Hell on Wheels (Faetal Attraction #1)

Bad Blood

“I don’t need you anymore,” Mina scoffs.

Holding my face in a disinterested mask, I arch a single brow at the witch, who has been my best friend for three years. We’ve struggled for months to connect in the same way we did when we first met, but so many things have conspired against us: life, outside influences, time—even our own team members. I met Mina because of our love for the derby, and now it might be the only thing left we share.

Blue hair shakes as she packs her gear, clearly done with our conversation as well. I don’t have the words to respond to her, and I’m not sure if she actually wants me to. The divide between us has grown so large that I stopped imagining a world where I would ever get my friend back. I’ve been expecting this for a month or two; Mina’s been distant and there were rumblings she might switch teams to climb the ranks in the Silver City Sickos.

Turning on my heel, I open my locker and dump my things into the duffle silently. Skates, socks, pants, shirts… I shove it all in and grab my leather jacket. I can feel her eyes on me as I sling it over my shoulder and head for the door. She probably expects me to fight her or have some sort of emotional breakdown, but after the things Mina has done lately, I refuse to give her the satisfaction.

You did your best, Rogue. You accepted every cut, scrape, and bruise with quiet grace.

“No outburst? I’m surprised, R. I thought you’d at least try to get me to keep propping you up.”

My eyes narrow and I count to ten in my head, letting out a deep breath. I avoided letting this festering wound affect the team for so long, and now it’s all going to come out. The shame of what I allowed to happen when others couldn’t see floods me and I have to dig my nails into my palms to keep from screaming. Mina wants to taste my pain, and if I give it to her, I can’t ever get it back.

Only losers let their enemies see the damage they’ve done.

If only I could turn back the clock and figure out what started this mess, I’d change it and Mina would laugh with me as we head out for a drink after the match. But that’s not possible and there’s far too much blood in the water to go back, especially if she’s defecting to the Sickos. Those bitches are the nastiest, pettiest team in the league, and they’re known for playing dirty to win.

When we first joined the Babe City Bombers, we swore we’d never turn into those psychos, but here we are. It’s amazing what some press coverage and a viral video of her doing a twirl will do to someone. Mina has bought into her fifteen minutes and she’s been slowly turning into a person I don’t know. Out of two practices and one match a week, it’s amazing if I don’t go home to cry myself to sleep at least once.

Just take your stuff and go outside. Rebel will wait for you.

My stepbrother is the closest person to me in the Universe and if I go out there crying, he might just disarticulate Mina piece by piece in the parking lot. The amount of rage he has for how she’s made me feel over the past few months has grown to a level that scares me a little. Only fear of violating our oaths as Guardians has kept him from serving up much deserved revenge on her.

Of course, her magic is much weaker than ours, and the High Council would take that into account.

Our adoptive parents aren’t perfect, but they’d lose the plot if we got exiled, so turn the other cheek it is.

I ignore the continued prodding from behind me as I walk over to the back door of the rink and head outside. As predicted, Rebel is waiting for me, his ass propped against the hood of his black Shelby GT500. His brow creases as he takes me in, and before I can open my mouth, he’s stalking to the door with murder in his eyes.

“Reb, stop! It won’t solve anything!” I call, running my hand over my face.

He wheels around, the iridescent flecks in his eyes giving away the Fae in him. “I’m tired of watching you suffer because your ex-friend decided she’s an influencer. She’s a one hit wonder with her head shoved up her ass so far she’s kissing it. What she needs is a fucking reality check, Skates.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. He’s not wrong, and that makes it hard to hold him back. I can’t say I’d hate seeing him bring her to knees and if anyone could do it, Reb’s best suited to do so. There’s absolutely nothing Mina can say that would bother him—her powers are useless against his. No coercion or manipulation she could conjure would even touch him.

I’ve been avoiding taking care of it myself because of the impact it would have on the team, but now that’s she’s fucking off…

Reb smirks as he tiles his head. “Are you finally considering telling her to get fucked, little sis?”

“ Do not call me that. I’m not little, nor am I your sister. Reck was my brother and since they sent him away, I’m stuck with you,” I grouse as I kick rocks across the pavement.

He laughs, winking at me as he walks back to the sweet ass vehicle he plans to race tonight. “If you stop being such a pain in the ass, I might let you drive tonight. Think you can handle that?”

Uh, yes, please, asshole.

The stink of this evening is wearing off as I speed around the curves of the winding hills. Tonight’s race is a longer one, but I don’t mind because when I stepped out into the crowd wearing Rebel’s cheeky grin, a roar of excitement filled the air. We’d both be in the fucking thick of it if the jug-eared bitch whose family runs the club knew it was me behind the wheel, but since she rarely descends from her throne, it’s unlikely she’ll ever catch the scent.

Roadrunner Racing is a front for laundering cash for the Stuhll Mob, and they’re known for being vicious thieves and thugs. The matron of the family is the second wife of the dumbest rhino shifter I’ve ever met, but she more than makes up for his lack of brains with her sociopathic whims. Merra is a tiny fennec Fox shifter, but her thirst for money and power is unrivaled. Rumor has it she swindled her family into the poorhouse before she fell in with Thad, but since no one can actually locate any of them, it stays a whispered threat.

Together, they own half the slums in the city, and the club is just another way for them to clean their extorted protection money. Crossing them isn’t the brightest plan Reb and I have ever come up with, but it may be one of the most dangerous.

Gotta get your kicks somehow, though, right?

Scenery flies by as I shift around the curvy roads, occasionally checking to see if any of the losers have gotten any closer. All I see is an empty road, so I press the button on the dash that connects me to Reb’s open line. He’s staying concealed in the pit area, but when I get closer to the finish, I’ll want to know what the crowd looks like. The last thing I need is some asshole with powers that will automatically see through the Fae glamor if I get out of the car for the peacocking.

“How’s it looking? Any worries?”

A snort echoes in the car as my stepbrother comes online. “No snitches at the moment. I’m eyeing the gates.”

We’re talking in our own code—it’s not like we’re on an encrypted line. Gamblers are a tricky breed no matter what species they are; techno-warlocks have blended science and magic to influence everything from supe races to human sporting events, so caution is prudent. Even if we didn’t get dimed out to the Queen Bitch, neither of us wants to end up being blackmailed. Guardians are only beholden to the Society, and if we get compromised in our private lives, it could spill into our professional pursuits.

That’s the shit that starts wars, and I’d prefer not to go down in history as some fucked up Helen of Troy.

“Good. I’m almost there. Have the champers ready because we’re gonna party tonight.”

His laugh is dark and I can picture him pushing his green hair out of his eyes as he replies. “I’m not pulling a bunch of revved up asswads off your tipsy ass again. You suck at controlling the pheromones when you drink.”

I roll my eyes briefly, trying not to snark back at him. Reb is a full-blooded Unseelie and I’m a half-breed; the other half of my unknown bio parents was a succubus and I have zero frame of reference for learning to control my powers now that I’m an adult. If my actual brother Reck was around, I’d at least have someone to commiserate with, but since the only one around when I emerged was Reb, I’m stuck with his snark.

Being discarded orphans blows goat shifters and no one will ever convince me of anything different.

“You’re being morose again, Rogue. My parents ditched me, too, because they were afraid I’d come out a hybrid. You don’t have a copyright on being left behind,” he grumbles.

I guess that’s true, but his full blood status sure makes our adoptive ‘family’ favor him.

“Reb, until they trade your twin as currency because he’s not worth the effort to feed and clothe, you don’t get to play the ‘poor me’ game with me. Back off.”

There’s a lengthy pause before he answers and when he does, his voice is full of bitterness. “We’ve said too much on an open line. I’ll see you at the checkers.”

Great. I didn’t mean to piss off my only ally. He’ll get plastered at the after party and despite his grand pronouncements, it will be me prying hungry bitches off him before he becomes a baby daddy at 21.

Just fucking fabulous.

Throwing the Shelby into a higher gear, I put the pedal to the floor and fly down the back half of the track. My night is now a thousand times more stressful, and I wanted to lose myself in the heat of the engine to forget my earlier spat with my ex-best friend. I swear to hell, men are the biggest babies on the planet.

My mood continues to darken as I crest the last hill, thoughts of murder and mayhem fogging my brain. By the time I’m cruising down the strip, I’ve worked myself into a lather that can only be contained by copious amounts of alcohol and sex. It’s not the healthiest coping mechanism mentally, sure, but half of my power stems from sexual energy, so I don’t examine it too closely.

Never dwell on shit you can’t control, Rogue.

Reck used to tell me that before they sent him away, and he was always right. Unfortunately, I didn’t listen then, and it’s highly doubtful I will now.

I foresee a bar fight in my future and I can’t say I’m not looking forward to it.

After all, it’s not against the rules to play dirty there.