Prince Charming Doesn't Live Here 3 by Christine Warren

Author:Christine Warren
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780312947941
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2010-11-02T04:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

Danice had no idea what the hel was going on, and she didn’t like the feeling. Not one bit. She also didn’t like that something in this place had sent Mac into a tizzy or that he was standing between her and it so that she couldn’t even see what the matter was.

That second

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part particularly grated, since Danice made it a policy never to make up her mind to be afraid of something until she’d taken a look at it for herself.

Unfortunately, Mac was so much tal er than she that she’d have to peer under his arm like a four-year-old she wanted to catch a glimpse. Damned man.

Just before she gave in and said to hel with her dignity, the “that” Mac had referred to stepped close enough for Danice to see around him, provided she craned h head and torso slightly to the side. What she saw didn’t quite match up with what she’d been expecting.

They had to be Fae. Danice could accept no other explanation. Once Mac had explained to her that the natives of Faerie had less in common with Tinker Bel and more in common with the Elves from the Lord the Rings movies, this had been what she’d pictured them looking like. Until she’d met Quigley and learn that he was native to Faerie as wel . After that, she’d tried not to think about it much at al . But the figures standing in front of them now were beautiful.

Breathtakingly beautiful.

And al obviously female.

Danice frowned.

There appeared to be five of them, each of them easily matching Mac in height (which put them around six feet) and as slim and straight as a supermodel.

Al had hair long enough to reach their butts, but wore it pul ed back or confined in tails or braids. Two had inky hair so black it glinted blue in the moonlight, two were platinum blondes, and one had hair the color of living flames. Each had features more beautiful than the last, and Danice hated al of them on sight.

“Mac,” she hissed, poking him in the ribs. Hard. “Who are these people?”

“Not now,” he whispered back, somehow managing to make the breath of sound into a firm, granite command.

Danice pinched her lips shut and glared. Both at Mac and at any of the strange women unfortunate enough to stand in her line of sight.

“The question of the moment is who are you,” one of the blondes said, speaking as if Danice had addressed her question to the Fae rather than to Mac.

“And more important, what you are doing on royal lands without tile king’s permission.”

“Doesn’t sound much like a question to me,” Danice muttered. “Mote like a demand from someone with a big stick up her ass.”

Mac squeezed her hand tightly. “Shut up, Danice.”

“Wel ?” the blonde prompted. “We are waiting, bi do not try our patience.”

Danice felt Mac draw a deep breath: - -

“My name is Cal ahan, son of Tyra,” he announce in a clear voice so the Fae could hear.

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