Charming Marjani Read online

  Charming Marjani

  A Fada Novel

  Rebecca Rivard

  Wild Hearts Press

  Contents

  The Fada Shapeshifter Series

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Adric’s Heart (excerpt)

  Also by Rebecca Rivard

  About the Author

  The Fada Shapeshifter Series

  Discover Rebecca Rivard’s award-selling world of dark shifters and seductive fae…

  *BEST SHIFTER SERIES of 2018 ~ Paranormal Romance Guild’s Reviewer’s Choice Awards*

  The fada.

  Shapeshifters created during Dionysus’s infamous bacchanals from a mix of fae, human and animal genes.

  They’re ruthless, wild, untamed—but when they love, it’s forever.

  The Rock Run River Fada (a clan of river-based shifters)

  Stealing Ula (#0.5—A prequel set in Ireland, Nisio & Ula)

  The Rock Run Trilogy

  Seducing the Sun Fae (#1—Dion & Cleia)

  Claiming Valeria (#2—Rui & Valeria)

  Tempting the Dryad (#3—Tiago & Alesia)

  The Baltimore Earth Fada (a clan of land-based shifters)

  The Darktime Trilogy

  Saving Jace (#4—Jace & Evie)

  Charming Marjani (#5—Marjani & Fane)

  Adric’s Heart (#6—Adric & Rosana)

  Fada Shapeshifter Short Reads

  Lir’s Lady (#3.5—Lir & Isleen)

  Shifter’s Valentine (#3.6—Jenny & Chico)

  Sea Dragon’s Hunger (#4.5—Cassidy & Nic)

  Join Rebecca Rivard’s newsletter to stay informed and be eligible for giveaways and sneak peeks. As a thank you, Rebecca will gift you with “Lir’s Lady,” a steamy short story!

  Sign up at rebeccarivard.com or go to this link: Rebecca’s newsletter

  Prologue

  Marjani jolted awake, hand on the dagger beneath her pillow.

  Someone was hammering on the door at the surface. She waited for Adric to answer it, but her brother must not have come home yet.

  The hammering came again.

  Damn. It might be important. Adric was clan alpha.

  Snatching up the dagger, she threw off the sheet and jogged through the underground den the two of them shared. The amber quartz in the wall sconces glowed on, lighting her way. She took the stairs to the surface two at a time, halting at the thick steel door at the top.

  “Who is it?” When no one answered, she tried again, louder. “Hey! Anyone there?”

  Shifters had excellent hearing. If a fada waited on the other side, they’d hear her, steel door or not.

  She pressed her ear to the cool metal.

  Silence.

  Her neck tightened. She had a feeling that whoever had knocked on the door was bad news. Dagger ready, she disengaged the lock and eased the door open.

  Other than weeds and a scraggly hawthorn tree, the only living thing in the backyard was an oversized rat rooting through a garbage can. She couldn’t even pick up a scent. But a folded slip of paper that had been stuck in the doorjamb fluttered to the ground. Snatching it up, she slammed the door shut and threw the bolt.

  The note was addressed to Adric in their cousin Corban’s distinctive black scrawl. She frowned. Corban wasn’t in Baltimore—was he?

  She waited until she was back downstairs before unfolding the paper. The message was short, cryptic.

  See you in Reykjavik.—CS

  Her heart thumped—hard, uneasy beats. She crumpled the paper in her hand.

  Corban Savonett. Her oldest cousin…and the man who wanted her brother dead.

  For a long time she just stood there, staring into the glowing amber quartz in the living room fireplace. Then she smoothed and refolded the paper, decision made.

  Her internal clock told her it was five a.m. Adric would be home soon, and he’d be hungry. Might as well make breakfast.

  The food was almost ready when she heard him run lightly down the steps. He poked his head into the kitchen. “You’re making breakfast?” He said it as if she’d grown an extra tail.

  “Scrambled eggs and fried ham.” She flipped a thick slice of sizzling meat. “And good morning to you, too.”

  “My favorite.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Thanks, Jani.”

  She leaned her cheek against his. She hadn’t been much of a sister lately. Adric wasn’t this happy because she’d cooked breakfast; it was because she’d done anything at all. This past year, she’d spent whole days as her cougar, curled up on the living room rug and staring into the fireplace.

  She swallowed a pang of guilt. “Make the coffee, okay?”

  “Sure.” While he fixed two large cups with lots of cream, she filled their plates and set them on the battered kitchen table. The den they shared was furnished in early thrift shop. She frowned at her chipped plate. When had that happened?

  Adric dug into the food like he was starving…which he probably was. The man was always forgetting to eat. Like her, he was a cougar fada. Hard, edgy, with black hair bleached blond at the tips, and too handsome for his own good.

  But lately, he’d lost weight. Their clan, the Baltimore Earth Fada, had had a rough summer, and as alpha, too much rested on his shoulders. His normally lean body looked downright thin.

  Not that she should talk. The other day, she’d actually flinched at the sight of herself in the mirror. Was that skinny, big-eyed stranger with the shaved head her?

  No more. She needed her strength.

  She forked up some eggs and gamely chewed.

  In her back pocket, the message seemed strangely heavy, as if it were a rock instead of a slip of paper. She waited until Adric had finished his breakfast before handing it over.

  “This came for you. About an hour ago.”

  “What the fuck?” Adric scowled at the note. “The SOB’s in Iceland?”

  A wolf fada, Corban had tried for years to overthrow Adric and take over as alpha. But he’d crossed a line when he’d shared the secret of the earth fada’s quartz crystals with a night fae. Their cousin was a marked man, sentenced to death by a tribunal of earth fada alphas. But he’d disappeared over six weeks ago, and no one knew where he was.

  “Looks like it.”

  Her brother’s dark brows beetled. “Where did you get this?”

  “Someone banged on the door at the surface. When I went up top, whoever had left it was gone—I couldn’t even pick up their scent.”

  “He wouldn’t come himself. He knows it’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s a dare,” she burst out. “You can’t go. He wants to get you out of Baltimore.”

  Adric fingered the note. “Y
ou really think Corban’s stronger than me?”

  She blew out a breath. “Of course not. But he’s not working alone. We know he’s formed alliances with both the night fae and the ice fae.”

  “So he’s in Iceland,” Adric said. “That explains why the trackers haven’t been able to trace him. The ice fae don’t allow any fada clans that close to home.”

  She nodded. The ice fae and their king, Sindre, were almost as reclusive and territorial as the fada. Marjani had seen one, maybe two, in her entire life.

  She and Adric went back and forth a little more on why Corban had summoned Adric to Reykjavik. But in the end, they just didn’t have enough information.

  “Whoever’s working with him,” Adric said, “I have to go. Corban’s my responsibility. I claimed right of execution before the other alphas.”

  Marjani’s heart clenched. They’d lost their mom and dad during the Darktime, when bloody feuds had split the clan into vicious factions. She’d be damned if she’d lose her brother now, when things were finally getting better.

  Yeah, Adric was stronger, but Corban would fight dirty. What did he have to lose? There was no way in Hades she’d let that prick anywhere near her brother.

  “No,” she said. “I’ll go. The clan needs you here right now.”

  Adric speared his fingers through his spiked-up hair.

  “I’m right,” she said. “You know I am.”

  “Jani…” He trailed off and shook his head.

  “I’ll go,” she repeated. “I’m your second. It’s my job to have your back.”

  He growled. “Absolutely not. You’re too—”

  “Weak,” she finished. He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d slammed a fist into her stomach. She set down her fork and concentrated on breathing.

  “Fuck. I’m sorry, Jani. I don’t really think you’re weak. But—”

  She lifted her chin. “Maybe you’re right. But I need to know, and that’s never going to happen if I stay here in Baltimore. Everyone treats me like I’m made of fucking eggshells.”

  And as Adric knew, she had her own reasons for hating Corban.

  He forked up a last piece of ham. “What about Luc?”

  “What about him?” she asked in a cool voice.

  “I thought maybe you two—”

  “No. We’re friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be. I’ve told him that, straight out, but he thinks he can change my mind.” She gave a hard swallow and stared down at the eggs congealing on her plate. “I’ll probably never mate.”

  “Jani. You don’t mean that.”

  “No?” She shrugged and turned the subject. “You’re the alpha. You’re the one who should find a mate—and not Rosana do Rio.”

  His bronze eyes went flat. “Shut it.”

  But hurt made her keep going. “You think I don’t know you slip off to Grace Harbor hoping you’ll run into her? She’s the Rock Run alpha’s baby sister, asshat. A river fada. You want to start a fucking war?”

  “Shut it, I said.”

  They glared at each other.

  Marjani’s chin jutted. “Only if you shut up about me and Luc.”

  “Deal. But you’re not going to Iceland, got it?” He picked up his coffee cup, realized it was empty, and set it back down.

  “Yeah.” It wasn’t a lie, because she did get that Adric didn’t want her to go.

  That didn’t mean she wasn’t.

  She got up and poured them both more coffee.

  1

  There’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing.

  ~Icelandic saying

  Like hell. Iceland was freaking cold.

  Marjani wrapped her hoodie tightly around her as she slipped out of Keflavik Airport. It was the end of July, for Goddess’s sake. She hadn’t expected the bite in the wind.

  Her cougar did not approve. Back home in Baltimore, the weather had been sunny and humid, and the cat liked the heat.

  Oh, well, she wasn’t here on a pleasure trip.

  Beneath the hoodie, her quartz hummed against her heart. A sheath in her right boot held an iron dagger, and she had an iron switchblade in her front pocket, an iron blade being the most efficient way to kill a fada or a fae. Her left boot held a steel stiletto, and her fishing knife was in a pocket on the leg of her pants. To get through TSA, she’d had to stash her blades in her backpack and check it as luggage, but she didn’t go anywhere without them.

  Reykjavik was thirty miles away. As she got in the bus line, a burly man smelling of alcohol jostled her. Her cat, edgy at being confined for six hours in a plane full of humans, bristled. Her head whipped around, fangs lengthening, eyes flashing a cougar-blue.

  The man squawked and stumbled backward.

  She hurriedly reined in the cat. This was ice fae territory. If they found her sniffing around, she was fucked.

  Worse, Corban might find her before she found him.

  She sent a quick glance around, but all she saw were humans. The nearest ones edged away.

  Marjani hunched deeper into the hoodie. She would not lose control of her animal. Too much depended on this trip.

  The bus for Reykjavik pulled up. She took a seat at the back next to the emergency exit and scanned each face as the bus filled up. Nobody but humans boarded, their salty, iron scent pressing in on her like on the jet.

  The seat beside her remained empty. Word must have been passed that she was an earth fada. No one wanted to sit next to the predator in a woman’s body.

  It was almost noon, local time. The weak sun shone on moss-covered black rocks and scrubby tundra grasses. Houses appeared, colorful concrete boxes topped with corrugated steel roofs. To the north, a white-capped mountain range towered over the rapidly approaching city.

  The bus let her off near the city center. She leaned against the bright blue wall of a coffee shop for a few minutes, making sure no one had followed her from the airport. When she deemed it safe, she grabbed a coffee and an egg sandwich and ate standing at the counter, one eye on the door.

  After that, she walked the streets for several hours, getting the lay of the land and searching for Corban. But if he knew she was in Reykjavik, he wasn’t making himself known.

  Sleep dragged on her eyelids. Except for a short nap on the flight from Baltimore, she’d been up for more than twenty-four hours. She checked into a hostel and curled up on the pristine white sheets, the switchblade beneath her pillow, her right hand on the iron dagger’s smooth ivory handle. She slept lightly in the way of her cat, one ear cocked for danger. But all was quiet.

  When she awoke, it was late afternoon. This time, she donned a wool sweater beneath the hoodie. The iron dagger went into her right boot, the stiletto the left, and the switchblade back into her front pocket.

  Five minutes after she left the hostel, she scented silver. Her breath sucked in, but she forced herself to look casually around. A couple of tall, glittering ice fae males strode toward her, pointy ears poking through their long, white-blond hair. She turned and stared into a shop window, heart pounding, watching their reflections as they passed by. Against her side, she held the switchblade, open and ready.

  But the men only gave her a quick, uninterested glance before continuing into a nearby pub. She released her breath and continued walking.

  Where in Hades was Corban? His animal was a wolf. If he was in Reykjavik, he should have scented her by now.

  Her stomach grumbled. Dinnertime. She fingered the meager amount of krona in her pocket and chose a pub that didn’t look too expensive.

  The décor was cozy, with dark wood and warm lighting. A long bar ran the length of the room, and in the back, a small fire was burning in a stone fireplace. A slim, dark-haired waitress greeted Marjani with a cheerful hallò and showed her to a small corner table.

  Removing her hoodie, Marjani sat with her back to the wall and surveyed the crowd. It was mostly locals, the Nordic rhythms of Icelandic mixing with English, and everyone dressed casually—jeans, T-shirts, cotton sweat
ers, even a flannel shirt or two.

  The waitress recommended a local ale and something called a lamb boat sandwich.

  “Sounds good.” Marjani shut her menu.

  She touched her quartz, which also served as a smartphone, through her sweater. She’d turned the phone off when she boarded the jet and never turned it back on.

  She should probably call Adric, but she’d left him a note. If she contacted him, they’d just argue. And then he’d order her back to Baltimore, because he thought she was too broken to be out on her own.

  She didn’t want to be forced to disobey a direct order from her alpha. Even if he was her brother.

  The lamb boat sandwich turned out to be an upscale sub sandwich—a bun stuffed with slices of fried lamb topped with onions, red cabbage and pickles. She ate slowly, sipping the ale between bites.

  Her skin prickled. She sipped her ale and glanced around.

  A tall, rangy man with shoulder-length blond hair slouched at a nearby table, drinking a beer. He met her eyes, not bothering to hide that he was checking her out.

  Her breath snagged.

  Holy singing crystals, he was beautiful, with slanted cheekbones and sky-blue eyes framed by dark eyelashes. His straight nose had a small bump on the bridge, a tiny imperfection that only heightened his appeal, and his black ribbed sweater stretched across a hard chest.