Arlen

What the hell had he gotten himself into? He wanted to let her in, though a man in his position couldn’t afford it. Not when there was so much upheaval across the factions. When things went to shit in one of the paranormal sects, it sent ripples through them all. The fucker who kidnapped Angela had made waves. Arlen had heard there was already reports of shifter maulings in the north. There were fewer people on the streets each day. However, despite everything, he couldn’t regret his involvement with the downfall of the dark magic invader, Drake.

Getting involved in the craziness of the voodoo gods hadn’t been something he’d do if it hadn’t been for the respect he had for Rhys Devereaux. They’d worked together more than a few times; it wasn’t uncommon in their line of work. Eventually, you crossed paths with just about everyone in the business.

He peeked at her small frame before stepping out of her room when all he wanted was to reach out and comfort her, but he’d seen her symptoms before. She’d been through something horrific and needed time to heal. He knew how long that could take from personal experience. Who was he kidding? With all of his problems, there would never be an us for him and Angela. No man like him could hope for his own slice of normal.

The door clicked shut quietly at his back and he scanned over the rest of his apartment. Sparse and industrial, much like the building itself. It had been a factory warehouse before being converted into apartments. For the last eight years, it had suited him just fine. Why did it feel so foreign to him now?

Angela.

She was human and fragile. Mortal. He was Fae and would outlive her by hundreds of years… if he didn’t get her killed long before that. Even without his extra baggage, they’d be doomed to failure. If only someone could tell his stupid soul that.

The Fae were different from humans. They lived in another realm much like the one Maya now resided in, however, his lands had been lush and green with thick forests covering it. Rolling plains and swift, clear streams had been his playgrounds as a child. The Fae were blessed with the gift of having a mate. That person would be another soul, perfectly chosen to suit them in every way. Some never found their other half, and Arlen was one of them. At least, he had been. The creator had a sick sense of humor.

He was going to help Angela fight off her demons. His regal matte black Harley Davidson sportster sat next to his building’s front door. God help anyone who was brave enough to try and lift it. He’d quickly become their worst nightmare for messing with his baby.

“Angela? I’m going out for a few minutes. My number is on the counter in the kitchen if you need me, okay?” He listened closely at the door for a response, yet heard only the soft sniffles of her sobs.

His fists tightened at his sides. He’d never had the urge to comfort a woman before, but she made him wish she would let him in. The foreign sensation threw him off kilter. If she were Fae like him, she’d recognize him and accept him as her partner. Shit. There he went again, hoping for more than he should.

He turned away from the woman and marched through the room. He grabbed his worn leather jacket off the back of the chair as he passed. He shrugged into it and dug his keys from the pocket as he slipped out the door.

The air was mild and damp. A sure sign it would rain soon. He could smell the coming storm in the air and he knew he’d make sure he was home before it struck. The thunder could set off Angela’s weakened grip on reality and there was no telling what might happen. He still didn’t know the full extent of what had been done to her beyond the physical. Those were the marks that he could still see.

She needed someone to shoulder the weight of her torment with her. Arlen’s broad shoulders were more than capable, he just needed to show her that she wasn’t alone in it all. His mind was running in circles, trying to figure her out and getting nowhere.

Angrily, he started the bike which roared just as loudly as he wanted to himself and tore off down the street. The entrance ramp was only a couple blocks down and soon he was flying down the highway and relishing the feel of the wind whipping over his skin.

He let the breeze wash away the worries and stresses of the day and inhaled the earthy scent of the muddy Mississippi River as he traversed the bridge above it. Being Fae, he was always more in tune with nature than humans. It was refreshing to him. His people didn’t typically live in large cities like New Orleans because it stifled their senses, which was exactly why he had chosen it. It was the last place they’d come looking for him.

His half brother, Lorik, had been hunting him for damn near a century. He’d walked away from the Fae and never looked back. It was only by sheer luck that he hadn’t been found yet. The two men had a score to settle, which was another reason why he couldn’t become attached to Angela. She was his vulnerability, his weakness, and his strength. If they knew, they’d come for her to get back at him. Now, he had every reason to keep one eye trained over his shoulder.