. The sleeves were rolled up nearly to the shoulder seams,and the tails bounced around her knees.

"If Tess tries to show you the secret handshake, just