Page 20 of Fae Devoted (Fae Touched #3)

Pressing the mechanism on the magically enhanced object was like throwing a match on an incendiary catalyst, the enchantment spell triggered by a single click.

Exiting the bathroom, he checked the vicinity for any prying eyes, then jammed his shoulder against the hollow metal door to bust the lock and slipped inside to wait for Jo’s arrival.

It was an excruciating five minutes.

“Jacob?” Jo whispered as she cracked the door open.

Tucker swung it just wide enough to yank her inside and shut it behind her. “Were you expecting someone else?”

The closet was deep but narrow, the main three walls filled with shelves brimming with cleaning supplies and paper products. A set of rag mops and rolling yellow buckets were tucked in the rear, leaving minimal floor space.

“Well, no.” She flattened against the rubber-coated metal and tilted her chin to meet his gaze. “But caution was necessary since I’m on a super-secret undercover mission and have to abide by super-secret spy protocol.”

“Spy protocol?” Tucker fought to hide his grin and failed miserably.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, a teasing gleam in her eyes. “But naturally, the procedures are super top secret.”

“Naturally.”

“If I told you, I’d have to kiss you.”

Tucker placed his palms on the door above her head, ensuring it stayed closed and caging her in. He bent until their noses almost touched, the last several hours pushing his restraint to the boiling point. “Kill me. You’d have to kill me.”

“Why ever would I ever want to do that?” she asked, voice breathless and airy.

Giving in to the never-ending temptation that was Jo, he lowered another inch and gently brushed his lips over hers.

Heat ignited at the light touch, and the brief caress he intended to calm his wolf escalated into mouths pressing together in explosive need.

The nails-on-a-chalkboard screech of his claws scraping the metal underneath the padding brought Tucker to his senses, and he broke the kiss on a harsh gasp.

Jo’s forehead landed on his breastbone with a dull thud while his planted against the door with a sharper thwack. Neither spoke, the rasp of their erratic breathing the only communication between them for several minutes.

“What did you find out?” he finally managed.

Jo lifted her head and released a heavy sigh, the sound reminiscent of a Guard instructor disappointed by the actions of a stubborn trainee failing to learn a repeated lesson. “Nothing yet, but I’ve been invited to a party later tonight.”

“By whom?”

“Stephen, the dark-haired witch from the casino. He asked me to go as his date.”

Tucker’s throat rumbled, and Jo absently rubbed his chest, her instincts in tune with his wolf since the beginning of their relationship. Her touch never failed to soothe him, even when she was irritated by Tucker’s overprotective tendencies or those of every other Ferwyn male in her life.

“I think he’s trying to impress me with who’s hosting the party.” She all but buzzed with excitement.

“And who would that be?”

“Patriarch Julien DuPont.”

Julien DuPont was the most powerful vampire in the territory and a total unknown. A wildcard Tucker hadn’t met and didn’t trust.

“Where?”

“The penthouse suite.”

Fear punched Tucker in the gut. The hotel’s top floor was one of the few places he couldn’t access without a special guest key. He’d be nowhere near Jo if there were trouble. “No.”

“I bet he knows everything that’s going on in the city, and every Fae Touched that steps foot inside the Rivière.” She frowned. “Hopefully, not everybody that walks in the door. We don’t want him finding out about you.”

“You’re not going.”

It was as if Tucker hadn’t spoken.

“I doubt there’ll be any shifters attending.

Stephen told me it would be a small gathering to celebrate the patriarch’s consort’s fiftieth birthday.

She’s a witch and Stephen’s cousin. Which, of course, makes her a witch, duh.

Anyhoo, can you believe how lucky it was to meet him? It had to be fate.”

“You’ll be on your own.”

“I’ll leave my phone on speaker. You’ll be able to hear everything.”

He swore under his breath. “I don’t like it.”

“We can’t miss this opportunity. I can feel it, Jacob. He’ll know something. An outcast like your brother wouldn’t have gone unnoticed by the resident vamps.”

“No, not with the damage on his face.”

“You never mentioned Jeremiah was wounded the last time you saw him.”

“Not wounded, Jo. Scarred.” Leaving a single hand on the door as a precaution, Tucker ran his forefinger in a curved line from his right temple to the corner of his mouth. “Jeremiah is permanently disfigured.”

“Maybe he was cut with wrought iron.” Jo shuddered, pulled his hand from where it still hovered beside his lips, and threaded their fingers together. “Injuries caused by the purest ore can prolong the healing time.”

He shook his head, teeth clenched. “It’s an old scar.”

“Do you know when it happened? Or how?”

“Not when.”

“But you can guess how?”

“Yeah,” he said with resignation. “I have an idea why it didn’t heal, but it’s not a conversation we should get into here.” It wasn’t a conversation Tucker ever wanted to have with Jo anywhere, but he may not be able to avoid it much longer.

“Okay, you can explain your theory when we have more time. I need to return to Stephen before he loses interest and asks someone else to be his plus-one.”

Tucker snorted. No chance of that happening.

“I wish you would have told me this sooner. The uniqueness of a shifter with scarring on his face will make finding him so much easier. I’m not happy that Jeremiah was hurt, and I’m gonna be pissed if it turns out it wasn’t a freak accident, but how many shifters can there be like him?

” She grinned, enthusiasm returning in force. “My guess is exactly one.”

Jo rose to the balls of her feet and kissed him on the chin. “We’re going to find your brother before he turns feral, Jacob. Everything is going to be fine. You’ll see.”

Her confidence was unshakeable, but she didn’t know about the existence of a Elven Lord and his connection to Jeremiah. “I haven’t told you everything.”

“Yet. You haven’t told me everything yet .” She untangled their fingers and patted him on the chest. “But you will.”

“Jo—” His throat closed, her faith in him humbling. He didn’t deserve this female, but he was going to keep her anyway. Somehow.

“I better go.” She turned and tugged on the handle. Tucker held it shut. “Jacob, open the door.”

“Be at the truck in thirty minutes.”

“I’ll need at least sixty.”

He heard a smile in her voice, and his eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I need to tell Stephen goodbye, for one.” She tugged on the handle again. “Unless he’s one of the legendary battle witches everyone whispers about, which I doubt, we don’t have to worry about him smelling you on me.”

“And the other reason?”

“I have to buy a dress for tonight. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure there aren’t any shifters in the store before going in.”

“Thirty. We both need to get some shut-eye.” He’d sleep on the floor.

“Forty-five? I am a little tired.”

A little? Jo was dead on her feet. They both were. However much Jo pretended otherwise, he knew she only dozed in the truck.

“The party doesn’t start until midnight.” She looked at her watch. “That’ll still give me time to catch a couple of hours sleep before meeting Stephen. And if I wanna make the most of my feminine wiles, I shouldn’t look like a walking corpse.”

“Wiles?” Tucker chuckled.

“Hey.” She elbowed him in the stomach. “I have wiles.”

“You do,” he agreed, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his chin on her head. “Super-secret feminine ones.”

“And don’t you forget it.” Jo stepped into his embrace, leaning her weight against him.

“I won’t.” He scrubbed the scruff on his jaw across her hair, marking his skin with her scent before opening the door and letting her go. “I won’t.”