Page 6 of Fae Devoted (Fae Touched #3)

T ucker watched Jo from across the crowded club as she moved to the music on the dance floor. Penny Doyle wiggled and whirled alongside her, the human unwisely flirting with a vampire who kept licking his lips.

Vampires had one use for unturned humanity—food.

It was an unpleasant truth the Dádhe didn’t share with the Untouched masses, at least not until the human was under an ironclad two-year Feeder’s contract that legally ensured their discretion.

Those eager volunteers who provided sustenance in the interim received the romanticized version of the blood exchange, a vampire’s seductive magic manipulating a human’s emotions and leaving the impression of a far more intimate encounter.

The altered experience perpetuated the myth that the Untouched were more than just a warm meal.

Guard Tohopka Blackwater loomed on the outskirts of the writhing mob. Hop’s legs were braced apart, and his arms were folded as he scowled at the Dádhe hankering after his charge’s carotid.

The Ferwyn warrior was assigned to Penny’s protection team after the Elven Lord’s non-magical descendant, Derek Cull, used the boisterous human to kidnap Samuel’s mate.

Cull hadn’t been seen since Abby’s dramatic rescue a little over a month ago, but they weren’t taking any chances with her friend’s life until the bastard was found.

Penny shimmied closer to Jo and shouted in her ear. She tilted her chin toward the glowering guard, and the pair burst into laughter. The pounding music, distance, and rubber earplugs every hearing sensitive Fae Touched wore at loud gatherings dampened the cheerful sound.

Tucker didn’t need to hear it. Jo’s honeyed tones were imprinted in his memory for all time.

His primal side knew the beautiful she-wolf was his on the day they met. Every moment spent with Jo since cemented the belief, but he held back because she hadn’t yet reached her majority.

A male’s wolf wouldn’t allow the third and final claiming Mark until both mates were fully mature, even if the secondary bite proved their compatibility as truemates.

Tucker refused to put Jo through the physical and emotional pain resulting from a Mating Dance placed in prolonged stasis if her she-wolf wasn’t ready—no matter how much he wanted her.

But he’d thought the interminable wait was over. He was wrong.

Jo raised her arms, hips swaying to the rhythmic beat. Her hazel eyes closed, oblivious to the heated interest of several unmated Ferwyn males in the club.

Tucker made a conscious effort to unlock his jaw.

“You’re doing it again.” James Reed took a sip from his bottled beer, his free hand dangling over his truemate Sarah’s shoulder.

Grinding his molars, Tucker ignored his friend and focused on the shifter ogling Jo’s ass.

“Quit teasing him.” Sarah pushed aside the half-eaten plate of hot wings and took a sip of ice water.

“Males don’t tease. We bust each other’s balls.”

“James,” she admonished, digging an elbow into the stomach of her Ca’anam. “Tucker, why don’t you—”

He didn’t hear the rest of Sarah’s sentence as the fair-haired shifter moved in behind Jo, matching the rhythm of her hips.

Ross Hubbard transferred to Mud Island to attend graduate school at the Fae Touched branch of the local university six weeks ago, and Jo would have helped him with the temporary move.

The dim lighting and smoky atmosphere didn’t mask the desire on the young male’s face, and if Chess wasn’t filled with competing scents, Tucker swore he’d be able to smell his lust from across the club.

He almost overturned his wooden chair surging to his feet when Ross’ hand landed on Jo’s slender waist, her eyes flying open as if startled. A Ferwyn male would never force himself on a female, but when it came to Jo, all rational thought seemed to vanish.

He barreled underneath the wooden dancers’ cages that hung from nightclub’s lofted ceiling; the chess piece-shaped enclosures left empty for the night’s special event.

Sensing a dangerous predator with its prey in sight, human and Fae Touched alike scattered, and he made it to the dance floor in seconds.

“Jacob?” Jo brushed the damp auburn strands from her flushed cheeks and took a step in his direction, breaking the shifter’s loose hold.

Ross was tall and muscular, his dominance level high—he would be a pack Alpha one day if he wanted the role—but the intrinsic knowing every Ferwyn male possessed revealed his wolf’s strength was far below Tucker’s.

Every Fae Touched region contained a single Ferwyn Clan composed of numerous wolf shifter packs. Each pack was named after its Alpha and collectively ruled by the Clan príoh—the most dominant Ferwyn in an individual territory. Only Samuel sat above Tucker in the ESC’s hierarchy.

“Jacob?” Jo tilted her head, her gaze flitting between his glower and Ross’s clenched jaw. Her eyes widened, and her hand went to her mouth, covering what looked like a smile.

“What the hell is going on?” Penny rushed in, her fists planted on her narrow hips. Hop was behind her, the hungry vamp nowhere in sight.

“She doesn’t bear any Marks, Beta Tucker.” Ross kept his chin lowered, but his nostrils flared.

But she should. She will. Mine.

“That doesn’t give you permission to put your grubby paws on her, motherfu—” Penny’s invective was snipped mid-curse.

Hop clasped Penny’s wrist and twirled her around, then hoisted her over his shoulder.

The stocky shifter trapped her thighs against his torso and plowed through the gawking onlookers, removing the vulnerable human from the brewing conflict.

Penny rained a string of death threats and obscenities on him, pulling on his waist-length braid as though trying to steer a runaway horse.

He carted her upended through the club, her feet kicking.

Although Hop’s countenance was as stormy as his unusual gray eyes, the sole thing bruised at the end of the night would be Penny’s pride.

Jo’s hand dropped, and her mouth fell open.

“Jo…” Tucker yanked her attention from the ongoing spectacle and offered his hand.

“Hmmm?” Her gaze was on Penny’s dramatic exit, but she laid her palm in his, trusting him without a second thought.

Every. Damn. Time.

His she-wolf was beautiful inside and out, her enthusiasm for life infectious. He couldn’t blame Ross for his blatant interest. What unmated shifter male wouldn’t want fate to choose Jo as his Ca’anam?

Tucker’s hold on his human form slipped another notch at the intolerable thought of losing her to someone who wasn’t burdened by the past. His vision altered to the dulled spectrum of his wolf, and his would-be rival responded in kind, claws springing from his fingertips in anticipation of a challenge.

“Is there a problem here, lieutenant?” James interrupted the escalating confrontation.

“No, there’s not.” Jo released his hand and crossed her arms, no longer amused. She stared at the upper canines indenting his lip. “Right, Jacob?”

He remained silent as the live band hired for the party by the queen began to play in the background. Their audience stood unmoving around them; the guests glued to the drama unfolding on the dance floor.

Ross broke the stalemate, conceding Tucker’s superior status by exposing his throat. His feet dragged as he crossed the checkerboard floor to the group of transient clanmates waiting to ambush him at the bar for the public set-down.

Ross is lucky only his ego would take a beating—and that it was mandatory to check external weaponry at Chess’s door.

“Thanks for the dance,” Jo called after him, expression soft with sympathy.

The band switched to a sultry ballad, the lead singer’s voice grit and gravel, the vocals steeped in Anwyll magic.

The tattooed symbol on the witch’s throat glowed a soft white as he crooned into the microphone, the country song infused with a calming spell to soothe the crowd.

Couples began to dance while others left the floor to get a cocktail and wait for a faster tune. Conversations resumed.

“You good?” James asked with an irritating smirk.

Tucker nodded, grabbed Jo’s hand again, and trailed James to their table.

“Hey, I wasn’t finished dancing yet.” Jo dug in her heels but stopped struggling once they got close enough to see an anxious Sarah waiting for them.

“Is every okay, Johnnie?” she asked. “Tucker took off like a bat out of hell with James right behind him. Where’s Penny and Hop?”

“Oh. My. Lanta.” Jo gestured wildly with her hands. “Didn’t you see?”

“I couldn’t see a damn thing from here. I promised someone I’d stay put in case things got…um…dicey.” Sarah glared at her Ca’anam, though her tone sounded more frustrated that she’d missed all the action than angry.

Tucker wasn’t surprised when James didn’t flinch at the accusation; Sarah’s safety would always be his friend’s priority.

“Hop threw her over his shoulder in front of everyone and left the club.” Jo’s fingers went to her full lips, stifling either a laugh or a horrified groan. “What if she’d been in a short skirt?”

“He did not…”

“He did. And you wouldn’t believe Penny’s language. Or maybe you would.” A giggle escaped. “I’d be surprised if his ears aren’t singed.”

“Lieutenant Tucker—”

“Shit.” Jo whirled, hand on her heart. She hadn’t sensed Samuel behind her.

“I’m sorry, Johnnie. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The Alpha’s lips were stretched thin, the fine lines around his eyes creased.

“Why did you come back? Is Abby okay?” Sarah stood, fist pressed to her flat stomach, her pregnancy in its early stage.

“She’s fine.” His expression relaxed a fraction as he addressed his sister. “I left her asleep in our apartment.”

With at least two members of the Guard stationed outside his door if Tucker were to guess.

Sarah sagged against James’ chest, and Jo frowned. Unlike those at the table, his she-wolf had no idea Abby was more than the human she pretended to be and the unwilling foundation of a Sídhe Lord’s plan to change Earth’s realm as they knew it.

“Something’s come up, and I need to speak with Tucker and James privately.” Samuel managed a smile for his confused clanmate, but it never reached his eyes. “I promise not to keep them away from the festivities for long.”

“Of course, Alpha.” Jo turned to Tucker and raised her auburn brows high.

He almost groaned. As much as he hated withholding the truth from Jo, Abby’s story wasn’t Tucker’s to tell.

And it would be breaking his oath to disclose the emergence of Lord Daimhín to anyone outside the inner circle.

He would have to invent a plausible explanation for Sarah’s strange behavior for his curious she-wolf.

Sarah patted James’ tuxedoed chest, then moved to stand beside Jo. “Let’s go check on Penny while they talk business.”

“You mean check on Hop ,” she replied, grin returning. “He’s the one who probably needs saving.”

“You’re right, we should definitely hurry before things get violent.” Sarah laughed, grabbed Jo’s hand, and led them through the packed tables toward the lobby.

Samuel watched them go before striding to the double doors at the rear of the club.

Tucker and James followed behind him, ignoring the stares of the shifters they passed.

The commander’s smell was masked by the sheer number of people inside Chess, but the force with which he entered the back hallway and the anger vibrating through the pack bond told them all they needed to know. Their Alpha was furious.

“I received a call from Kincaid,” Samuel said after Tucker shut the soundproof door to the Guard’s designated office. The last thump of muted bass vibrating through the thick cement walls in the corridor vanished with its closing.

“Another shifter is missing?” James removed his black jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “Where?”

“Northern Michigan.”

“That would be the third Glaofin male who’s disappeared from that area in as many years.” Tucker knew the human-run facility that held Abby prisoner was located somewhere in the Upper Peninsula.

“The fourth.” Samuel’s voice a raw growl. “It was a set of retired twins this time.”

Ferwyn males who chose to end their lives as wolves because of the loss of a truemate or advanced age were ironically solitary creatures, the pack mentality left behind for a myriad of practical reasons.

But under unique conditions, such as a sibling answering the call of the Glaofin during the same span as their brother, it wasn’t unusual for them to share a territory.

“Is Kincaid sure they’re missing?” Tucker asked. All Clans tried to monitor shifters retreating to the forests in their region, but a Ferwyn wolf was difficult to track despite its massive size. Spotting one was often a matter of luck and the converted Glaofin male choosing to be seen.

“No, he’s not sure. But he hasn’t come across either of the wolves in over a week.” As a wildlife guide and state park consultant, he knew Kincaid routinely crossed paths with at least one of the siblings.

“And his sire?”

Sherman Kincaid was reported missing eighteen months ago. He was one among a dozen Glaofin wolves across the country who had disappeared over the past five years—too high a statistic to be explained by a natural death occurring from injury or old age in the wilds.

“He’s still looking, but there’s been no sign of him.” The burned charcoal smell of anger flooded the room. “There can be no question what’s happened to our missing people.”

Tucker’s skin went cold. “Someone is hunting them.”