Page 14 of Fae Devoted (Fae Touched #3)

“Um…” Her instincts couldn’t be trusted anymore.

“What does your gut say?”

“She-wolfs aren’t blind to the initial draw of a potential truemate,” she stalled.

“And?”

“And…” She pushed aside her uncertainty for the moment and told her friend the truth, “I feel this incredible zing when I’m with Jacob.”

“The pull.” Abby nodded. Even non-shifters sensed that special something with a potential Ferwyn mate, even if they chalked it up to insane chemistry.

“But Jacob’s holding back for some reason.” Her gaze landed on her lap again. “Or maybe I’m wrong, and he feels nothing at all.”

“I think,” Abby hesitated, biting her lip again. Never a good sign.

“If you know something, please tell me.”

“I believe Tucker does want you. The way he looks at you—”

“How does he look at me?” She held her breath.

A soft smile. “Like Samuel looks at me.”

“Yeah?” And there it was again. That little bitch called hope .

“Yeah, and although I can’t say why,” she held up her hand when Johnnie opened her mouth to protest. “Can’t, not won’t. But—”

“But?”

“Tucker may be trying to protect you by delaying the Dance. And Johnnie,” she said, seeming to choose her words carefully. “His reasons have validity.”

“That only makes sense if he has doubts about us being truemates. A failed mating would put a serious damper on our friendship.” She almost snorted at the massive understatement.

“Or…Jacob’s waiting until after he returns from finding his brother to ask me to start the Dance.

” Johnnie frowned, thinking out loud. “But if Jeremiah’s been spotted in our Clan’s territory, how long could it take for him and the Guard to find him? And why not ask me to wait?”

A strange noise came from Abby’s throat, the sound somewhere between a hiccup and a gurgle.

“Abby?”

“Hmmm?” She grabbed the discarded towel and scrubbed at her hair, her face hidden by curling locks not yet tamed by a blow dryer and strategically placed terrycloth.

“Abigail Colleen MacCarthy,” she said the last quietly although the pool area was empty of all but the two of them. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I shouldn’t say anything.”

“Shouldn’t,” Johnnie persisted, pouncing on the subtle distinction. “Not can’t. If there’s anything you can reveal without endangering the Na’fhuil or breaking Samuel’s trust, anything at all, please tell me.”

Abby was going to chew her lip raw.

“Please.”

“Okay, maybe there’s something.” She looked over her shoulder, then scooted closer before saying, “Samuel’s concerned that Tucker is insisting on finding Jeremiah on his own.”

“He’s not taking a team with him?” Didn’t Jacob say he was earlier at the apartment? Or had Johnnie just assumed?

“No, he’s not.”

“I can understand wanting to speak with Jeremiah alone under the circumstances.” Jacob would need assurance his brother wasn’t still with the rebels before relaying Samuel’s offer to join the Walker Pack.

“Yes, but…” Abby shook her head, strands of damp hair sticking to her cheeks, her frustration palpable.

“But what?”

“Samuel’s worried he’ll get caught before he finds him.” Her unearthly blue eyes stared into Johnnie’s hazel ones, trying to convey something, but what exactly?

“Why would he worry about Jacob getting caught in his own terri…tory?” No, he wouldn’t, would he?

Abby started drying her hair again, a satisfied smile on her pretty face.

“I gotta go,” Johnnie said, jumping to her feet and bolting toward the exit.

“What are you gonna do?” Abby shouted at her.

Johnnie slapped the double doors open. “Talk some sense into a stubborn Ferwyn.”

Johnnie didn’t have time to knock, the door cracking open before she reached Jacob’s front porch.

“Jo, what are you doing here?” Longing flashed in his coffee-colored eyes but was gone in the next instant, making her doubt it’d been there at all. He stepped outside carrying an old leather duffle and closed the door behind him.

“I was hoping to catch you before you left.” She spoke to his broad back, his big body hiding the keypad as he set the electronic lock.

It engaged with a soft burring that sounded like a death knell.

The revelation Jacob might not be rejecting her out of disinterest gave her hope for the future, but even if it turned out she wasn’t his truemate, Johnnie couldn’t let him go after Jeremiah alone.

I can do this. I will do this. If Abby thinks Ferwyn males are stubborn, she ain’t seen nothing yet.

“I’m heading out now.” He avoided her eyes and skirted past without touching her, walking toward his truck. He didn’t look back.

Johnnie took a deep breath and followed, her eyes adjusting to the darkness beyond the reach of the bright porch lights.

“Jeremiah’s not in the ESC,” she stated with all the finesse of a chainsaw cutting through butter. Desperate times, desperate measures.

Jacob’s spine went rigid, his hand freezing on the handle of his pickup.

She crossed her arms and waited. Johnnie was getting damn good at waiting.

Who’d a thunk?

The tortured song of nearby cicadas cut through the late night’s quiet, near-silence hanging between them like a damp, heavy curtain—early fall in the South little more than an extension of summer.

The humid breeze blew strands of her hair into her face, but Johnnie ignored them, preserving her what’ve-you-got-to-say-now stance instead of brushing the annoying pieces away.

Jacob cast his gaze skyward as if asking for divine intervention, bag landing with a thud on the pavement.

“Has Samuel gotten clearance for you to travel outside our region?” she plowed on, already knowing the answer.

Even a powerful príoh with his monarch’s full support couldn’t cut through the thick red tape involved in obtaining permission for a Ferwyn male to cross Clan lines on short notice. The Fae Touched bureaucracy wasn’t all that different from the human’s government in that regard.

“No?” Arms still folded, she moved close enough to see his jaw clench in irritation.

Too damn bad, she was just getting started.

“I know you wouldn’t think of exposing the queen to harsh sanctions by the other eight monarchs if you took her private jet, and commercial flights of any kind are out of the question for obvious reasons, which leaves… ”

“I’m driving,” Jacob hissed through what Johnnie guessed were grinding teeth, his lips barely moving.

“Because that’s a brilliant idea.” She held in a snort. “Not.”

He must have given up on receiving guidance from beyond the stars, turning toward her with eyes narrowed to slits.

Johnnie held his stare and her ground as he closed the space between them with masculine grace and primal power in each slow step.

“What was the plan, Jacob? You can’t justify your presence in another príoh’s territory without the benefit of an outcast’s standing.”

He stopped a mere foot in front of her. His hands braced on narrow hips. “Backyard, Jo.”

“I suppose staying off the main highways could work if you’re lucky enough to avoid other shifters while stopping for minor things like, oh…

gas and food.” She pushed out her hip and tapped her chin with her index finger.

“But the bigger issue is how to find Jeremiah without the ability to question the local packs? Hmmm, how did you plan to accomplish that one?”

Jacob snatched her hand from her face and pivoted on his heel, practically dragging her to his fenced-in yard.

Johnnie kept talking, pressing the advantage.

“Every male shifter within thirty feet will sense your Clan ranking and realize you don’t belong in the territory.

And once they do, they’ll either turn you over to their Alpha or report you to the nearest Guard member.

” He latched the gate behind them and kept going. “Or worse.”

Jacob’s fingers flexed on hers, but he didn’t ask her to elaborate; he understood interregional law better than she did.

“Even if you managed to fool them for more than a hot minute, which is doubtful.” She did snort then. “How were you going to make them talk about Jeremiah?”

He stopped on the edge of his new patio, and Johnnie couldn’t restrain her curiosity after months dying for a peek at the renovation he so zealously guarded.

Six Adirondack chairs were placed around a circular stone fire pit.

A built-in grill and an outdoor kitchenette made of the same material were on the paved area’s furthest corner.

It was too dark for a she-wolf’s night vision, or anyone’s except for a vampire’s, to discern the flagstone’s exact color, but maybe light grays and blues?

Boxwoods and fall flowers lined the wood decking that ran nearly the length of his house, a tall pergola covering casual wicker furniture and French doors Johnnie assumed led to the kitchen she’d yet to see.

All the island lots were small by necessity, but the backyard didn’t feel crowded.

The landscaping architect had known their stuff. It was beautiful.

“Have to try,” he said, releasing her hand and drawing her undivided attention.

“I know you do, and that’s why I wanted to talk to you before you left. I have an idea.” She clenched her empty hand, already missing his warmth. His touch. “A good one.”

This has to work.

“What is it?” He sounded wary. Smart male.

“What if someone went with you to act as a buffer on your behalf? A person who didn’t require copious amounts of paperwork to travel between regions, someone you could trust implicitly. Someone that other Fae Touched…other shifters would never suspect?”

Jacob frowned.

“A person with a legit reason to want to find Jeremiah.”

“Who?” His muscled arms folded over his massive chest as though challenging her to name anyone who could fill the impossible role.

Johnnie accepted the challenge, thrust her chin high, and said, “Me.”