Echo had known as soon as she got close to Elijah in that bar that he was fae. Not only did he emit incredible energy that pushed against her body like a wave but he smelled so similar to Niamh Farren. Sweet, heady, like hot caramel. And yet his scent was different too. It was also smoky and woodsy, almost like a werewolf’s base scent but not quite. An intriguing combination. His scent had been hard to resist, as had the pulse in his neck.
In that bar, sitting across from him, she’d imagined sinking her teeth deep into him and drinking while he thrust inside her. That never happened to Echo. She always had her bloodlust and sexual desire under control.
Elijah Webb wasn’t even her type.
Echo curled her lip in self-recrimination.
It had to be the fae thing.
And yet … she hadn’t felt drawn to Niamh Farren like this.
Maybe Niamh hadn’t stuck around long enough for Echo to feel the draw.
Shaking off her ridiculous anxiety over being attracted to the damn fae, Echo launched up off the bed and smoothed her tight dress down her body. It was short but classy. Way more expensive than a journalist could probably afford, the designer navy cocktail dress molded to her figure. It had a modest high neckline but bare shoulders, and in the back was where all the fun was to be had—except for one strip of beaded fabric holding the dress together, Echo’s back was bare.
Six-inch navy stilettos made her legs look like they went on forever.
She was dressed to seduce a fae so she could trap him in iron.
It should be easy enough.
Before arriving in Vienna, she’d used the file William gave her to research Elijah Webb thoroughly. Born in Carlisle but moved around England until approximately six years old. From there was settled and raised in East London by the Webbs—Nancy, a midwife, and Bill, a high school math teacher. In his youth, Elijah seemed to make no mark on the world at all, though his school records proved he was intelligent and industrious. He’d been accepted into five of the top schools in the UK and had gone to UCL with two of three friends he’d formed a band with at age sixteen. The Strix, named after a mythological bird of ill omen who (ironically) fed on human blood (Echo wondered if that wasn’t a prophetic name to give his band considering her current plans), had gotten a record deal when Elijah was twenty. The Strix found fame with their second studio album two years later and had grown in popularity over the last four years.
Contrary to the lie she’d told Elijah, even Echo had listened to and enjoyed some of their music.
In all that time, there had been no news articles surrounding Webb, no incidents mentioned in the supernatural websites or online chat groups until the last eighteen months. Nothing in his medical records. No illnesses as a child, no fever, no flu or broken bones. Odd, but not something people would likely have picked up on. It made Echo question if his parents knew about his abilities.
Online mentions of Elijah only surfaced after supes who’d met him commented on the energy levels he exuded. This was the reason William had sent Echo after Elijah. And Elijah had no idea to mute himself because he didn’t know he was in danger from The Garm.
Because he didn’t know he was fae.
And Echo was one hundred percent positive hewasfae … because … she sensed it. When she’d called him a warlock, sheperceived no denial within him, only discomfort that someone might guess how powerful he was. How Echo could feel that, or any of his emotions, she didn’t know. And she didn’t care to understand. It was probably all in her head.
The handcuffs would prove her gut feeling right or wrong, anyway.
And if he was fae and had no idea, that would only work in her favor.
That he’d been attracted to her also worked in her favor. At least, she was sure he desired her. What she felt pressing against her skin was foreign and male and all-consuming.How am I sensing these things?
It didn’t matter. She shook off her concerns. All that mattered was that he wanted her and that the lust she’d felt toward him was probably just an instinctual, animal reaction to his own uncontrolled desire.
Yeah, Echo was pretty confident Elijah would show at her hotel room this afternoon. It was five thirty. The band’s flight landed earlier this afternoon. One of the werewolves working for William had informed her of the band’s arrival at their hotel.
Two hours they’d been there, probably settling in, getting some rest. Not that Elijah needed much.
But he was coming.
The werewolf, Jacques, had texted to let her know Webb had left in a cab ten minutes ago.
She chewed on her lip and checked the room again. The sun didn’t set for hours in Brussels. Echo used to like long days when she was human. Now she loathed them. The blinds and curtains were drawn, but still Echo stayed away from the vicinity of the window in case daylight shone through any cracks.
A bottle of champagne and a bowl of fresh strawberries sat on a room service tray. Not very original, but it set the tone. Musicplayed from her cell as it charged. Nothing by the Strix, but a playlist comprised of angsty indie rock about sex and love.
Finally, Echo acknowledged the butterflies in her belly. She hadn’t experienced butterflies since the first night she’d fed from a human. For months, William allowed her to drink nothing but blood from the donor bags he procured on the black market. Then about six months after her turning, he took her on a hunt to teach her control. Echo hadn’t needed it. The thought of drinking from an innocent human had tormented her into nausea. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to William. Didn’t want him to think her weak.
Instead, he’d praised her control, admired it, even. But he’d also forced her on another hunt. This time they followed a male who had spiked a woman’s drink at a nightclub in Munich. They’d switched the drinks on him so he was drugged instead, and then they’d manhandled him into the alley behind the club. From there, Echo had bitten a human for the first time.
The sensation was entirely different from drinking from a bag.
