Hook: Exiles of the Realm Read online

  He tilted his head to the side, desire plainly written on his face. “Is it working?”

  Damn, it was.

  Mercy hadn’t felt a flutter this low in her belly for a long time. Longer still since a man had made her feel desirable. And hell, she couldn’t remember the last time that she’d acted on these kinds of feelings.

  She took another sip of champagne and relished the gentle burn all the way down. She took in the sight of him. All of him—from his thick, perfectly tossed hair to the sharp line of his jaw.

  Damn, she wanted him.

  She wanted him bad.

  And it had been so long since Mercy had taken something she’d wanted.

  She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and met his bold blue gaze. She had no idea if this was part of his bet with his friends back at the restaurant, and, honestly, she didn’t care. She wasn’t kidding herself about the kind of man James was. Sure, he was a sweet talker, a charmer, but a borderline honest one. He’d honored his side of their agreement. He’d never made any promises he had no intentions of keeping…like sticking around to see tomorrow.

  Hell, after this party, their deal was done. They’d go their separate ways. She’d probably never see him again.

  Which meant this was her only chance to do something for herself and act on the electric attraction that crackled between them.

  Was it working?

  Mercy bit into her lip as she summoned the courage to answer honestly.

  Chapter Seven

  “Yes.”

  The word had first rushed out of Mercy’s mouth back at the Keswick party. And then again on the car ride over to James’ apartment…and now once more as the doors of his building’s slick, modern elevator slid closed.

  She barely recognized the breathy sound of her own voice as she raked her fingers through his thick blond hair and pulled his head down for another kiss.

  And, oh God, his kisses.

  The man was every bit as talented as he looked in that department. She’d been near drunk on them the moment his lips first brushed against hers. James’ kisses were addictive. There was no other explanation. Each one made her crave the next even more.

  James wasn’t helping. He cornered her, pressing her back until her spine was flush against the cold steel wall. He propped one hand above her head and slid the other up from the dip of her waist to the curve of her breast. A small sound of surrender escaped Mercy’s lips.

  Damn, the amount of skill in his fingers should’ve been illegal. All it took was a couple of well-placed caresses and her body was practically singing. Not bad, given that she still had her clothes on…for now. A rush of heat infused Mercy’s blood.

  Couldn’t this elevator move any faster? A few more seconds and she was going to end up with a police record for indecent exposure.

  Thankfully, the doors slid open a moment later. James didn’t waste any time wrapping his arm around her middle and guiding her down the hall. It only took him a heartbeat to unlock his door and usher her inside.

  Just like that, they were alone.

  Really alone.

  Mercy’s tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. Her gaze swept over his place. The floor plan was large and open, but the space didn’t feel overly modern or cold, probably because James had filled his apartment with lush and exotic objects. Countless unusual treasures lined the shelves of several cases. The last of the evening light shone through full panels of uncovered windows, falling on walls draped in foreign art and textiles. An over-stuffed couch in the center of the living room practically begged to be lounged on. James’ apartment screamed comfort and luxury.

  She only had a few seconds to take it all in before James returned to her side, surrounding her with his arms and restarting his barrage of magical kisses. Just like that, all thoughts were pushed out of her head.

  She started to melt in his arms as he moved her backwards across the floor. She somehow kept herself upright until her knees hit the cushions of the couch, and James guided her gently downward. He shifted her legs apart with his knees and settled between them.

  Oh, hell yes. This was what she’d been waiting for.

  A second later, his shoes landed on the floor with a soft clack. Mercy followed suit. A hard flick of her ankles sent her sandals flying.

  James trailed his kisses down the column of her neck, his tongue flicking at the sensitive spot just below her ear. Her head fell back at the pure pleasure. She lifted her hips, pressing into him even more urgently, and James growled his approval.

  The sound was more than she could take.

  Mercy curled her fingers around the front of his coat and tugged the material down his arms. She’d never felt this way before, almost dizzy with passion. Bordering on out of control. Right now, she wanted to tear his shirt open and send the buttons flying across the floorboards. Then she’d be able to touch him.

  All of him.

  She gripped his coat tight, ready to toss it in the direction of their shoes, when a sharp prick dug deep into the meat of her palm.

  Mercy hissed in pain as she recoiled. She dropped his coat and grabbed her hand. In the center, a bright green dragonfly rested in a growing pool of blood.

  Mercy shook her head. That couldn’t be right. It wasn’t a real dragonfly. It was a pin.

  A familiar one.

  She pushed at James’ shoulders as she struggled to sit up.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, looking at her palm. His whole expression changed. His jaw tightened. His gaze grew guarded. “Let me remove that so we can stop the bleeding.”

  Mercy shook her head.

  “I know this pin,” she said, taking a closer look. “I’ve seen it before.”

  “It’s not important.” James’ tone was strong and steady. Hell, she almost believed him. Except…

  Except it was important. She had seen the broach before, and, a second later, the memory of where came rushing back to her.

  “Mrs. Keswick was wearing this pin at the party,” she said, closing her fingers protectively around the delicate piece of jewelry. “Why was it in your coat?”

  James cursed under his breath as he lifted to his knees. The last lingering haze of desire cleared from her mind.

  “Why was it in your coat, James?” Hope made her voice shake a little—hope that she was wrong. But wanting something didn’t make it true. She knew that better than anyone. “Did you steal it?”

  He cocked his chin to the side as he looked her straight in the eye. “You’re too smart not to know the answer to that.”

  “God damn it.” Mercy kicked her feet, thrusting her body up. She scrambled off the couch, desperate to put some distance between herself and James. “I knew something was wrong. I could just feel it.”

  “I can promise you, that wasn’t what you were feeling.”

  Mercy shot him her best withering glare as a storm of anger began to gather inside her chest. “You’re nothing but a damned thief.”

  James let out a little laugh as he slid down to sit on the couch. “You have no idea just how accurate that description is.” He spread his arms out lazily on the top of the cushions.

  “So, you admit it,” she said, moving back another step. “You stole Mrs. Keswick’s broach.”

  “Of course, I did.” His words came out easy, but his gaze was as sharp as ever. “Just not for the reasons you think.”

  “I don’t give a damn about your reasons,” she spat at him. “What do you think your friends would say if they knew what you’d done?”

  James shrugged. Apparently, shame slid right off his shoulders. “They wouldn’t be surprised, if that’s what you’re hinting at. They know exactly what I am.” He cocked his head to the side, his gaze sliding up to the ceiling. “Well, the thief part, anyway.”

  Mercy shook her head. She didn’t know what kind of spell he was trying to weave over her, but she wasn’t about to let his words confuse her.

  “You’re telling me Charlie was in on this?”
>
  He laughed. “Not hardly.”

  His lighthearted tone only increased Mercy’s fury. He didn’t care that he’d committed a crime. He didn’t take anything seriously, not even the basic line between right and wrong.

  Anger overrode pain as she tightened her grip on the broach. The move pushed the sharp point of the pin even deeper into her palm, sending a surge of warm, thick blood through the gaps in her fingers. She pivoted on her heel and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” James asked.

  “Where do you think?” she said. “I’m going to return the pin that you’ve stolen to the Keswick’s.”

  She hadn’t even made it two steps when James’ hand clasped onto her shoulder. She started hard, her eyes going wide as she craned her head around to stare at him.

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” he said.

  It only took a heartbeat for simple anger to morph into pure rage. The searing emotion exploded in Mercy’s chest, spilling molten fire out through every vein. Fury that he was restraining her. Dictating what she could and could not do.

  Suddenly, all that mattered was knowing she was on the side of right. The power of that certainty vibrated through her body, imbuing her with a strength she’d never felt.

  James must have sensed it too, because the smug look in his eyes began to change. Wariness crept in around the corners. Wariness and concern. He glanced at her clenched palm, and the stream of blood coursing out of her hand, drop by drop.

  “Mercy,” he said, his voice suddenly cautious. “You need to give me the pin.”

  She pulled her shoulders back as a strange ball of energy swelled in her chest.

  “Get your hands off me.” The words came from deep inside her as if torn by an outside force.

  That wasn’t the only thing that rushed out. The bubble of righteous anger burst, sending a shockwave of power from the center of her chest and into the room. The force was staggering. The whole room pulsed. Trinkets toppled over on shelves. Artwork fell to the floor. Even James was knocked off his feet. Mercy watched with an overblown sense of satisfaction as he landed hard on his ass and was swept back past the edge of the couch.

  The feeling didn’t last long though. The moment her rage was spent a new sensation took over—a white-hot pain that lanced straight through her skull. The sudden agony was unbearable. Mercy opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Not even breath.

  In that instant, her head filled up with voices. So many of them. One on top of the other. Hundreds. Thousands. Millions. There was no way of counting. They tumbled and pushed at the confines of her brain, threatening to burst out of her temples. Mercy wrapped her fingers around the side of her skull, desperate to hold herself together as she crumpled to her knees.

  Her vision started to fade. Black fog pushed in on every side. She fought against the darkness, but it was too strong.

  “Mercy,” she heard one of the multitude cry out. A voice louder than the rest.

  Mercy lifted her chin, and caught a glimpse of James scrambling toward her just before the last remaining pinprick of light blinked out completely.

  No.

  No. No. No.

  The word rang out over and over in James’ head as he rushed over to Mercy’s limp body.

  Dammit. He should have seen this coming. He should have snatched the wyvern scales from her hand the moment the piece had fallen into her palm. But he’d been so certain that he could convince her to simply give him the pin.

  No. That wasn’t completely true. He’d hoped that’s what she’d do. Hoped that he could charm her so he wouldn’t have to use force. It was a mistake. A foolish one. One he wouldn’t have made if he’d kept his focus on the relic instead of the woman.

  He knelt by Mercy’s side and slid his hands under her neck. He used extra care as he settled her head in his lap. He brushed back her hair and grimaced as he looked at her face. Her color was ashen, but a steady stream of breath still passed between her lips.

  Thank the Heavens. The shock of magic hadn’t killed her, just knocked her out cold. He let out an audible sigh as his most immediate fear fell away.

  Keeping one arm wrapped protectively around her, James slid his hand down her arm to her bunched fist. Even unconscious, her fingers were curled together tight. So tight James had to pry them open one by one. Inside, the pin pressed deep into her palm, covered in her slick, red blood.

  What fool thought attaching wyvern scales to a sharp object was a good idea? It was nothing short of a miracle that something like this hadn’t happened before. Of course, a few drops of blood wasn’t enough to wake the magic. The scales needed strong, righteous emotion to bring them fully to life.

  And no one did righteousness better than Mercy Herrera.

  Especially, when he was around.

  Using all his gentle skill, James pinched the top of the dragonfly and carefully slid the long pin out of her hand. Her head tossed in his lap and her eyelids flickered the moment he plucked the broach free.

  “Wha…?” Her voice came out rumbly and disoriented.

  James traced the curve of her cheek with the back of his fingers. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” he assured her. “I’ve got you.”

  For a moment, she gazed at him with wide eyes. He swore he spied flickers of trust and relief in their rich brown depths.

  But then she blinked, and all those soft emotions disappeared.

  “No. Get away.” The words came slow and sluggish out of her mouth as if her tongue wasn’t quite up to the task of talking.

  She tried to sit up, but she only got halfway before clutching the side of her head and falling back into the cradle of his lap. She looked at him, open confusion swirling in her eyes.

  “What did you do to me?” she said, her words still slurring together.

  “You?” James chuckled. “I was the one who was tossed halfway across the room.”

  Mercy’s brows pulled into a V. He could see the gears slowly spinning inside her mind as she searched for the memory. He knew she finally remembered when her jaw dropped.

  “Oh, God.” There was no anger in her voice, only shock…and fear. “What was that?”

  “Shh,” he whispered, and raked his fingers through her hair. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  Apparently, she wasn’t all that interested in comfort. She reached up and grabbed his hand. “What the hell happened?”

  “Soon,” he said. “Right now you need to rest.”

  “Rest? Is that code for lie here quietly while you figure out your next lie?”

  “I’ve never lied to you, Mercy. I’ve just taken pains to avoid certain truths.”

  She didn’t look all that impressed by his creative wordplay. “A couple of hours ago, you said you didn’t believe there was anything I couldn’t handle. If that’s true, then tell me right now what the hell is going on.”

  He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Out of all the women in this massive world, why did Geoffrey have to pick the only one who had no trouble throwing his words right back at him?

  Because she was the one that made his blood pump faster.

  And that right there was the trouble. If he cared about her, even a little, he owed her the truth. The whole truth.

  After all, she was now involved in this mess, whether he wanted her to be or not.

  “All right. I did steal the Keswick pin. But not for its monetary value,” he said, letting out a long breath. “I stole it because the wings are made of wyvern scales from the Realm that hold a powerful magic. I was hoping to harness that magic to help me and my fellow exiles return to our world. But before I could, you pricked your hand and the magic found its way inside you.”

  Mercy’s forehead wrinkled. She blinked once. Twice. And then…

  “What the hell are you babbling about?” She twisted around in his lap to face him. “The Realm? Wyvern scales? Magic? What kind of idiot do you think I am?”

  “Mercy, you just thre
w me across the room with a word,” he said. “The force of your anger knocked over the furniture and shattered glass. How do you explain that?”

  “I-I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Some elaborate trick you’re playing on me.”

  “What about the voices?” he asked.

  Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know about the voices?”

  “Because I know what wyvern magic does,” he said, refusing to ease up. She wanted the bald truth, well, then by the Heavens, she was going to get it. “You can communicate with other planes.”

  “Planes?”

  “Other worlds.”

  “Like the fae world?” she asked with a smirk. Only the mocking gleam didn’t quite reach her eyes. Doubt had started to creep in.

  “Exactly.” He cocked his chin to the side. “That’s what you heard, Mercy. The sound of countless other creatures. Some just like you, others much more powerful. And the combined force of them entering your head at once brought you to your knees.”

  “Shut up,” she said, scrambling to get out of his lap. This time she managed to sit all the way up. She teetered as she rose to her feet, but stayed steady. “This isn’t funny.”

  “I’m not trying to make you laugh.”

  “I said shut up,” she shouted louder this time, clapping her hands over her ears.

  “You’re the one who demanded the truth,” he said, rising to his feet.

  She tilted hard to the side, and James wrapped his hands around her shoulders. He spun her around and was horrified to see her face was even paler than before. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on her brow. Her eyes overflowed with fear.

  “I’m not talking to you,” she said.

  Chapter Eight

  Your majesty, the magicians say there’s been a disturbance in the middle world.

  What kind of disturbance?

  Mercy teetered on her heels, nearly knocked over by the sound of the unwanted voices echoing inside her skull. She half expected to crash against the floor again, but James held her upright.

  “Who are you talking to, Mercy?”