“What are you, some sort of one-man army?” Tessa asked, leaning in the doorway of the main bedroom and watching Feral pull a multitude of weapons from a case. Ten minutes had seen a rapid exit from her sister’s now trashed apartment, Feral only allowing enough of a delay for her to grab her weekend bag and one for the baby. She knew her sister was going to kill her for the state of the place, but right now, Tessa couldn’t bring herself to worry. Not when there were far more important things to think about.

Like how damn hot the guy in front of her was. Sure, she knew she should be freaking out about pixies busting in and trying to kill them, but she ignored the part of her brain that was almost in hysterics over it for the moment. She hadn’t recognized the clan tattoos on their assailants, which could indicate a new clan was trying to move into the area. She didn’t know. She and Lisa weren’t full-blooded pixies—their grandmother leaving her clan years before their mother had been born—so she wasn’t up to date with local politics for her species. Since most pixie men were misogynistic assholes, it was a situation that suited Tessa down to the ground.

To maintain her sanity, she focused on what was right in front of her. Feral was the hottest guy she’d ever seen, with a tall, heavily muscled build that was currently on display as he armed himself. The kind of hot she lusted after on the silver screen. But no matter what fantasies rolled through her mind, she knew he wouldn’t look at her that way. She’d seen kyn women. They were all tall, slender and hauntingly beautiful. There was no way on earth he’d look at her—short, curvy and odd-looking thanks to her pixie blood. At least he hadn’t winced when she’d dropped her glamour earlier in the evening, too tired to maintain it when she knew he could probably see through most of it anyway. She only maintained it when in public and, being honest, it wasn’t the strongest glamour ever. Just something to make her appear a little more human so she didn’t get stared at on the subway.

She watched him with interest from the doorway of his bedroom. She’d known he was dangerous from the moment she’d seen him on her doorstep. She knew enough about the kyn to know the heavy tattoo-like marks across the side of his body and down his arm marked him as a kyn warrior. They were the baddest of the bad, vampires who were born to hunt and kill rogue vampires, those of his kind who had succumbed to blood-rage and considered that anything with a pulse was on the menu. It was one thing to know that intellectually though, and quite another to see him kitting up.

Gone were the well-washed jeans hanging low on his hips, the slight “V” of hair on his washboard stomach that disappeared into his waistband teasing her beyond belief. They were replaced by a near identical pair in black denim over heavy black boots, teamed with a t-shirt that clung lovingly to the heavy muscles of his chest and shoulders. The clothing, combined with the “badass” attitude that surrounded him, was undoubtedly enough to make old ladies crossing the street move to avoid him. And that was before the weaponry was considered. Her eyes had widened when she’d seen the blades in the bag he’d opened on the bed.

His lips quirked as he continued arming up.

“Yup, pretty much so. Got to be when fighting the rogues. We patrol in pairs but there’s always the chance your partner could fall. Then you’re on your own,” he said shortly, his face tight.

A brief flash of anger, a rage so complete, crossed his face and it took Tessa’s breath away. She didn’t need him to spell it out to tell her that something bad had happened in the past, that a partner had gone down. Curiosity filled her, but the forbidding look on his face warned her off.

His movements were deft, appearing to have the ease of long experience as he strapped knives and blades over what seemed like every available body surface. There were sheaths on the insides of his wrists, his thighs, more in the heavy boots, even one that went down his spine.

“You need all that for what you do?” she asked, her curiosity about him increasing. He moved with a grace she found fascinating, retrieving a heavy belt from across the back of a chair in the corner and buckling it around his lean hips. This was a different man from the one she’d been laughing and joking with back in her sister’s apartment.

“Not really, no. They’re mostly backup,” he replied and then shrugged. “These are my main weapons.”

He shifted the heavy belt on his hips and reached to the small of his back. The next second, there were small blades on the backs of his hands. Her eyes widened.

The blades weren’t knives, daggers, or anything that resembled a human weapon. More like heavy knuckle dusters, they fit across his hands, the razor-sharp blades across his knuckles glinting in the overhead light.

“Hmm, those little things?” She frowned. As nasty as they looked, she couldn’t see them doing any sort of serious damage.

“Diss the blades. Typical woman,” he grunted, pretending to be insulted as he slid the weapons away with an ease that spoke of long practice, but she saw the smile curve the corner of his lips.

“Oh no, after earlier, believe me, I’m more than happy with whatever you’re packing, sweetheart,” she said with a wink, desperately clinging to humor to get her through the nightmare tonight was turning out to be.

His grin was swift, and dirty. “Whatever I’m packing huh? You sure you can handle it, honey?”

“Oh, you’d better believe it...and if we didn’t need to get out of here, like pronto, Boss Man, I’d be proving it to you.” She reminded him they needed to move.

“Yeah, yeah… is that a threat or a promise?”

His chest expanded in a sigh, a look of frustration written on his handsome face. Reaching down, he zipped the big bag up and slung it over his shoulder.

“Okay, I’m done. Grab the kid and let’s get gone.”

* * *

“Mikal, it’s Feral. Oh, fuck it! I hate these damn things,” he muttered as he slid out of the seat of his truck, phone against his ear. He waited impatiently for the beep before speaking again. “Mik, it’s Feral. Got a bit of a situation. Bunch of pixies broke in and trashed my neighbor’s place. I got her out and we’re at the Grey Lady. Give me a call when you’re free, would you, bro? Catch you later.”

He slid the cell into his pocket and reached for the bags Tessa held. “You sure we’re going to be able to get a room?” He eyed the front of the building dubiously. As far as he was aware, most hotels needed advanced bookings, especially places that looked this upmarket.

She looked up at him as she slid from the passenger seat, the baby in her arms. She hadn’t been too happy about traveling without a proper baby seat, arguing with him halfway to the hotel and then resorting to glares. Feral hid his smile, she was even prettier mad. He’d have to wind her up more often.

“We’re lucky to be here at all! What would have happened if the cops had stopped us?” She gritted her teeth. “You’d have gotten a ticket or something and they’d have taken him from us...we’re not his parents. They’d find that out straight away and then where would we be?”

Feral shrugged, the handles of both bags caught easily in one large hand, the other free just in case they got jumped again. “I’m kyn remember? I’d just have pulled a mind trick on them...” He grinned as he waved his hand in what he hoped was a mystical gesture.

Her lips quirked a little, despite the glare she treated him to.

“I see my subtle charm is working as planned. So, what about it? You reckon we’ll get a room here? There aren’t that many paranormal places...” And there weren’t. Feral could count the number of paranormal-friendly hotels in the city on one hand.

Tessa shrugged, setting off toward the door and winking at him over her shoulder. “Bet you dinner I can get us a room.”

He walked with her to the door, his stride shortened to match hers. Reaching out, he opened the door, holding it wide so she could step through ahead of him, and followed her. As he stepped over the threshold, he felt a distinctive shiver down his back, like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over him. He grunted to himself. He’d know that feeling anywhere. The place was warded.

“Wards, protection spells, daylight shutters. You name it, we got it,” a voice at his side announced, almost as though someone had read his thoughts. He turned swiftly, his hand already halfway to the small of his back, to find a woman watching him with a smile on her lips.

She looked so much like Tessa, he had to check she was still on the other side of him and then looked back at the other woman. Short and slender, she was nearly identical; the same height, build, and similar facial features. She only differed in her fashion sense. Whereas Tessa was casually dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, this woman could have stepped right out of an old film.

He shot Tessa a look. “No bet, missy. You get to buy dinner,” he muttered in a low voice before turning to the other woman. She held out her hand.

“Jane Grey, owner of the Grey Lady and Tessa’s aunt,” she said with a bright smile.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he rumbled, taking her smaller hand in his to shake. A tingle washed over his palm and he looked at her a little closer. She looked back at him, her gaze level. Like Tessa, she was a pixie, but wore no glamour so he could see her real, delicately beautiful features. He took a breath, rolling the air over his tongue to pick up if there was anything… other about her. Tessa was half human, that much he could tell, but he couldn’t get a read on her aunt.

“Nice place you got here. I didn’t realize it was paranormal friendly,” he commented, looking around. If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn he’d stepped right into an old English hotel. He even looked back over his shoulder, checking that yes, that was the same car lot he’d parked his truck in.

Jane smiled slightly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Minor aversion ward. Those with a more… warlike disposition, shall we say… rarely consider stepping through our doors. But, those who truly need us will always find their way here.”

He nodded, impressed despite himself. If it was true, it was a clever bit of ward-work, complex and delicately worked. Whichever warden Jane had hired was obviously worth the pretty penny it must have cost.

“Which would be us.” Tessa stepped forward, the baby in her arms. Pulling the knit hat off his head, she revealed the pink hair to her aunt. “He was left on Feral’s doorstep with a note.” She looked directly at Jane, her expression serious. “Apparently, he’s a Morrigan.”

* * *

Feral nudged open the door to their room with his shoulder once Tessa had opened it for him. For some reason, it was a complicated procedure that involved both hands—twisting the key one way and the doorknob the other.

“Should have had these fitted at your sister’s place. Pixies would have been there for months working it out.” He winked at her over his shoulder.

“Oi, watch it you! Pixie in the room, remember?” She threw him a look as she followed him. It was a decent sized room—a family suite—with a double bed in the middle and two singles set to the side. Not luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but it was nevertheless clean and functional.

“Yeah, but you’re not just a pixie are you?” he said quickly, digging himself out of the hole he could see looming over him with the ease of long practice. Such skills were necessary when his patrol partner was the psychotic vamp bitch from hell at certain times of the month.

He automatically did a sweep of the room. As promised, the curtains concealed full daylight shutters, a necessity for a vampire traveler, and a quick swipe of his hand over the windowsill had the wards there flaring to life for a second. His eyebrow flitted up. Daylight shutters and heavy duty wards? His estimation of how much money Jane had sunk into the place went up. Way up.

“What do you mean, not just a pixie?” Tessa settled the baby in the middle of the double bed, her voice light. Too light, the slight hesitation before she answered flashing like a neon sign. Feral opened the door to the bathroom, pausing to look inside before he answered. Like the bedroom, it was plain and simple. A fresh lemon scent assaulted his sensitive nostrils… and so clean he could’ve probably eaten a meal off the floor.

“Well, your aunt there... Jane,” satisfied the shutter was the same high quality as the one in the bedroom, he shut the door and turned to her, continuing, “if she’s a day under a hundred, I’ll eat little man’s hat.” He flicked a finger toward the blue fleecy cap covering the baby’s day-glow locks.

Leaning a shoulder against the wall, he folded his arms as he considered her.

She didn’t look at him, tickling the baby and making him giggle. A delaying tactic if ever he saw one. Finally, she looked his way, not directly at him, but toward him. “Don’t be silly. Pixies don’t live that long.”

“I’m kyn, Tessa, not an idiot. I can sense an expanded lifespan when it’s looking me in the face,” he told her firmly. What was it with women and not giving straight answers? Vixen was just like this when she didn’t want to talk. It was like getting blood out of a damn stone.

She chucked the baby under the chin and sat back on the bed, appearing deep in thought. The tension stretched between them, an air of expectancy as Feral waited for her to say something. That was the trick. Not filling the silence with something and giving them an out. That way, they had to say something, and often, the pressure of silence prompted them into revealing things they might not otherwise share.

She sighed. “Okay, Jane’s a little... special,” she admitted, bowing her head for a moment. After swiveling on the bed, she looked at him, her dark eyes earnest. “You have to keep this to yourself, okay? My family has been keeping this secret for generations.” Her focus remained intense.

Slowly, Feral nodded, intrigued. What secret were they keeping? What secret could be so important that a family of pixies, not the most reliable beings in the world, would keep it for generations? “Okay, I promise...cross my heart and hope to die,” he offered, drawing his forefinger across his chest.

Tessa frowned, a little line forming between her brows that he thought was cute, and shook her head. “But you’re a vampire anyway...”

“And?”

“Well, aren’t you like, the living dead and all that?”

Feral laughed. Again, she’d caught him off-guard. “Now, now. You’re a pixie, you know better than that!”

Kyn were demonic, not cursed. Well, not exactly. Some would say their demonic blood cursed them, but Feral, and most other kyn, begged to differ. They were just different, that was all.

She wrinkled her nose, a teasing light in her eyes that heated his blood. A bolt of desire hit him broadside, bringing a low rumble to his throat.

“And don’t try and change the subject, missy!” he warned her with a rumble. “You were telling me about Jane.”

“Oh buggar it...well a gal’s gotta give these things a try! Okay...we’re not just pixies. There’s something odd mixed into the bloodline. You know much about English royalty?”

Feral laughed. “What, you mean as in human English royalty? Hell, I have enough trouble remembering who’s the president at the moment. You can’t expect me to know history as well, not when these humans die off every eighty years or so...um, no offense,” he said in haste, as two pairs of eyes swiveled to look at him accusingly, the baby adding the weight of his stare.

She wrinkled her nose, the glare fading. “Nah, you’re okay. I’m not that easily offended. Okay, long story short. Jane was once the Queen of England. Until they chopped her head off.”

Feral nodded slowly. “I wondered what the scarf was for.”

“Yeah…” She shrugged. “She doesn’t like to talk about it and I can’t blame her. I know she still has nightmares. We don’t know how she survived,” Tessa admitted, lifting a hand to rake her hair back from her face. “I think she does, but she’s not letting on.”

“Some things are best left unsaid,” he agreed, pushing off from the wall to approach her. Sliding a strong finger under her chin, he made her look up. “Just as long as it’s nothing that’s going to get you killed…”

She shook her head quickly, her eyes wide and dark. “No. Of course not. Jane would never hurt me. Hurt anyone.”

He grumbled and let her go. That hadn’t been exactly what he’d meant but instinct warned him that pushing Tessa further would just get her to clam up on him. He didn’t want that.

She slid off the bed and away from him to the tea and coffee making facilities on the dresser. Unlike many hotels he’d stayed in, there was an actual kettle. “I’m parched. Um, do vampires drink coffee?” she queried, looking over her shoulder.

They locked eyes for a moment before she blushed and looked away, leaving a little smile on Feral’s face. He read her interest there, the awareness of him as a man, and it pleased him on levels he hadn’t realized existed.

“Yeah, we drink coffee,” he said, his voice low in the sudden silence. “Actually, most of us can eat and drink...we just don’t most of the time. Some prefer not to at all. Myself, I’m partial to a beer and a pizza,” he offered with a smile, as he realized having a man in the room with her had to be a little worrying. After all, he wasn’t the smallest of kyn, and compared to the average pixie or human, he was huge.

She flashed him a grin. “Sounds like the perfect date,” her voice was light as she arranged two mugs on the dresser, “pepperoni pizza with all the trimmings?”

Feral grinned. “Why? You angling for a date, Tessa?”

She arched an eyebrow as she emptied the small packets of instant coffee into the mugs and started to pour the now boiled water.

“Hmm, depends... pixies are better kissers than vamps,” she replied, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

This time, it was Feral’s eyebrow winging its way up to his shaved hairline. “Is that so, little pixie?” he asked, a dangerous edge in his voice as he worked to keep a straight face.

“Yup.” She pushed a mug toward him, leaning her hips back against the side as she lifted her own to her lips, blowing the steam on top.

Her wide, dark eyes glanced at him over the rim, laughter dancing in them. Pixies liked to live dangerously…seemed it was true of the women as well as the men. But where the men liked to get into fights, Tessa was playing a whole different sort of game. One he was more than happy to play with her.

“Well, I can’t let this slur to the kyn go unpunished.” He stalked toward her, step by slow step. He could move faster than the eye could see, mortal or pixie, but this wasn’t about speed. It was about the awareness tingling between them, about feeding the attraction to see where it would lead. And about getting a taste of those full, pouting lips. Ones that held a soft smile of invitation.

He reached out and took the mug from her unresisting hands. “I figure I’m going to have to do something about it.”

Putting the mug on the dresser behind her, he boxed her in with a hand on each side of her hips and lowered his head.

The softness of her lips took him by surprise, warm and pliant. There was no coyness in her response, her lips yielding under his gentle coaxing as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He groaned as she stroked her tongue along his playfully, shifting to enfold her in his arms as he deepened the kiss.

By the time he lifted his head a while later, their breathing was ragged, and high bands of color highlighted her cheeks. Feral rested his forehead against hers and smiled. “I agree,” he breathed. “Pixies are great kissers.”