They had plenty of it.
And that was something I needed. Desperately. Especially after my recent fiasco with the Lamborghini. Maybe Lady Luck was with me tonight.
I glanced through the air, searching for signs of the mysterious creature, but she was nowhere to be found. Figured.
When I turned back towards them, I gasped. Two large black wings protruded from the guy’s back, unfurling with such glory and might that I stared at them in complete and utter shock.
Tuddle’s dark warning suddenly made sense and I wanted to race to turn off the bay lights and claim I was closed for the night. It was almost two in the morning. Any respectable mechanic would be closed by now.
And that’s exactly what I was. A respectable mechanic. Not a demonfae in hiding from the rest of the magical world.
And these guys… they spelled trouble with a capital F. As in, Focking Trouble.
If anyone ever discovered that I was a demonfae, I’d immediately be put to death. They’d skip right on through the trial and, instead, the only discussion would be to gauge between whether or not to do it quickly, or as painfully slow as possible.
When I realized I was staring, I slammed my mouth shut. I was supposed to be a human, and humans weren’t supposed to see wings. Especially demon wings. I step toed back, intending to shut the bay door and pretend I hadn’t seen them, but my eyes drifted back towards the driver’s seat and dark, mysterious eyes met mine.
Shit. He saw me notice them. I couldn’t escape now.
2
Blayde
A wave of foreboding washed over me, dark and unrelenting. I swallowed down the knot in my throat, with mom’s words ringing in my ears: don’t ever speak to demons. It was rule number one in our house.
If we ever saw a demon, we immediately looked the other way. Pretend we didn’t see it. If you caught its eye or if they tried to speak to you, you got out of there as fast as possible without drawing attention to yourself.
Mingling species between demons and fae was forbidden; forget about falling in love or having sex. It was a firm rule, punishable by death in our world, and thus, the reason why my whole family lived in hiding.
It didn’t matter that my mom had been a fae princess, or that my dad was king of one of the Torch empires where the demons lived, or, where humans call hell.
They’d fallen in love and run away from everything, leaving behind their responsibilities and a shitload of chaos in their wake.
It was a Romeo and Juliet story, and had ended the exact same way, except more violently.
The car rolled to a stop right outside my bay doors and the demon sitting behind the wheel stepped out. His friend came around to the side of the car, eyeing me just as speculatively as I was eyeing them. I checked my own blue wings, satisfied that they were tucked in tight and subtly rippled my fingers, feeling my magic flow through them in preparation, just in case.
Pulling a razzle-dazzle charm pop out of my biker’s top, I checked the glamour that hid my heritage one more time before stepping into the yellow light from the parking lot, ready to refer them to the mechanic down the street. He was a shitty and underhanded mechanic but I wasn’t worried about a couple of demons.
I got right down to business. “What happened to your car?”
The one who’d slid out from behind the wheel stepped forward, his eyes taking me in. I straightened. People were generally attracted to me; it was an effect of my specific fae genes and could either be useful or the cause of more trouble.
In this case, trouble was calling for me because this demon was sinfully hot.
He held his hand out in greeting. “Something’s wrong with the engine.”
I glanced down at his extended hand, acknowledging it, and then ignored it. Demons could do all kinds of things through touch, and I wasn’t willing to take the chance they would do something to me. Like convince me to take on this job.
Instead, I unwrapped my blue, razzle dazzle sucker and popped it into my mouth, sucking on it. “Duh. What’s wrong with it?”
Instead of being offended like I’d hoped he would, he casually leaned back against his car, looking unaffected by my diss. He had hollow cheek bones, a dignified brow, and an elegant nose line. His features were noble, aristocratic almost, but he disguised it with a rebellious hair cut—shaved on both sides and long in the middle like a shaggy mane.
He also wore what looked like two-day-old stubble. It gave him a rougher vibe that made my toes curl.
His eyes dropped to the lollipop in my mouth. “What’s your name?”
I sighed as if it was the biggest imposition to reveal it. “Blayde.”
His eyebrows furrowed even though his gaze hadn’t left my mouth. “Interesting name.”
“I’m an interesting person.”
His amber-gold eyes snapped up to mine, focusing, sharp and intelligent. “Maybe.”
I frowned, scowling at his rudeness. I’m the rude one here, buddy. To get back at him, I pulled out one of my special lollipops, the kind I’d hexed to induce burping, hiccupping, and farting, out of the leather pouch at my hip. I offered it to him, biting down on my lip to keep from smiling. “Want one?”
“Sure.” Not bothering to thank me, he shoved it into the pocket of his black skinny jeans.
Twirling my charm pop on my tongue, I nodded towards the Stingray. “Your car?”
“I’m not sure what’s wrong with it. That’s why we brought it here.” The corner of his lip tilted up in a smirk like it was super obvious why he’d brought his car in. Jerk.
I decided I hated him.
Except for the little annoying fact that I also wanted to jump his bones.
Did I mention his red, gleaming hair? It was so shiny and alluring I wanted to run my hand through it. I was a sucker for that blatant display of fighting genes.
Damnit. I was in some serious trouble. I wanted to hate-jump him.
“I’m Nix.” He jerked his head to his car-pushing friend, who’d yet to say a word. “And this is Maverick.”
I nodded my head, not even looking at the friend. “Nice to meet you, but I don’t work with idiots.” I gave Nix a cheeky grin. “But the mechanic up the street does.”
Again, Nix didn’t react how I’d expected. Instead of getting angry, he put his hand to his heart. “You wound me. Tell me, what makes you call me, a person you just met, an idiot?”
“Your car making a knocking noise?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Your engine’s busted. I smell burnt oil. When’s the last time you changed it?”
Nix’s smile faltered. “Change?”
I sighed heavily. “You’re supposed to change your oil regularly, otherwise it gets dirty and dries out. Then your engine’s focked.” I turned away, reaching up to close my bay doors. “I’m done for the night.” I thought about the wiring I was probably going to have to redo in the morning. “In fact, I’m booked months out. I don’t have time for an engine redo.” I grabbed the door and tugged it down, glancing back over at them.
Nix still stared at me but Maverick was studying the almost-empty bay, with only the Lamborghini inside. There were no other cars in the parking lot except my own rusted orange 1969 Pontiac Firebird.
Unfortunately, the owner of said Lamborghini was the only customer I’d had all week. My shop was placed near the freeway of an otherwise small town, so I was either busting at the seams with emergencies from traveling customers, or dead as crickets.