Forsaken Fae (Forsaken Fae #1) - R.A. Steffan Page 0,2

of angry, furniture-breaking sex.”

“Hey, now. It’s a good movie,” Rans protested. “She’s right about the furniture-breaking sex, though. I suppose that’s one of the unavoidable effects of turning a part-bred succubus into a vampire. Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

Len tried manfully not to blush, having had some firsthand experience of Zorah’s complicated family situation and its consequences. Not many people could claim that they’d once escorted a hybrid sex demon to a BDSM club, then tied her up in shibari rope so she could feed from the sexual energy of the crowd perving on her.

It wasn’t really the kind of thing you put on your résumé.

Zorah cleared her throat. “Anyway.” Whether her dusky skin hid her embarrassment, or whether she simply wasn’t bothered by the casual discussion of her sex life, Len couldn’t have said. Whatever the case, she dragged the conversation back on track, looking pointedly at Rans. “He’s my friend, which is a simpler word to use than trying to describe whatever vaguely homoerotic on-again, off-again frenemies thing you’ve had going on with him for the last few centuries.”

Rans stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “I do not have homoerotic subtext with Tinkerbell. Take that back this instant.”

Len squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, feeling the familiar pull of the piercing in his left eyebrow as the skin moved.

“Moving on,” he said, a bit desperately. “So, you’re basically saying he’s done something to piss off the other Fae, and now you’re trying to hide him. While he’s, y’know, unconscious.”

“Succinctly put,” Rans said. “Though more accurately, he’s done three things in fairly quick succession to piss off his people—each one more egregious than the last.”

“Terrific,” Len muttered. “And you brought him here to hide him... why, exactly?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Zorah said. “This isn’t the hiding place. Not really. We just need to stash him here for an hour or two while we set up transportation to somewhere more permanent. Dragging his limp carcass around with us the whole time would be a total pain in the ass.”

Len gave Zorah his best are you being serious right now expression. “And, again. You brought him to me because...?”

It was Rans who answered. “Because your heart’s too big for your own good, and you’re bad at saying no to things.”

“I said no to this before you two even walked in the door,” Len pointed out—quite fairly, he thought.

“You’re bad at saying no to things and meaning it,” Rans clarified. “Never fear, though. Old Alby can snooze on your couch for a bit and you’ll hardly even know he’s here. We’ll come back and collect him just as soon as we can arrange to get him someplace magically warded. It shouldn’t take long—there are a couple of possibilities to pursue in this general area.”

Len looked at the lustrous, pale blond hair half-obscuring Albigard’s sharp cheekbones and sensual mouth. The Fae’s eyelashes were a dark golden color, and seemed almost ridiculously long and thick.

“God, I hate you two sometimes,” he told the vampires.

“Unsurprising, given the circumstances,” Rans agreed cheerfully. “Speaking of which, how’s the Triumph faring?”

“Your motorcycle?” Len replied in a bland tone. “Oh, that. I let a friend borrow it and he wrapped it around a telephone pole. Total loss. Sorry.”

A look of genuine alarm settled over Rans’ features.

“Kidding,” Len told him. “It’s fine—it’s in the back. Though I feel I should point out that the only reason I have your motorcycle in the first place is because the last time you were here, you borrowed my car and then abandoned it in Chicago. So, if you could... y’know... get it back one to me of these days...?”

Rans relaxed. “Ah. Yes. I’d quite forgotten about the fate of the much-vaunted pimpmobile, given all of the recent excitement.”

Zorah looked thoughtful. “Actually, it might make sense to head for Albigard’s old property in Chicago, rather than trying to find someplace here in St. Louis. It’s already got protective wards, for one thing. And Len, if you came with us, you could pick up your car at the same time. Can you take a few days off?”

Len crossed his arms. “You do remember that the nightclub where I used to work was blown up during one of the Fae’s many attempts to kill you, right?”

She had the grace to look sheepish for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “Oh, right. Sorry. So... is that a yes, then? Though in my defense, they were actually trying to kill