I'm the Don of all Fae in New York City...have I mentioned I'm a 16 year old human girl? part 3

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sorry it took me a while to get this up. I have more coming up soon! <3

I gripped his hand in mine. "It's alright. They won't know."

"They will," he said gravely. "They always know."

I moved closer to him and wrapped my arms around his waist on instinct. Cameron was surprised at first, but soon realized the gesture as a comforting one and relaxed.

Suddenly, Cameron started vibrating. I pulled back from him, alarmed, only to discover it was the vibration of his cell phone. He pulled it out and checked the screen. Immediately, his eyebrows furrowed and his body tensed up.

"What is it?" I asked, but I already knew, as evidenced by the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"One royal entourage accounted for."

I gripped the railing tightly, but my voice remained calm as I asked, "Which one?"

"Werewolf," he answered simply.

"Alright, let's go party!" I forced a smile on my face and pretended enthusiasm.

"Let's," he sighed, for once not very eager about the prospect of partying.

He placed my arm on his and led me down into the fray as if I were a regal princess. Oh, the irony of it all.

Cameron greeted his partygoers with a nod and a smile. He spoke a few dazzling words to his more esteemed guests and then let them get on with it. I trailed behind in his shadow and smiled so much I was sure my face was going to crack any moment. He held onto me tightly and for that I was grateful. I didn't want to get lost amongst drunken Fae flailing about wildly. They could zap me dead or something else equally drastic by accident.

We passed by the fiery pole dancers and saw that one enterprising male was twisting with the lead dancer. Her agile movements drew flames in the air, burning his skin. I quickly made towards them, pulling out of Cameron's grasp, concerned for the warlock's welfare since he himself obviously wasn't. I reached out to pull the warlock off the platform, but he only moved to the beat faster. I was so close to the fire nymphs by now that I was sweating like crazy. One flame licked my finger and I jumped back, yelping like an injured dog.

By now, Cameron had reached me, and he pulled me back from the entrancing and deadly flames.

"Wait, we have to help him! He's obviously too drunk to realize what's going on," I yelled over the base line.

Cameron chuckled, surprising me with his callousness. "He's not drunk. He's a necromancer. They like the pain."

Stupid masochistic necromancers.

I growled, "Damn Fae and their craziness."

Cameron laughed at that. He tugged me toward the bar. "You're finger is swelling."

I looked down and saw the large welt on my thumb that was rapidly growing. I groaned. This was what I got for messing with Fae affairs with my human limitations. It hurt like hell, but I wasn't about to break down and cry in front of all these Fae.

Cameron pushed through the hot and sweaty crowds and at last managed to seat me on a barstool.

He waved over the barman, who was a friendly ogre named Yaruk, and said, "Can you get Don some ice water and salve? She has a burn. And please don't give her something contaminated, it might make matters worse."

"Sure thing, boss." He rubbed his large, squat nose that was situated squarely on his wide, gray face, before turning round and looking under the counter for some clean water.

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