The previous night with him had been something new. She wanted to simultaneously run for safety and jump his body. He hadn’t been bluffing about taking everything. Could she allow herself to be that vulnerable with anyone? Ever? He wouldn’t allow for any other way, and she had a duty to uphold. An important one that did not include the sexy hybrid.
That thought alone should have her making a break for it.
Instead, she let herself enjoy the morning, drifting off to a place between dreams and reality, a vault where memories lived.
Smoke filled the kitchen, and she opened the window, using a towel to blow it outside.
At the cheery yellow table, Sandy laughed hysterically, holding her stomach, being of no use whatsoever. Her thick hair was piled high on her head, and she’d tried a new sparkly silver eyeshadow that was the rage in Scotland. “Stop trying to cook.”
Mercy sighed and tossed the towel aside. She peered at the black contents in the pan. “Eggs Benedict looked so easy.”
Sandy snorted. “It is easy. You’re twenty years old. How can you not cook eggs?”
Mercy rescued several binders from the end of the counter and placed them on the island, away from anything that could burn them. She and Sandy were back in Scotland for a week so she could tweak her people’s investments. It looked like they might have to return for good soon because of the dimensional disturbances rippling through time and space. “Don’t you have work to do today?”
Sandy sighed, her eyes sparkling. “Yeah, but I’m hungry.”
Mercy rolled her eyes and took a bacon and cheese quiche out of the fridge to microwave. “I bought it yesterday at a deli down the street. Just in case.”
Sandy hopped happily in place. “Excellent. The humans have some new automatic weapons I’m checking out today. I don’t think they’re as good as ours, but I might as well double-check. Sometimes humans are innovative.”
Meh. Maybe.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Enter,” Mercy called, taking the quiche from the microwave. Now there was a decent human invention.
Niall entered the room, having obviously just purchased new dark jeans and a button-down white shirt. As he’d gotten older, he’d taken on more responsibility as king, and it showed in the way he moved. “Morning.”
Sandy jumped up, glancing at her watch. “Morning, Niall. I was just heading to the local police station.” She winked at Mercy and zipped out of the room before Mercy could protest.
Mercy slipped the quiche onto the counter and cleared her throat. She’d dated a few of the Fae and several humans while on Earth, but Niall always seemed to throw her a little bit. He watched her carefully, and while that should interest her, it was more annoying than not. It was as if he was waiting for her to screw up. Or perhaps that was just her imagination working overtime whenever she was around the Fae king. “I have a report ready for you and the president about some new investments I think we should make. Green energy might be the wave of the future on Earth,” she said.
“All right.” His blond hair was ruffled, and his brown eye was a little darker than usual. “The geneticists we’ve been consulting with have finalized the best plan for strengthening our people.”
Her heart started to thrum. She had found a diary belonging to her mother, who’d been mated to her father, which is why and probably how Mercy’s creation had been a success. They’d been in love. The real kind. There had been no chart for them. Fate had brought them together. “Human geneticists don’t know everything.”
“We’ve met with witches, too,” Niall said, drawing a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. “A few that we trust.”
Witches were brilliant with science, able to create fire at will and manipulate the laws of physics. Gut instinct told her what the paper would show, but she held out her hand anyway. Yep. There she was.
“They confirm what we’ve already been told. Want to be queen?” Niall asked, his grin charming.
Not really. She wanted to hop dimensions, play the stock market like a gambling addict, and fall completely and hopelessly in love with her direct opposite. “Why us?” she asked instead.
“Your ability to teleport and my ability to fight.” He eyed her in a new way. One that seemed to see all of her.
He was good-looking, ambitious, and kind of dark. Those were his good qualities. “I’ll think about it,” she said.
“You’ve got five years,” he said easily.
Ah. The magical age of twenty-five. “What about Sandy?”
Niall glanced down at the paper. “Bud Denvee.”
Humor slapped Mercy hard. “Bud? Man, they hate each other.” No way was that ever going to happen. Those two had been competing since they’d popped out of their test tubes.
Niall shrugged. “Then they’ll burn up the sheets. But they will be mated.”
