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Caspian leaned his broad chest forward, his royal blue eyes burning into mine with an intense, dangerous focus. “And these... yoga moms... carry no steel?”
“They carry heavy water bottles and terrifying passive-aggression,” I said flatly. “You will survive without a broadsword. Keep your concealed daggers beneath your shirts. That is my absolute, non-negotiable offer.”
Caspian held my stare for three long heartbeats, evaluating the tactical reality before giving a single, quiet nod. “The broadswords stay in the cart.”
Manem let out a low, guttural curse in the ancient tongue, but following Caspian’s lead, he unbuckled his heavy scabbard and shoved it beneath the moving blanket in the cargo area. Mal quietly slid his weapon beside it.
“Good,” I let out a breath, grabbing my wallet. “Now act natural.”
“Act natural” proved to be an impossible directive.
The moment our five-person squad stepped through the sliding automatic glass doors, the entire entrance area fell into a paralyzed quiet. A teenage employee holding a stack of red shirts dropped them straight onto the floor, and a woman pushing a shopping cart froze in place, her mouth hanging wide open.
It wasn’t because of weapons. It was the sheer physical absurdity of four males built like gods from an ancient war epic walking into a suburban department store. Their freakish height, marble-carved jawlines, and intense, predatory posture screamed danger to every mortal instinct in the room.
“Why are they staring?” Mal whispered low near my ear, his eyes scanning the wide-eyed shoppers. “Do they recognize our house crests?”
“No,” I muttered under my breath, grabbing two massive shopping carts. “They’re staring because you look like an advertisement for trouble. Keep moving.”
Finding mortal clothes that fit four Fae warriors built like brick fortresses was a logistical nightmare. Standard sizes were useless. I had to raid the extra-large and tall racks, grabbing heavy dark denim, fitted henleys, thermal shirts, and canvas work jackets.
“I am not putting my limbs inside this canvas,” Manem spat, holding up a pair of dark grey Levi’s like it was a dead snake. “It offers zero protection against a thrusting blade.”
“It’s denim, Manem, go put it on!” I hissed, shoving a black thermal shirt into his chest and pushing him toward the fitting rooms.
Twenty minutes later, the transformation was complete.
Caspian stepped out of his stall, and my breath caught in my throat. He had stripped away his ash-stained tunic, now wearing dark fitted jeans, a charcoal-grey henley that clung to every ridge of his muscular chest, and a heavy black leather jacket that broadened his shoulders even further. His dark chestnut hair fell messy across his forehead, and his royal blue eyes burned through the fluorescent lights with devastating heat.
“Satisfied, Trouble?” Caspian rasped, his voice a low, gravelly vibration as he stepped into my space, adjusting his leather cuffs.
“It... works,” I rasped, my cheeks flushing hot as I quickly looked away to check on Dax.
Dax was standing near the end of the aisle, admiring his new dark green hoodie, black jeans, and sleek black-and-silver high-top sneakers. He stomped his heel on the linoleum, a brilliant grin on his face. “Tauriel! These shoes are filled with compressed air! It feels like walking on a cloud!”
Before I could answer, a young, well-dressed mortal woman pushing a cart slowed to a complete halt beside him. She looked Dax up and down, her eyes lingering on his sharp jawline, messy dark hair, and brilliant eyes.
She offered him a slow, dazzling smile. “Hi there. Are you... from around here? Because I’m pretty sure I’d remember seeing a guy like you.”
Dax froze. His wolfish grin vanished instantly. His posture snapped into a rigid, terrified wire, his eyes darting frantically from her smile down to her hands, then to her feet.
“Is this a blood spell?!” Dax hissed in a low, panicked whisper, backing away so fast he nearly knocked over a display of bath towels. He raised his hands in a defensive guard, his eyes blown wide with genuine horror. “Tauriel! She is trying to entangle my mind! Look at her trousers—she is a yoga mom! She’s trying to harvest my soul!”
The woman’s smile vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, bewildered concern as she slowly backed her cart away. “Okay... wow. Never mind.”
“Dax, shut up!” I wheezed, biting back a laugh as I grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the registers. “She was hitting on you, you idiot!”
“She was casting a binding hex with her eyes!” Dax insisted frantically, checking his new green hoodie for curses. “Her smile held dark intent!”
Behind us, Caspian let out a low, dark chuckle, while Mal shook his head in utter amusement.
I paid for the clothes with my card, grabbed the bags, and marched the four towering males out of the store before anyone could call the local authorities.
When we stepped back out into the cool night air of the parking lot, the transformation was seamless.
The five of us no longer looked like an invading Fae army. We looked like a group of dark travelers on a late-night road trip up the Pacific coast.
We loaded the bags into the trunk of the Suburban, secured our concealed daggers beneath our new leather jackets, and climbed back inside the heavy vehicle.
