Page 23 of Fae Devoted (Fae Touched #3)

“A child?” Tucker pulled into the deserted strip mall a couple of blocks from their rented room and less than a mile from DuPont’s Detroit casino, then turned off the engine and waited for the interior to go as dark as the starless sky.

However confident in the security his truck’s insulation provided against supernatural eavesdropping, he still preferred to discuss the sensitive topic somewhere more isolated than their motel parking lot.

“And DuPont didn’t say why Jeremiah was interested in a kidnapped witchling? ”

Although the odds were minuscule that a guest attending a gathering thrown by the powerful patriarch would come to harm, the moment Jo’s phone went dead from the consort’s privacy ward, Tucker found himself drawing on every scrap of willpower to remain inside the truck.

The next twenty minutes of deafening silence were the longest of his life.

The fresh claw marks on the dashboard were a testament to his hard-won battle to deny the ingrained impulse to rush inside the hotel and make sure his she-wolf was safe.

“He said Jeremiah vowed to find her, but not why.” Jo’s fingers entwined with his, her other hand caressing his shoulder. The softness in her touch reassured his still agitated wolf.

“Are they certain a witchling caused the fire?” He couldn’t wrap his head around an eight-year-old capable of destructive magic.

Some pre-Inscription adolescents were capable of producing something the Anwyll called wild magic , a casting made without a learned spell or the additional control of a linked tattoo.

But the workings were minor and most often accidental—literally child’s play.

The complex incantations and ancient runes required to create fire, along with other advanced spells, were gifted exclusively to battle witches and high-ranking Anwyll officials talented enough to master them.

“It’s Charlotte. Jeremiah told the patriarch the witchling’s name is Charlotte Miller.

” Jo scanned the gloomy lot in a daze. “The vampire reporting to the patriarch was adamant the child started it, but how is that even possible? She’s too young.

And when did Jeremiah get involved? Before or after he became an outcast?

The Guard in Charlotte’s former region should be heading the investigation, not a Ferwyn male who couldn’t cross Clan borders a month ago.

Unless…” Her head jerked, her gaze whipping to his.

“What if he’s trying to locate the witchling for the rebels?

He could still be working for them, even as an outcast. But if the Knights of Humanity don’t have Charlotte, who took her, and who murdered her mother?

And where’s her father? You said Jeremiah was compromised by magic, but wouldn’t a witch’s spell have faded by now? Do you think he—”

“Breathe,” Tucker said, capturing a glossy lock of her hair and giving it a light tug. Like the pinches Jo dispensed whenever he wasn’t communicative enough, it was his way of reminding her to relax and slow down. “I don’t think it’s the KoH looking for Jeremiah’s witchling.”

“Then who?” she asked him, her demeanor open, patient, and as always—trusting.

He was afraid it was someone significantly worse than a human group of Fae Touched haters with political connections. Jo needed to know who they were up against as keeping her safe was no longer synonymous with keeping her in the dark.

Tucker was certain Samuel would agree it was time to explain everything.

“Jo…” He smoothed the hair from her brow and cupped her nape.

“Jacob, you know you can trust me with anything.” She latched onto his wrist; her other hand still entangled with his on the console. “And I swear, I can deal with it. I’m tougher than I look.”

“I never wanted you to deal with him at all,” he said, laying his forehead on hers.

“Who’s him? Jeremiah?”

“No, the pureblood Fae.”

“The pureblood… Fae ,” she repeated, tone soft and rife with confusion.

“Yeah, a Sídhe named Lord Daimhín who’s—”

Tucker caught sight of the white SUV barreling toward them seconds before impact.

Instinct took over, and he pressed Jo against his chest. He protected the back of her head with his hand and freed the other to brace against the dash.

She gasped as the passenger side of their vehicle was rammed, the force of the collision sending them spinning across the cracked concrete.

They plowed into the fender of a rusted van on cinderblocks and slid to jarring halt.

“Are you injured?” He pulled her far enough away to examine her face.

“No, I’m fine.” Jo’s expression, along with her scent, switched from shock to fear as four vampires exited the SUV that hit them. The group piled from the vehicle with sleek katanas drawn; the single-edge blades customarily chosen when the intent was to kill. “Jacob!”

“I see them.” He undid his seatbelt and reached into the rear cab, snatching the curved sword and small, round shield stowed underneath the floorboard. “Get the truck started as soon as I leave, then get the hell out of here.”

“I won’t leave you. There’s too many of them.” Unfastening her belt, she retrieved a 9mm semi-automatic pistol from their hidden stash. “If they aren’t going to fight fair, then neither are we.”

Jo was a crack shot. She’d joined her brothers and sire every hunting season since the age of five and was a better marksman than the most of the ESC Guard. He might need her expertise before the night was over.

“Don’t shoot unless—”

“You’re about to lose your head. Got it.” They didn’t need the Detroit PD arriving because of a complaint of shots fired.

“Stay inside.”

“I’ll try.” She racked the gun’s slide.

“Jo—”

“Don’t get killed.”

The vampires were closing fast, and he didn’t have time to argue with his stubborn she-wolf.

“I’ll try not to, baby.” Tucker opened the truck’s door, feeling the fleeting press of Jo’s fingers against his spine as though she were on the verge of grabbing his shirt to prevent him from leaving. “Lock it behind me.”

Tulwar in one hand and plate-sized shield in the other, he bolted from his seat, surprising the armed quartet by charging rather than waiting for them to strike first. The door closed behind him, the lock engaging as he swung his sword at the nearest vampire’s neck.

The male ducked, exposing his companion to the honed outer edge of Tucker’s blade.

His tulwar whistled over the first assailant’s head, cutting through the bone of the second’s arm, and separating it from his shoulder.

The disabled vampire staggered away in shock, losing blood at a startling rate.

One down.

Tucker blocked a downward strike from the third attacker with his shield while lashing out with his sword at the fourth and removing his head.

Another down—permanently.

His opponent’s longer blade slid off his shield, and Tucker slammed it against his sternum. He used the domed surface to drive the vampire backward and avoid the second male’s slash at his knees. A Ferwyn’s strength winning over a Dádhe’s speed.

Tucker heard the pickup’s motor catch, then die. If things went south, Jo wouldn’t have the option of leaving him behind.

Wheeling away from his attackers, he converted the fingertips of the hand holding his shield’s leather strap into claws, the tapered ends lengthening beyond its edge to act as lethal daggers.

Then he took a defensive stance and confronted the two remaining vampires with his sword, shield, fangs, and claws at the ready.

These two wouldn’t be allowed near Jo. He’d die first.

His opponents held their katanas in front of their hips, the swords’ points slightly lifted and directed at Tucker. The pair advanced with caution and then separated, flanking him on either side. He mirrored their movements, rotating in a slow circle, keeping his enemies in his peripheral vision.

Jo tried the ignition switch again; the engine coughed but didn’t turn over.

The vampire on his left stepped forward and thrust the point of his sword at Tucker’s heart.

He deflected the potentially lethal strike with his shield while the other male attacked his now vulnerable side.

The bite of steel sliced a fiery trail from his waist to his hip, the gash burning like liquid fire.

He ignored the pain and plunged his blade between the V-shaped gap created by the Dádhe’s two-handed grip, pressing against the hilt and twisting downward with the curve of his sword.

The violent motion wrenched the katana from the vampire’s grasp and broke his right wrist with a snap.

Whirling to confront the last armed assailant, Tucker sank his sharp claws that jutted over the shield’s rim into the startled male’s upper torso, shredding a path to his stomach. His howl of agony competed with the roar of the truck’s engine.

A single gunshot rang out, and Tucker spun around in time to see a hole appear in the forehead of the vampire behind him. The pistol in the male’s uninjured left hand clattered to the pavement, the body following it to the ground an instant later.

“Jacob,” Jo shouted, jumping from the driver’s seat and sprinting toward him. She hurtled into Tucker’s arms at full speed, and he caught her against him with a grunt, clasping her to his chest with a bloodied palm and shield.

“He was going to shoot you,” she cried, clinging to his neck, a combination of horror and outrage in her voice. “I had to stop him. I…I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

“Shhh, I’m fine.” Tucker was stunned to discover his hand on the small of her back trembled.

“The other one cut you,” she said, attempting to pull from his embrace as if just remembering his wound.

“Stay,” he rasped, pressing her more firmly to his heart, its rapid pulse drumming in his ears. He rubbed his cheek on the top of her head, absorbing her scent into his skin. The thought of Jo alone and vulnerable—sharpshooter or not—left a pain in his chest worse than the fresh gash in his side.