Page 47 of Fae Devoted (Fae Touched #3)

“I don’t know.” An adult female?

Johnnie sniffed—a human? Her eyelids flickered but refused to open on command.

Who are these people, and why can’t I remember?

Although warmly cocooned between a mound of blankets and an incredibly soft mattress, her body ached from head to toe.

The bulk of the discomfort seemed to be centered on her hands and wrists.

Her arms felt weighted and heavy. As if anchored to the silken sheets beneath her palms. She frowned.

That wasn’t right either. The sheets at Remington’s hotel were cotton, weren’t they?

The harsh lighting in the room stabbed at her closed lids, and she groaned.

Head pounding, Johnnie attempted to pull the covers over her eyes and gasped.

Her wrists burned like hellfire. She sucked in a breath, her pulse throbbing in mad tempo with the unbearable pain, recollection coming at her in fast-moving snippets.

The Director. The Fae. The facility…

Jacob!

Struggling to sit up, she searched for their bond. The hated iron circling her wrists shifted with the jarring movement. Her head swam, and the edge of her vision darkened.

“Wait, let me help you.” Running water, then hurried steps coming closer. Hands slid under her armpits and tugged until Johnnie was propped against the cushioned headboard, then let her go.

“How long,” she asked through gritted teeth, eyes squeezed shut, saliva pooling in her mouth. She drew in several deep breaths through her nose and tried not to vomit.

“How long have you been unconscious?” A cool, wet washcloth was laid over her brow. “I don’t know. You were here when Charlie and I were brought into the room. That was about an hour ago.”

After being injected with what Dr. Richards admitted was an experimental truth serum and subjected to a battery of leading questions, Johnnie had blessedly passed out from the combination of drugs and iron poisoning without revealing a damn thing.

The government couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of Clan or the strength of a pack bond.

No one and nothing, with the exception of her Alpha or Príoh—and perhaps a relentless Elven Lord—could compel a magically bound Ferwyn to do or say anything they choose not to.

“Miss Hannah, is she gonna die like Mama did?”

“Oh, honey, no, but she’s not feeling very well right now.”

“Does her tummy hurt?”

Johnnie removed the damp cloth, holding in a groan as the cuffs rubbed against her abused skin.

“Wait, let me dim the lights before you attempt to open your eyes again.” The brightness lessened a moment later. “Better?”

“Yes, much.” Johnnie blinked, and the woman’s features came slowly into focus. Shoulder-length blond hair framed a pretty, square-shaped face with full lips, which were currently downturned, and troubled grayish-blue eyes.

“Time?”

“Around seven.”

“At night?”

The young girl standing behind Hannah giggled. She wore a ponytail, jeans, and a pastel pink sweater.

“Charlie, will you get the she-wolf a glass of water, please?”

Charlie…Charlotte.

“Yes, ma’am.” Charlotte nodded but ambled toward Johnnie and away from the open bathroom door, her sneakered feet shuffling across the plush carpeting.

Hannah’s arm shot out to act as a barrier between the brunette witchling and the king-sized bed. Attention never leaving Johnnie, she urged in a calm but no-nonsense tone, “The water, Charlie.”

The air stank with worry and apprehension. Why was this woman so afraid of a she-wolf who could barely lift her head? Of any shifter at all?

“Yes,” Hannah cleared her throat, the skin around her large, expressive eyes pinched. “And it’s Tuesday if you were wondering.

Johnnie sagged against the padding at her back. She hadn’t been unconscious long.

“Thank you,” she said, then waited for the faucet to turn on before speaking. The witchling didn’t appear to have the same trepidation as Hannah regarding her presence, but Johnnie didn’t want to put any ideas in her impressionable head. “No Ferwyn would ever harm a child.”

No Ferwyn who wasn’t feral or under a Sídhe’s longtime control that is.

“I don’t know if those claims are true or sheer propaganda.” The woman’s shoulders pushed back, and she raised her chin, although her fingers twisted together in front of her slender waistline. “I won’t take the risk with that little girl’s life.”

Propaganda? Johnnie had to remember this human was presumably a paid employee working for a covert government agency that manipulated and imprisoned Abby and Conlan for years.

An organization which in all likelihood was responsible for the Willow twins’ disappearance and shackling her in debilitating iron prior to confirming she was more than a simple trespasser who’d stumbled through their ward.

“I swear I won’t hurt her…or you.”

“No, you won’t.” Her sharp jawline firmed, hands breaking apart to lower and ball at her sides.

A human would be virtually defenseless against any of the magical races under ordinary circumstances, even equipped with a gun, which Hannah wasn’t. But Johnnie didn’t doubt her determination to defend the orphaned child. The woman’s aversion to the Fae Touched didn’t seem to extend to Charlotte.

The witchling returned to the main room, tongue clamped between her teeth and the glass in both hands, transporting the overflowing cup with mincing steps.

Johnnie raised her manacled wrists with an unavoidable grimace, then painfully positioned them over her stomach to appear less threatening. The last thing she wanted to do was scare a child or her caregiver.

Hannah halted her advance several feet shy of the bed. “I’ll give it to her, honey.”

“Okay.” Charlotte’s shoulders slumped.

The witchling smelled of vanilla pods freshly scraped free of its seeds, like all Anwyll did when not performing a spell, yet somehow richer…smokier. She could almost taste the flavor of warm vanilla on her tongue.

“Take small sips.” The authoritative tone she used on Charlotte returned as she tipped the glass to Johnnie’s mouth and encouraged her to drink.

“Thank you,” she said again, managing the pretense of a smile for Charlotte’s sake. “I feel much better now.”

“You’re welcome.” Her tiny chest puffed out, and a wide grin with a missing tooth in the front graced her adorable face.

Hannah set the glass on the cherry-wood end table, her gaze falling to the thick bands clasped around Johnnie’s swollen wrists. “The doc was here a few minutes before you woke up and gave you something to help with the pain. You should feel better soon.”

As long as iron touched bare skin, better would remain a relative term.

If the Director was truly concerned with her comfort while still keeping her restrained, why didn’t he order the damaging metal exchanged for a less toxic pair of carbon and aluminum steel handcuffs strong enough to hold a she-wolf?

And why bother ordering a human painkiller when it wouldn’t last?

Her Ferwyn metabolism would burn off any drug within record time, although the iron would delay the process.

“Why are you here, Hannah?” Moreover, why was Johnnie being kept in an elegant suite instead of a locked cell?

“The Director asked us to—”

“It’s Miss Hannah,” Charlotte piped up, hurling past the stunned human who lunged too late and missed the incredibly fast Anwyll.

“Charlie—” she sputtered. Hannah’s empty hand extended toward the witchling who flopped her petite torso on the mattress near Johnnie’s legs with an excruciating bounce.

“She’s my teacher,” Charlotte happily explained with a slight lisp and a Southern lilt.

Fear tinged the air again and Hannah’s gaze flew to the closed exit, then back to Johnnie. Even in her weakened condition, they both knew she could kill the child before the woman called for the soldiers no doubt guarding the outside of the door.

“And my name’s Charlotte Ann Miller, but my friends call me Charlie,” she continued, blissfully unaware of her teacher’s distress. Her grin suddenly drooped, and she stared at her hands. “At least they used to before Mama died. I don’t get to have friends anymore. Not in this stupid place.”

“Well…” Johnnie kept her tone soft-spoken and her expression open, hopefully reassuring the nervous human.

“My real name is Joan Helen Long, but everyone calls me Johnnie. And I’d love to be your friend if you’ll have me.

” The Director would retrieve her name from her phone soon anyway if he hadn’t already.

Hannah’s hand covered her mouth and tears threatened, but she nodded. Trusting Johnnie to uphold her prior claim of never harming a child.

“You would?” Charlie sniffled and rubbed at her button nose, gorgeous sapphire eyes glistening. “We both have boy names.”

“But Charlotte is a lovely name, and Joan is absolutely dreadful.” She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. The analgesic must have kicked in somewhat because she remained conscious, and her stomach contents stayed where they belonged. Charlie giggled again, making the discomfort worth it.

“Who’s Jacob?” she asked, rolling onto her back, spindly legs hanging over the edge of the huge bed.

“Jacob is…” She hesitated, then grasped her wolf necklace.

It gave her a measure of comfort to touch the heart-shaped pendant with her fingers, despite the pain the movement caused.

It was possible the facility hadn’t uncovered her intimate connection to a prominent Clan’s beta.

A relationship the Director might somehow use to his advantage.

But her male was known as Tucker to almost everyone except her, and there were a lot of Jacobs in the world. “Um…my boyfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend?” Charlie squealed, and Johnnie braced as the witchling flipped onto her stomach and propped on her elbows. “Is he cute? I bet he’s cute.”

“Don’t forget Miss Johnnie isn’t feeling well.” Hannah sat on the bed, her body wedged between Johnnie and her student. The human would have made a wonderful she-wolf, though she reminded her more of a mama bear at the moment. “Be gentle.”

“Oh, sorry,” she whispered, chin quivering.

“It’s fine.” Johnnie mock frowned at the chastised witchling. “But no more bouncing on the bed unless you want to see what I ate for lunch.”

“Ewwww.” Charlie’s laugh brought a genuine smile to Hannah’s face, but it vanished when the Director entered the suite, wearing a different but still wrinkled suit. Two soldiers she didn’t recognize from earlier followed him inside. They left the door open.

“Good evening, ladies.” The Director folded his hands in front of his hips and looked directly at Charlie. “And Miss Charlotte, how are you tonight?”

“Okay.” She sat up and scooted closer to her teacher.

“Did you like the chocolate sundae I sent to your room after dinner?”

“I guess.”

“Thank the Director properly for the treat, Charlie.” Hannah’s arm wrapped protectively around her slim shoulders.

Johnnie heard the strain in the human’s voice, though she tried to hide it.

“Thank you for the ice cream, sir.”

“You’re very welcome. Miss Eriksen’s latest reports state you’ve been progressing wonderfully in your lessons the past few weeks, and I thought you deserved a reward.”

“Can I go to the park again if I promise not to—”

“Charlie, hush,” Hannah interrupted, her face paling.

The Director’s grandfatherly smile wavered then reset as his attention turned to Johnnie. “Dr. Richards informed me he gave you something for the pain.” His lips stretched to display polished, white teeth. “Tell me, Miss Long. Has it helped?”

Miss Long.

“It has.” She had no intention of asking him to remove the iron bands.

The man knew as well as she did the analgesic concoction wouldn’t last. And it might be better if Charlie didn’t figure out that it was the cuffs making her sick and come to the realization the facility could use the bracelets on a Fae Touched child as well as an adult.

The witchling seemed to be distrustful of the Director already.

Her body language and scent broadcast a caution that was either an instinctual response to a nearby predator or a wariness subtly cultivated by her teacher.

Bottom line, Johnnie believed Hannah Eriksen had Charlie’s best interests at heart and would trust in her expert opinion on how much frightening information an eight-year-old could handle—for now.

“Director, it’s getting close to Charlie’s bedtime, and she still needs to take her bath.

” Hannah rose slowly but awkwardly from the high bed; a tight pencil skirt made it tricky unless she wanted to flash the Director or disturb Johnnie needlessly.

After smoothing the black fabric over her thighs, she turned and helped Charlie climb down. “If we could—”

“Did you enjoy your visit with the she-wolf tonight?” He crouched in front of the witchling and spoke to her at eye level. Hannah stiffened and tucked Charlie into her side. The Director pretended not to notice, his artificial smile intact.

Hannah nudged her to answer.

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled, the hole in her top teeth causing the S’s to sound like TH . “She’s nice.”

“That she is,” he agreed amicably. “Would you like to visit her again?”

Charlie twisted to look at Johnnie, her gap-toothed smile wide and oh so innocent. “Yes, she’s my friend.”

“If you continue to do well in your lessons and obey Miss Eriksen and the other trainers, I’ll see what I can do.” His eyes flicked upwards, gaze still warm and friendly when they settled on Johnnie. “Good girls get rewards like chocolate ice cream and playdates with their new friends.”

And what did bad girls get? Was he threatening me or Charlie?

“I’ll be a good girl. I promise.”

“Director, it really is getting late.” Hannah’s fingers trembled as they ran down Charlie’s long ponytail.

“Of course.” He straightened and adjusted his suit jacket. “Sergeant Gentry, please escort the ladies to their rooms.”

“Yes, sir.” The shorter of the uniformed men stepped into the hallway to wait.

“Come on, honey.” Hannah held her hand and headed toward the door.

Charlie tugged free and raced back to the bed. “I’ll be good. You’ll see.”

“Oh sweetie, I know you will.” Johnnie’s heart broke for the precious child. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

No kid, pup, or witchling deserved to grow up isolated and afraid in a place like this. Studied, trained, and used as a commodity like Abby and Conlan were once.

“Okay.” She waved and skipped to an anxious Hannah. “Bye, Miss Johnnie.”

“Bye, Charlie.” No matter what she had to do, or what she had to risk, Johnnie wasn’t leaving the facility without that child.

And Jacob would agree. She was sure of it.