Pining for the Prince, page 1
PINING FOR THE PRINCE
FANG AND FAE
BOOK ONE
REBECCA COHEN
Pining for the Prince, Fang and Fae Book One © 2024 Rebecca Cohen
First Edition 2024 (Self-Published)
Cover artist: Garrett Leigh at Black Jazz Design
Editor: Sue Meadows
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
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The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.
For Tom and Foo
CONTENTS
Foreword
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
Coming Soon
Also by Rebecca Cohen
About the Author
FOREWORD
Several years ago I had a brain itch about a vampire detective. I dabbled with the idea on and off, and it grew and grew, adding in a paranormal universe built around modern-day London. Throw in a pretty fae prince and Fang and Fae was born. And then I did nothing with it for ages until I got bitten (ho ho!) with a different idea for Paranormal Croftons. The world-building for Dark Earls started first with Fang and Fae but this is a different side of vampire society, Gwil isn’t a noble and he has a different view of the world. I’ve loved playing in a wider universe that feeds two series but can be kept separately or enjoyed together, and I hope you will too.
Please note that I am British, as is Gwil (he’s rubbed off on Hyax as well… er… grammatically speaking), and so are the spellings and grammar used in this book.
Unending thanks to Louise Auty and Toshi Drake, and of course Sue (my long-suffering editor) and Garrett for the amazing covers for this and the rest of the series.
CHAPTER ONE
“To be honest, Gwil, I’m fed up with all this self-righteousness that certain institutions think they have the justification to hold on to anything that’s not bolted down. I just want my father’s pocket watch back. I bought it for him as a present so by rights, as next of kin, I should be able to have it now he is no longer with us. I even have the original receipt.”
Gwil could sympathise, he really could, but most things were never as cut and dried as his clients thought they should be. “Yes, well, you need to understand that you claiming to have bought a watch in 1624 is not going to be the easiest way to demand back lost property.”
Tobias Flume huffed, a false action, as being a vampire and dead for three hundred years meant he didn’t breathe. “It’s a disgrace. And to think I would never have even known it was in there if I hadn’t been invited by one of their own bloody curators to a British Museum After Dark special access tour.”
“You wouldn’t have gone to an afternoon special would you, gets a bit toasty with all that daylight about.” As a fellow vampire, Gwil thought he could get away with being flippant. He was wrong.
“You are missing the point. There I was, minding my own business, enjoying the revamped—excuse the dreadful expression—horology exhibition and I looked in one of the cases and there it was.”
“How can you be sure? It might have been a similar watch, as I mentioned, it was a long time ago.”
“It was monogrammed and set with sapphires to match my eye colour. It was unique.” Tobias leant forwards in his seat, and stared at him, making Gwil squirm a little. “So will you help or not?”
He’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t, if not from Tobias then from one of his many hangers-on or Vampire Council contacts. Gwil’s access to this very fine undead-gentlepersons club could be whisked away if Tobias snapped his manicured fingers. Not to mention, a few bad words scattered through the undead elite and he could kiss goodbye to his cushy cases that needed little to no effort and were as lucrative as fuck. “What do you want me to actually do? Work up some false paper trail, which is a bit more modern so you can petition the museum to have it returned?”
“No, I want you to break in and take it. You and your associate have a solid reputation, I don’t think it would be beyond your capabilities.”
“You want me to rob the British Museum?”
“It’s not stealing when you are returning property to its rightful owners. And it’s one little pocket watch. It’s not like I’m the Greek government asking you to liberate the Elgin Marbles or join the museum’s staff as a curator.”
In theory, it was doable, but it wasn’t the sort of thing they got involved in. He didn’t think Hyax would be too keen, and since it would be his fae abilities they’d be leaning on, it would be a tricky negotiation with his business partner.
“It’s not really our sort of case.” He knew the minute he said the less-than-blanket refusal that it would not be the end of it.
Tobias smirked. “I can make it worth your while. A sizable fee. Or maybe the freehold of new premises, on a powerful ley line and not that weak thing you’re on at the moment.”
That was a real carrot, trying to get on the supernatural property ladder was brutal in London, it wasn’t as if you could wait for someone to die and vacate a spot. He wasn’t a family member of one of the Houses on the Vampire Council, like his sister had managed to marry into, nor was he the bottom of the barrel either, thanks to his sire, but he was not on par with Tobias with his connections as one named sired offspring of the Dark Viscount of Hampstead in the House of Devereaux.
“All right. Send me the details—and I’ll give it some thought and discuss it with my partner. If we think it feasible, I’ll be in touch and we can talk further.”
Tobias’s smile was a little too on the toothy side to be genuine. “I knew you’d see the light.”
“But I do not want this getting out. Or we’ll be swamped by requests. I mean it, this would be a once-in-an-after-lifetime opportunity, never to be repeated. I don’t want some old countess demanding I steal her rubies from the Louvre because they were impounded during the French Revolution.”
“I think you’re missing a lucrative business venture.” Tobias picked up his mobile phone and scowled as, just like every other time, the facial recognition didn’t work, and tapped the screen. “I’ll have my secretary send over the details. Now, how about a spot of dinner and something to drink? I hear they’ve a twenty-five-year-old German on offer, or a forty-five French.”
Gwil wrinkled his nose. “Nothing Italian? Or a younger French?”
Tobias sighed. “You really have the most pedestrian of tastes.”
All things considered, he’d come a long way since he’d been turned in 1843. He’d travelled the world, seen the living fail to destroy themselves more times than he could remember. Of everything he’d expected when he’d become a vampire, bureaucracy and administration had not been high on the list. True, there’d been the super-human strength, an element of the sexy thrall capabilities and the opportunity for a bloody long non-life, but the paperwork it had taken to register his status based on his sire had been horrendous, and the constant interference by multiple vampire sub-councils was a little hard to bear some days. The hierarchical bullshit was maddening, to be officially claimed by his sire had taken decades, and it was a good job he’d bothered, as he couldn’t have applied for his enhanced business permit if he hadn’t. From the stories he’d heard, the forty-year process had been fast and smooth and Gwil suspected he could thank being turned by the highly revered Solivatus as the sole reason for that and not his capabilities or how good he looked in a waistcoat.
Gwil let himself into the back door of the property housing both his business—and his home. The business—and by that he meant his consulting rooms—was on the ground floor and his private living accommodation was upstairs. By human standards, it was high-spec and desirable but compared to some of the places owned by his fellow vampires—who had bee
“Hyax?” he called out, sort of hoping his business partner wasn’t about since it was outside their office hours and Hyax didn’t live here, although he spent more time at Gwil’s than anywhere else in the human realm.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” came a reply from the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for tonight.”
He sighed and trudged into the kitchen, knowing he couldn’t put off talking to Hyax about the conversation with Flume. He wasn’t hungry, the blood had filled him up, but not being hungry had never been a reason for him to not eat chocolate or drink tea, so he grabbed a few squares from his stash of the good stuff, made himself a cup of Darjeeling and headed back downstairs to his office, knowing Hyax’s concept of a minute was longer than even his fellow fae.
Several mouthfuls of chocolate and half a mug of tea later he was in a much better mood and he felt as if he might be able to tackle his to-do list. His caseload was not insubstantial, since he had built a solid reputation, and he was skimming his notes on a missing banshee when Hyax sailed into his office.
If he’d had breath it would have caught when he saw him, and that wasn’t an unusual event. Hyax’s long blond hair had been braided and he was wearing a close-fitting suit that would have made a weaker man whimper. His kohled eyes dazzled and Gwil swallowed thickly. “Turn it down a notch will you?”
“Sorry, Gwil, didn’t realise I was still projecting. If I don’t check when I do my eyeliner I can end up looking like a panda.” The glow receded but it didn’t stop him from being a beautiful bastard. “You called?”
“It can wait if you’ve plans.” Hyax always seemed to have plans, and never with Gwil. Which was a different issue…
“I’ve plenty of time. Besides, I like to keep a man waiting, lets me see a different part of their aura if they get annoyed by it. Much easier to manipulate.”
“Hot date then?”
“Depends on your definition of hot and date, I suppose. Mortal footballer. Great legs, but the jury’s out on whether he can hold a conversation. Now what did you want?”
Hyax perched on his desk and Gwil wished he wouldn’t, nearly fifteen years of pining was beginning to bite, vampire pun not intended. “I had a meeting with Tobias at the club. He’s got a proposition for us.”
Hyax groaned. “Honestly, Gwil, when will you learn that his ilk never has your best interests at heart?”
Probably around the same time he’d admit to being in love with his fae best friend and business partner, which would be never. “He’s sending over a contract with terms and they’ll include a property freehold on a fast ley line.”
Hyax cocked his head to one side. “Oh no. You’ve already said yes, haven’t you? There’s no way you’ll have turned that sort of offer down.”
“I told him I would think about it. But you must be at least a little bit curious about a gig that can offer such a reward.” Only the ley line would have tempted Hyax since the case involved Flume—someone not important enough in vampire society for Hyax or his family to care about appeasing. Hyax had never needed the money, not surprising given his position as prince of one of seven fae tribes, and was, at certain times, picky over what he’d help with.
“It won’t be good whatever it is. I suppose since you’re telling me you’ll be expecting me to get involved otherwise, or your dealings with Flume would have gone unmentioned.”
He wasn’t wrong but Gwil wasn’t going to admit it. “I share all important business conversations, so I resent you’d think I’d keep something from you. Besides, at its heart, it’s a simple property reclaim.”
“If it were simple then the old melon scrote would have asked someone else to do it and wouldn’t be offering what he is. What’s the catch?”
No point in soft-soaping it. “The item he wants returning is in the British Museum.”
Hyax’s eyes flashed gold—he was fucking beautiful when he was angry. He stormed towards the door. “You’re a fucking twat!”
The slam caused the whole room to shake.
Still, it could have gone a lot worse.
CHAPTER TWO
After all these years he shouldn’t be surprised at Gwil’s inability to say no to the likes of Flume. For all their devil-may-care attitudes, vampires were a hierarchical species and if a big bad pointy-fang asked for something, the chances of a lower-down saying no were little to non-existent.
But he couldn’t let his anger with Gwil interfere with his duty. He might only be fourteenth in line to his mother’s crown, but it came with expectations, especially if he wanted the freedom to do as he pleased. He had no desire to be king of his tribe, or marry into one of the other tribes to foster better relations with a friendly faction. As far as he was concerned his eldest brother was welcome to the crown and his siblings were happy enough playing inter-tribe bed-hopping. However, the liaison role was inescapable, but if it kept his mother sweet and stopped her from asking questions about a future spouse he’d do it without argument.
He’d left via a portal to his friend Cikla’s residence in Chelsea where his footballer date was meant to be picking him up any moment. Not that it was being called a date—there was still too much discrimination for him to be an openly gay footballer—but Ian hadn’t wanted to miss an evening with someone who looked like Hyax.
Cikla threaded a red rose into Hyax’s buttonhole. “Do you have enough fairy dust?” she asked.
“Yes, I restocked earlier.” He saw she was pouting. “You’re not still mad that I’m the one going out with Ian tonight? It’s no reflection on you, you know?”
She was a beautiful fae, but not even her stunning copper hair would have persuaded Ian—he was well into no-vagina territory. “I know. And you’re only doing what the Crown is asking. I’d be more annoyed if I had to do it.”
“You’d hate it. I don’t think you’d have the patience to deal with some of the egos I have to contend with.”
“There are perks.” She waggled her eyebrows.
Not the ones she was alluding to. He wasn’t about to fuck the likes of Ian, he was far more selective these days. The doorbell rang. “He’s here. Wish me luck.”
“I’d rather wish you the good fortune that his stamina off the pitch is as good as on it.”
He tutted and left. It wasn’t that he didn’t hook up with anyone, but those he met via these encounters were rarely his type or often bored him senseless. He wasn’t a fledgling anymore, sex for the sake of sex had lost its edge years ago and he’d much rather spend an evening watching bad television with Gwil and a bag of lavender bonbons.
Twenty minutes later, having been chauffeured to an exclusive club and shown to a VIP section and private booth, Hyax was sitting opposite Ian. The champagne was mediocre, as was the company, and Ian wasn’t even that pretty to look at. Sometimes he wondered how the court selected the people who were on the cross-examination list. Ian was a potential link to an escaped convict. Not one of the dangerous types, his charges had been minor, but the fae did not tolerate rule-breakers, so Hyax had been called in to help find them.
Hyax imagined that if Ian hadn’t been born with amazing footballing skills, he’d have been sitting on his own in a pub trying to pull someone with his lame jokes and a personality borrowed from a three-week-old potato.
“I’m surprised you’re allowed to drink,” he said, grimacing at the taste of his wine. He loved a good champagne, pity Ian didn’t know a decent one from mouthwash. “Aren’t you footballer types meant to be super health-conscious?”
“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.” He winked.
Hyax supposed Ian could be attractive to someone, sort of, in the right light and who thought money bought charisma, but there was something about him that made Hyax think Ian had taken a ball to the face a few too many times.
