Otherworld Challenger (24 page)

Enchantments. Chulah had no way of detecting such magic from a pat-down. She frowned, remembering the fairy's cross crystal in the purse. Would he count a stone as a primitive weapon?

He gave an exaggerated sigh and strode back to his bike.

April's mouth dropped open. She'd been so sure he'd give her a ride. “Are you leaving me?”

He unbuckled a side bag from the bike and pulled out a spare helmet. “For crying out loud, just wear this and hop on. I don't know how you're going to manage in that skirt, though.”

Not the most gracious invitation, but it would have to do. April eyed the helmet with distaste. How could anyone stand to have their head wrapped in such a tight bubble? “Do I have to wear it?”

“Nobody rides this bike without a helmet. It's the law. Besides, only an idiot would ride without one.”

There went her fantasy of the wind blowing his long black hair in her face, covering her like a blanketing caress. And actually, she'd seen him riding around his yard without a helmet, but it might not be prudent to mention that fact. A female member of the Council had taken her aside and explained about the male ego thing. Which was much the same in the fairy realm, so point taken.

She didn't want Chulah to think she was an idiot, so she stuffed the torture device on her head.

It was stifling. Her hot breath steamed the windshield thingy. Chulah lifted the helmet's flap and she sucked air.

“I'm ready,” she announced bravely. She was used to flying, the wind fanning her face and hair, free and wild. Had dreamed of a motorcycle ride as a new kind of flying, human style.

His hands were suddenly at her throat and she gasped, taking an involuntary step back.

“Relax. I'm just tightening the straps.”

“Oh.” She glanced down, mesmerized by the sight of his olive-skinned fingers so close to her pale neck. Fantasies that had nothing to do with motorcycle riding filled her mind, and she shut her eyes. His hands were warm and competent, and a little shiver of pleasure rippled through her as they accidentally brushed against the vulnerable hollow of her throat.

“There. You're good.”

Did she imagine his voice had a huskier edge, an undertone of desire? Her eyes flew to his face, but his back already faced her as he straddled the bike, putting on his own helmet. Chulah motioned with his hands. “Let's go.”

Now she would get to wrap her arms around his waist. April almost licked her lips. She walked to the bike, assessing it, before lifting her skirt and swinging a leg over the side. The skirt rode up to her butt, but she should be fine. She'd often observed human women exposing much more skin at the beach.

The motorcycle lurched forward, and she wrapped her arms around his trim waist. Damned helmet prevented laying her face between Chulah's broad shoulders. She itched to explore the muscles that she'd seen many a time as he worked outside in his yard. Soon, April promised herself. Very soon.

The roaring of the engine pounded in her ears, and she acclimated to the jerk and shudder of tires hitting small potholes. April liked the ride very much. What it lacked in fairy finesse, it made up for in raw power. No wonder Chulah rode so much when he was troubled. On his Harley, he harnessed that power and focused his attention on the open road.

Pine trees and dirt roads gave way to buildings and pavement. Unease prickled down her spine. She much preferred the woods, but had made periodic, invisible trips to downtown Bayou La Siryna in preparation for this mission.

A mermaid statue came into view and she breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar landmark. “Turn left at the next light,” she yelled to Chulah.

He nodded in acknowledgment, and as they turned onto Main Street, she counted the buildings to her left. One, two three, four... “Stop here,” she directed.

Chulah expertly swerved into a parking space and shut off the engine. April sat, waiting for him to get off first.

He lifted his helmet, and the hair that had been secured inside it fell loose. A veil of soap-scented warmth enveloped April's neck and shoulders. She again cursed the helmet as it blocked her face from experiencing the same intimate contact. Fumbling with the straps, she took off her own helmet and shook her hair free.

Chulah glanced over his shoulder. “Get off,” he commanded.

April hastily complied, throwing one bare leg over the side to dismount. A loud whistle erupted across the street where three young men stared and pointed. Usually a sign of approval, if she remembered correctly.

She looked around, but no one else was close by. Were they whistling at her or Chulah? And for what reason?

Chulah scowled at them and they walked on by, laughing.

“Why were those guys whistling at you?” she asked. “Were they admiring your parking skills, perhaps?”

He arched a brow and studied her curiously. “They were whistling at
you
. Not me.”

“Why me?”

“I suspect it was the show of leg,” he remarked drily.

But she'd shown less skin than women in bathing suits. Did they constantly whistle while at the beach? Very confusing. The Council had advised covering confusion with diversion. April ran a hand through her hair. “So,” she said brightly. “Would you like to come inside for a drink?”

This was a human convention she was sure was appropriate. And her apartment was supposed to be well stocked in all manner of human food and drink.

“No.” He turned his back on her and headed for his bike.

“Wait,” she called out hurriedly. “Are you sure you don't want a drink? It might be more comfortable to talk about your problem with me than riding your motorcycle all evening.”

He slowly turned and confronted her, his face a stone mask. “What makes you think I have a problem? You don't even know me.”

Oh, but she did. Only Chulah couldn't know that yet—if ever. That would happen only once he trusted and fell in love with her. Then she could share all her secrets. That was, if he could forgive her. A very big
if
.

“True, I don't know you well,” she admitted, scrambling for an explanation. “I just thought you seemed, um, preoccupied and worried.”

His jaw clenched. “I'm fine.”

She'd inadvertently injured his pride to suggest otherwise. “All right, then.” She smiled and shrugged. “Since you've already played my knight in shining armor, maybe you could help me out again.”

“What do you want now?”

His response was not promising. How was she to build a relationship with him if he wouldn't even have a drink with her? She couldn't fail. To return to the Fae realm in defeat would be humiliating. She'd been so cocky, so
sure
that Chulah would help them stop Hoklonote.

And she'd been equally certain that he would return her warm feelings could he but meet her in human form. It was what she'd been dreaming of for so many years. That, and restoring the good name of her mother in the fairy realm.

Foolish, foolish Tallulah had rejected his heart. What April wouldn't have given to be in Tallulah's shoes. Hurt and jealousy lanced April inside, a new sensation. Sure, she'd known sadness and disappointment, but not this searing stab in the gut as she'd witnessed Chulah's proposal. Her eyes watered.

“Are you crying?” Chulah asked, surprise written on his face. “Ah, damn...don't do that.”

She stiffened. “I am
not
crying,” she said with all the dignity she could muster. “If I were, there would be tears running down my face. Which they are not.” It didn't count if they were contained behind eyelids; she was pretty sure on that score.

“What the hell,” he muttered. “Let's have a drink.”

“Really?” She brightened. “You won't regret it. It'll be fun.”

“Whatever.” He strapped his helmet on the handlebars and motioned for her to hand her own over. She did, and he tossed it in the side bag and buckled it up.

April opened her purse, searching for the store key. In the back room was a staircase leading to her upstairs apartment.

The Pixie Land door swung open and a short man with a red beard beamed at them. “Hey, boss, I've 'bout got all the inventory unpacked and ready to open for business in the morn.”

Steven, a fellow fairy helping in the mission, had caught her by surprise. She'd thought he'd have returned to the Fae realm by now. “Th-that's great,” she said. “We're going upstairs—”

“No, we're going to a bar,” Chulah interrupted. He walked over to Steven and extended a hand. “Chulah Rivers.”

“Steven Andrews,” he smoothly replied, shaking hands. “Pleasure to meet ya.”

Chulah nodded and gestured down the street. “The bar's only a block from here. We can walk.”

“Sure.”

“Excuse us a moment, will ya?” Steven said to Chulah. “Just need to check with the boss on a small matter.”

“Take your time.”

Chulah was better mannered around strangers than he was with her, April noted.

Steven pulled her into the shop doorway. “You might be needing this.” He pressed a roll of bills into her palm. “A little mad money in case your fellow doesn't pay or you get stranded.”

“Good idea.” She stuffed the money in her purse. “See you later.”

Steven gave a broad wink. “Watched you out there. Excellent job using your feminine wiles on the man. None of us like to see a woman cry.”

“I wasn't using my wiles,” she sputtered, glancing back at Chulah, who was busy studying the fairy figurines in the shop window.

He gave a maddening little chuckle. “Sure you weren't.”

“Oh, for the queen's sake—I'll be back in a bit.”

“Take your time. Wrap him around your little finger.” The smile left his face. “Don't be like your mother. Your loyalty is to
our
world. Not theirs.”

April shut the door in his blathering face, afraid Chulah might overhear and angry at the slur to her mother. She took a deep breath to steady her emotions. “I'm ready.” She smiled. “What's the name of this place?”

“Bayou Brandy & Spirits. A friend of mine owns it.”

They fell into step, April bubbling with excitement. This officially counted as a date in her book. She'd been courted a few times by her own kind, but they acted as if they were doing her a great favor since her mother was so reviled. Besides, the attentions of the notoriously fickle male of her species held no real charm. In that respect, she was just like her mother. She wanted a forever kind of man.

A man like Chulah.

All she had to do was win his trust, persuade him to help their mutual cause, work with him to defeat Hoklonote, restore her family's name, convince the queen and Council to let her remain in Bayou La Siryna—plus, win his undying love. All while protecting her secret offense against him years ago.

April wasn't daunted a bit.

Copyright © 2016 by Debbie Herbert

ISBN-13: 9781488004728

Otherworld Challenger

Copyright © 2016 by Amanda Anders

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical,
now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

www.Harlequin.com