.

a fight.

      And what a fighter he was. She was almost disappointed that he’d surrendered before she found out if she could beat him. How insane was that?

      He’d defended himself against her attacks, yet he lacked the arrogance of many fighters who could claim his skill. He’d attempted to subdue her, but none of his moves had been designed to truly hurt her. And there was something in his eyes that made her want to trust him, despite the fact that he was human.

      That had to be the most insane part of all.

      And it wasn’t the only disturbing thing about their encounter. There were also the herbs she’d smelled on him. If Agent Greyson Derrington of the FBI had picked up the scent of her people’s most potent sleeping potion from his crime scene, in all probability, his criminal wasn’t human.

      She couldn’t allow herself to keep that knowledge a secret. Not if it could help catch a murderer.

      She cursed and gave the tap a hard twist, yanking some paper towels from the dispenser so she could wipe the dirt from her face. The careful design that the human hairdresser had taken so much time creating was wrecked.

      She began pulling out the remaining hairpins, and groaned as the mirror revealed her bare earlobe. Damn it. She’d lost one of the special dwarven-made diamond earrings that her father had given her for her birthday.

      “Scarlett?” her mother’s voice called from outside the stall.

      She groaned again. “Yes, Ma,” she replied, trying to sound composed.

      “Are you alright? Paddy said you weren’t feeling well.” Marjorie Thresher’s tone was concerned, but there was a strain of exasperation in it. It wasn’t much of a leap for her mother to assume that Scarlett was hiding in the washroom to avoid mingling with the human guests.

      Scarlett hesitated. One look at her dress told her that she needed to avoid opening the stall door at all costs. Nothing but faerie dust was going to fix the torn and stained cloth, and she didn’t have any with her.

      “Not really, Ma. I think I had a bad oyster from the raw bar,” she improvised. “I’ve been in here wondering if I’m going to be sick.”

      Marjorie paused and Scarlett felt her disbelief thick in the air.

      “Paddy said you were going for a walk.”

      Scarlett dropped her head back and exhaled. “I thought the fresh air might make me feel better,” she answered truthfully.

      There was another moment of silence, as if Marjorie was torn between wanting to comfort her daughter, and not truly believing she was ill.

      “Do you want me to come in there?” she asked finally. “I may have a soothing potion in my purse…”

      “No,” Scarlett replied quickly, and then added, “Thanks, Ma. I’d really just like to blink home and go to bed, if you and Da don’t mind.”

      Marjorie sighed. “It’s not your Da and me you should be asking. It’s your brother’s wedding you’ll be leaving early.”

      Scarlett swallowed a lump of guilt. But Doyle probably hadn’t expected her to stay as long as she had. He was well aware of how she felt about humans.

      “Please tell Doyle and Violet that I’m sorry,” she said softly.

      Her mother hesitated, as if she wanted to say more, but then she sighed again and left Scarlett alone in the bathroom.

      Scarlett released a breath and thanked the goddess that she hadn’t had to explain to her mother how she’d ruined her bridesmaid’s dress. She loved Ma, but no matter how old Scarlett was, Ma could still make her feel like a disobedient child.

      She thought about retracing her steps to look for her earring, but decided against it. She didn’t want anyone to see her in such a disheveled state. And she’d had more than enough of the human realm for one day.

      Not to mention she’d probably lost it during the fight, and Agent Derrington might still be hanging around his crime scene. The thought of seeing him again made her belly do a weird little flip.

      She told herself that her stomach was reacting to her lie about eating bad oysters, and put him from her mind as she gratefully blinked home to the faerie realm.

      But later that night, as she tossed in restless sleep, a hard bodied fighter with smooth, brown skin and a dimpled smile watched her from the shadows in her dreams.

      Chapter 2

      Scarlett yawned as she rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Bradan, the brownie who shared her cottage, had already put on the tea kettle.

      “Mmm,” she sighed as she took the first sweet, scalding sip.

      Even though brownies tended to stay out of sight and shunned compliments, Scarlett knew that Bradan secretly enjoyed it when she acknowledged his efforts.

      Her lips twitched as she replaced the lid that he’d left off the honey jar. Anyone who didn’t live with a brownie might think it was carelessness. But it was really a silent message that she needed to stop by the local apiary for a refill.

      As a rule, Brownies refused to take payment for their housework. But they loved honey and became miffed if the owner of their house allowed the supply to dwindle.

      She cradled her steaming mug in her hands and carried it to the open back door. Leaning against the frame, she surveyed her wildflower garden.

      The air smelled of fresh rain, loamy soil, and green, growing things. The blue-eyed-grass and golden-samphire were blooming, a sea of purple and yellow creating a tranquil setting for her first workout of the day.

      She rolled her neck and shoulders to loosen the muscles, then drained her cup and jogged through the misty morning drizzle until she was beneath the cover of her workout area. She stretched and gave her rack of weapons a cursory glance before opting to practice her hand fighting. She obviously needed it since she’d almost allowed a human to best her last night.

      Agent Derrington’s image flashed through her mind. Skin as smooth and rich as caramel softened the rugged planes of his face. Deep mahogany eyes pierced her with their intelligence. But there had been something gentle about them as well. Something that calmed her and stirred her pulse at the same time.

      She shook off the thought and dropped into a stance, beginning a set of alternating punches and kicks and trying to lose herself in the rhythm. She’d been training every day since she was seventeen years old. It gave her confidence and strength knowing that she could fight her way out of any situation.

      Her people, the sidhe, were immortal warriors who traditionally began sword practice at age eighteen. But she’d started a year early. Pat had been training for the Seelie Police Academy, and she’d begged him to teach her the sword, as well as the other martial arts styles he was learning.

      All of the hours they’d spent training together had set the village rumors about them flying. But they’d never been romantically interested in one another. It was just that being with him, and learning how to defend herself, had been the only things that made her feel safe after the rape.

      She fumbled a kick and nearly lost her footing.

      She cursed under her breath, hating her mistake, and hating even more the memories that came to the surface whenever she spent time in the human realm.

      They were like poison lurking in the darkest corners of her psyche. Sometimes she flushed them out of her system for a while, but they always came seeping back to torment her.

      The thought of the rape itself made her want to squeeze her thighs together and never let anyone touch her between them again. But just as bad was the humiliation. The self recrimination over putting herself in a situation where it could happen in the first place. And the helpless shame that she hadn’t fought harder and gotten away from the men before they could debase her like that.