Bound to the Fey (Book Four of The Mortal Champion): (A Supernatural, Fairy, College, Erotic Romance) by Reed James
Authors: Reed James
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swirled around her as she sat cross-legged on the bed, her hands gripping her phone.
Gunnar had ignored all her calls. All her texts. He had disappeared.
What if he's fled? What if the Pixie has gotten to him somehow.
“If he had fled, I'll find him and flay his skin,” she hissed, icicles forming on her fingertips.
The cold engulfed her, caressing her naked skin. The moisture in the air condensed and froze on her flesh, becoming small, burning dots of frigid pain. She savored it. Ice coated her hard nipples and frosted the lips of her pussy.
Cold, merciless anger burst out of her in a fierce gale. The windows rattled and pictures were knocked off the wall, crashing to the floor. She poured it out. Anger at Gunnar for being so stubborn, anger at Maeve for daring to find a backbone again, and anger at the lying emotion that still bound Gunnar to Maeve.
How she hated love.
Corrigan's phone chirped. She swiped her thumb across the screen, melting the ice. It was a text from Gunnar. The wind died around her. She read the text.
“Sry I didn't get back to you. Phone died. Had an emergency to take care of. OMW home. See you in 10.”
Corrigan stood up, the ice cracking and falling from her flesh. She threw the phone to the side, an icy flail forming in her hand out of swirling cold. “You are going to pay for every minute you made me wait,” she promised.
~ ~ ~
Gunnar pulled his Charger into the parking space at his apartment complex. He gripped the steering wheel, the plastic container bulging his pocket. He pulled it out, the metal sliver rattling around inside the tube. He used his teeth to pry off the cap and shook out the thin sliver onto a crease in his right palm, the metal end biting into his flesh.
Gunnar winced, closing his sweaty fist about it.
Gunnar closed his eyes. Maeve's smiling face appeared. Have I made the biggest mistake in my life? Did I let Corrigan trick me? Did I lose Maeve?
Gunnar's fear remained, but it was dwarfed by his drive to know the truth. He kicked up his door, striding out. His shoulders were set, his blond hair framing his fierce face. In another life, he would have been a viking warrior leaping from the longship and charging his enemy with sword in hand, screaming bloody fury.
Gunnar took the stairs two at a time, the silver biting into his palm. He reached his door and thrust it open with a bang, bursting in to his apartment. He couldn't stop. He had to keep moving. Gunnar knew if he stopped to think he was done. He would lose the battle to fear.
“You've been very bad,” Corrigan purred, slipping out of his bedroom. She was naked and lovely, water dripped off her ivory flesh, and a leather flail clutched in her hand. “It's time for your punishment.”
Gunnar couldn't help the overwhelming lust that shot through him. His knees buckled, begging Gunnar to kneel and accept her flail. He strode forward, marching at her, staring into her eyes and looking for any hint of the truth.
“Umm, someone's eager to be...” Her golden eyes narrow. “What is that stink? No!”
Gunnar grasped her left arm with his right, pressing the sliver of cold iron against her flesh. If she was human, it would do nothing to her.
Corrigan screamed. Smoke curled from Gunnar's palm pressed against her arm. The flail cracked, slamming into Gunnar's chest with such force he stumbled back. A black burn, only a sliver in size, marred her arm.
“You fucking bastard!” she snarled her flesh rippling. The lines of her face grew harsher, more angular and alien, and somehow even more breathtakingly beautiful. Her pupils narrowed into black slits and her violet hair shimmered like the northern lights. The leather flail frosted into pristine ice.
“You are a Lean Sidhe,” Gunnar growled.
The flail cracked again, wrapping around his right arm. Icy, numbing pain filled him. His hand shook. The sliver of cold iron flew free and tumbling to the floor.
“Maeve was right, you fucking
Gunnar had ignored all her calls. All her texts. He had disappeared.
What if he's fled? What if the Pixie has gotten to him somehow.
“If he had fled, I'll find him and flay his skin,” she hissed, icicles forming on her fingertips.
The cold engulfed her, caressing her naked skin. The moisture in the air condensed and froze on her flesh, becoming small, burning dots of frigid pain. She savored it. Ice coated her hard nipples and frosted the lips of her pussy.
Cold, merciless anger burst out of her in a fierce gale. The windows rattled and pictures were knocked off the wall, crashing to the floor. She poured it out. Anger at Gunnar for being so stubborn, anger at Maeve for daring to find a backbone again, and anger at the lying emotion that still bound Gunnar to Maeve.
How she hated love.
Corrigan's phone chirped. She swiped her thumb across the screen, melting the ice. It was a text from Gunnar. The wind died around her. She read the text.
“Sry I didn't get back to you. Phone died. Had an emergency to take care of. OMW home. See you in 10.”
Corrigan stood up, the ice cracking and falling from her flesh. She threw the phone to the side, an icy flail forming in her hand out of swirling cold. “You are going to pay for every minute you made me wait,” she promised.
~ ~ ~
Gunnar pulled his Charger into the parking space at his apartment complex. He gripped the steering wheel, the plastic container bulging his pocket. He pulled it out, the metal sliver rattling around inside the tube. He used his teeth to pry off the cap and shook out the thin sliver onto a crease in his right palm, the metal end biting into his flesh.
Gunnar winced, closing his sweaty fist about it.
Gunnar closed his eyes. Maeve's smiling face appeared. Have I made the biggest mistake in my life? Did I let Corrigan trick me? Did I lose Maeve?
Gunnar's fear remained, but it was dwarfed by his drive to know the truth. He kicked up his door, striding out. His shoulders were set, his blond hair framing his fierce face. In another life, he would have been a viking warrior leaping from the longship and charging his enemy with sword in hand, screaming bloody fury.
Gunnar took the stairs two at a time, the silver biting into his palm. He reached his door and thrust it open with a bang, bursting in to his apartment. He couldn't stop. He had to keep moving. Gunnar knew if he stopped to think he was done. He would lose the battle to fear.
“You've been very bad,” Corrigan purred, slipping out of his bedroom. She was naked and lovely, water dripped off her ivory flesh, and a leather flail clutched in her hand. “It's time for your punishment.”
Gunnar couldn't help the overwhelming lust that shot through him. His knees buckled, begging Gunnar to kneel and accept her flail. He strode forward, marching at her, staring into her eyes and looking for any hint of the truth.
“Umm, someone's eager to be...” Her golden eyes narrow. “What is that stink? No!”
Gunnar grasped her left arm with his right, pressing the sliver of cold iron against her flesh. If she was human, it would do nothing to her.
Corrigan screamed. Smoke curled from Gunnar's palm pressed against her arm. The flail cracked, slamming into Gunnar's chest with such force he stumbled back. A black burn, only a sliver in size, marred her arm.
“You fucking bastard!” she snarled her flesh rippling. The lines of her face grew harsher, more angular and alien, and somehow even more breathtakingly beautiful. Her pupils narrowed into black slits and her violet hair shimmered like the northern lights. The leather flail frosted into pristine ice.
“You are a Lean Sidhe,” Gunnar growled.
The flail cracked again, wrapping around his right arm. Icy, numbing pain filled him. His hand shook. The sliver of cold iron flew free and tumbling to the floor.
“Maeve was right, you fucking
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