Windstorm (sampler)

Chapter 3

"You want to hire me?" I blabbed.

I should have guessed it the moment he had used my father's last name that his appearance in my shop had something to do with my magic—the lighter variety. And maybe I had. But the stinking layers of fear buried the thought before it could even fully form.

To think that a Fae wanted to hire me... I would have laughed if I wasn't so shocked.

Just to be sure, I rephrased his words into a question, emphasizing the me part. The Fae's purple eyes met mine immediately, and the look he gave me practically dripped with disgust.

Oh, yes, he definitely hadn't been counting on doing business with a half demon. And it seemed he didn't exactly appreciate me questioning his judgment, either.

Unease grew in the pit of my stomach like a summer's storm. But instead of reaching across the counter and snapping my neck for being so crass as I half expected he would, the Fae reached behind his back instead. He threw something that must have been shrouded in glamor up until now on the counter.

Something that landed with a sickening plop.

Bile rose in my throat, my eyes watering in response. Oh, gods, I so did not want to look down and see all the gory details.

Watching violence through the essences of inanimate objects I merged with was disturbing enough. I really, really had no desire to add another nightmare to my long, fucked-up list of things I could never un-see.

But luck just wasn't on my side today. The damned thing was already in the periphery of my vision, writing itself in the creases of my memory.

"Motherfucker," I hissed through clenched teeth, and peeled my gaze away from his.

Simply fighting the impulse to throw up all over the place demanded my entire concentration. I forgot about the fear, the threat on my life this male represented. I even forgot about the unnerving warmth pulsing between my thighs.

All I saw was the bloody heart lying on top of my beautiful, once spotless counter.

"My brother," the Fae growled, as if I didn't put two and two together yet.

I swallowed audibly. Helping people find their loved one's killer after the usual routes failed to produce any leads wasn't new to me. In fact, the majority of my cases went down that particular dark path. But there was a rule my clients had to respect if they wanted my cooperation: I never, never dealt with bodies. Or parts of them, for that matter.

My stomach did another unpleasant roll, and I gagged before I could suppress the impulse.

My mother would probably sneer at me right now, utterly disgusted by how weak I was to shy away from blood and gore. With all her power, with all the power my father had, as well, she never could comprehend how one of her children had turned out the way I did. And, in this moment, I kind of shared her sentiment.

But, Fae or not, there was literally a bloody heart lying right in front of me. How the fuck was I supposed to be okay with that?

Curling my fingers around the edge of the counter—the clean part, that was—I took a couple of steadying breaths, painfully aware of the purple gaze that was monitoring my every move. His attention certainly didn't make me feel any better, but, eventually, I composed myself enough to release the death grip I had on the wood. Without words—not that I was in a state to produce any—I skirted past the Fae to the other end of the room, then locked the front door and turned the sign to CLOSED.

My magic kept monitoring the male behind me, but since no alarms were going off inside my core—none that spoke of any murderous intent, at least—I took the time to drop the blinds as well. In all honesty, I doubted the Fae had released the hold he had on his glamor. More than likely, he had only created a wormhole for me to see through. But I still didn't feel like taking any chances. If some passerby were to peer through the window and see the warrior male in all his lethal, magnetic glory...

I shivered, then gave myself a mental slap. No use pondering over things that weren't going to happen. Even if they were a welcomed, although slightly disturbing distraction from the reality that looked at me with purple eyes—and the fucking heart resting on my counter. The warm sunlight whispered its silent goodbye as it brushed against my skin one last time, then yielded to the soft darkness that filled the entire store. Only three chandeliers with their candle-shaped bulbs kept the shadows from reigning completely.

"Right," I exhaled once the store was as secure as it could be, my back pressed to the door. "You do know I work only with inanimate objects, yes?"

Annoyance rippled from the Fae, and for a moment there, I thought he was going to pounce. Roomful of antiques or not.

Magic bubbled inside me without delay. The caged demonic tendrils hissed in warning, not liking his attitude one bit, but, like before, nothing happened.

Gods, this never-ending suspense was killing me.

I reminded myself that he could have murdered me a thousand times by now, yet the thought didn't succeed in reassuring me of anything but the lethal nature of the male before me. There was only one way to move on from this standstill before the anticipation drove me mad, so I straightened my spine and slowly walked closer, keeping my gaze on the chiseled planes of his face the entire time.

"I'm not saying I will take the job," I said carefully as my heels clicked against the tiled floor. "But I can offer you the same treatment as I would anybody who came in here, asking for my services."

All that impressive muscle bunched beneath the black fabric of his tasteful suit and shirt as the Fae crossed his arms. And stared at me in silence.

Great. Just great. He clearly wasn't going to make things any easier.

"Let's start with the basics, shall we?" I tried even as annoyance flickered to life inside me. "What's your name?"

This time, the Fae didn't only arch one eyebrow, but both. "I can hardly see why that's of importance."

The death wish that must have sprouted roots somewhere deep inside me brought me another step closer to him. His power seeped through the fabric of my clothes, rubbing against my skin.

Once again, I stifled the thought of how good it felt, despite the hard edge his energy carried. That was a path I had no desire exploring.

My body, however, didn't get the memo. Ignoring the heat that touched my cheeks, I lifted my chin and locked my gaze with his.

"It's part of the initial conversation. You can give me your name or you can leave. Anonymity isn't an option here."

Silence spread between us, thick and laced with such violence that the demonic tendrils danced in response. I tuned them out, not wanting to hear about my poor lack of judgment from them, as well, and instead channeled as much determination as I could to flood the gray of my eyes.

Damn it all to Chernobog, but I wasn't going to be bullied into anything. Especially not by someone who was in need of my talents.

Lana always did joke that I had a strong stubborn streak—the kind that would get me in serious trouble someday. She was referring to dear old mum, of course, but, given what I was doing right now, her theory seemed to hold true in other areas just as well.

So, faithful to my stubborn self, I stood my ground and concealed the heavy breaths whizzing from my lungs as I waited for the Fae to reply.

Much to my surprise, it didn't take him all that long.

"Cian. My name is Cian."

I waited for a moment, expecting gods-know-what, but the Fae remained quiet.

"Well, then, Cian," I said, trying not to think too hard about the heart resting on the counter by his side. Or just how the sound of his name rolled so sweetly off my tongue. "Please follow me upstairs."