Fool Me Once: The Secret Societies Collection, #3

By Kat Nichols

Fool Me Once is the first book in the Fool Set. 

Morgan McGowan is counting down the days until she can escape her small town and head to art school to study photography. After all, she's eighteen now and, with an absent father and a neglectful mother, there isn't much reason for her to stay home.

Until two mysterious strangers show up at school. Both men are gorgeous and both seem interested in Morgan, but one of them is hiding an ulterior motive.

Already with a possible stalker, a frightening chain of events may send Morgan over the edge. And all that's before Morgan finds out she's half-fae.

With more questions than answers, Morgan is forced to make some life-changing decisions about her future...and her heart

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kat Nichols
• Release date: Mar 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386603863

Book preview

Fool Me Once

The Secret Societies Collection

Book Three

Book One of the Fool Set

––––––––

By Kat Nichols

Copyright © 2018 by Kat Nichols

All rights reserved worldwide.

No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, distributed, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior express written permission of the author. The only exception is the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement with use of these terms.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design by Cover Shot Creations

Editing by Happily Editing After

Formatted by EK Formatting

––––––––

For more information about this book and the author, please visit. www.katnichols.com or www.facebook.com/katnicholsauthor.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Dedication

To my #bookclub, I’m not sure what I would do without our group text and all of your support. I love you, ladies!

Chapter One

The house was dark when I got home, and my heart fell. Stalking through the first floor, I slammed my purse down on the counter. She couldn’t even make it home today of all days. Flipping on the lights in the kitchen, I dug through the fridge. It was a grilled cheese kind of a night. I threw the butter and cheese on the counter a little harder than necessary, then huffed and leaned my head against the door, tears threatening. I should be used to it, to her disinterest, but somehow it still hurt. Blinking back tears, I headed over to the stove and grabbed my grandmother’s cast iron skillet. My palm burned and I dropped the skillet back on the stove with a clatter. Splotchy, red welts had already appeared on my hand exactly where I held it moments before. My allergic reaction was getting worse. Using a pot holder, I placed the skillet on the stove.

The smell of buttery bread and melting cheese filled the air within minutes. It comforted me, like nothing else could on a day like this. My eighteenth birthday. I grabbed my phone and checked for messages from my mother. Still none. I blew out a breath and went back to my dinner, absentmindedly rubbing at my palm. Chloe would usually spend my birthday with me, knowing my mother wouldn’t, but she was on a big date with her boyfriend Phil. It was their two month anniversary. I snorted. And even though she invited me, I didn’t want to be a third wheel. Especially since this was so important to Phil.

As I stood in front of the stove, my skin prickled. Goosebumps began to race up my arms and the center of my back itched. It was the odd feeling I got when someone was watching me, like a cute boy or maybe a not-so-cute guy. But from where? The tall windows in the kitchen faced the wooded area that practically encircled the house but no one should be back there. I hurried over to them, yanking the curtains shut one by one then stood there, rubbing at my arms and trying to still my racing heart. The smell of burning bread reached my nose, and I spun around. My dinner! Smoke curled above the pan and I moved to grab it, thinking of the pot holder at the very last second. Great, that’s all I need, a burn on top of the allergic reaction.

I flipped the sandwich onto my plate. It was burned, much darker than I would like, but I shrugged that off. Nothing was going as I liked today. Grabbing a bottle of water, I sat at the kitchen island and began to eat. I chewed robotically, my favorite comfort food tasting like cardboard. I swallowed the last bite, the food almost getting caught by the lump in my throat. Defeated, I tossed my dishes in the sink and left the room, turning the light off behind me.

I trudged up the stairs to my bedroom. The sun had already set, but it was still too early for sleep. I peered out the window that faced the backyard, scanning the shadows, but no one was there. Empty yard. Empty house. Empty life. A lone tear rolled down my cheek, and I furiously scrubbed it away. Why was I so upset? I was finally eighteen. Today was the day I’d been looking forward to for years, and in eight months, I’d be the one leaving town and not looking back. I walked away from the window and flopped on my bed, legs dangling off the side. My eyes caught sight of my portfolio case, and a grim smile crossed my face. That was my way out of here. My art. My photographs. I sat up and pulled open my nightstand drawer. It was empty except for two large envelopes, the return addresses listing prestigious Art schools. My tickets to freedom.

****

The Seelie Court Fae

Darkness settled on the town as he made his way around its edges, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Irritation rolled off him in waves as he ghosted through the trees. Any time spent with the Unseelie Court’s representative was too much in his opinion. The man grated at his last nerve and dealing with the witch issue pulled him away from the court for too long. King Oren was none too pleased with the Solitaries for almost starting a war with the witches, and now he’d been tasked to find all those involved and make sure they were returned to the Otherworld to be punished. He blew out a breath as he ran. All he wanted was to go home.

Crickets paused in their chirping as he passed, perhaps sensing his other-worldliness, before continuing their nightly ritual. His feet flew across the leaves so quickly it was as if they didn't touch the ground. Then, he skidded to a stop, one foot in front of the other. Lifting his head, he turned in a circle, as if seeking out his prey. His muscles tensed; his body on full alert.

It cannot be, he muttered. There are no Fae in this area. He closed his eyes and ran through the information he had to double check. He shook his head. Nothing. The courts were not aware of any Fae occupants in this human town. His shoulders fell. He would not make it home tonight after all. There was much information to gather before he could report back.

He opened his eyes to scan his surroundings before following the trail toward a house in a clearing. Large windows, mostly uncovered, faced the woods behind him. Its wooden frame, three stories tall, was still dwarfed by the enormous oak trees surrounding the property. He used those trees as cover while moving closer to the house, keeping watch for any movement within. The nearest neighbor was at least a hundred yards away; the lights glowing from their windows were faint in the distance. He studied the house as if he could sense who lived within its walls and that was when he spotted her.

She stood at the stove, her back to the window. He was drawn to her, stepping closer than was prudent. The light in the kitchen reflected off the highlights in her long, brown hair, sending shivers down his spine. She was part Fae, that he could tell, but how much? For him to sense her from the woods, she had to be a quarter Fae, maybe even half. He’d have to get closer to be sure. At that moment, she spun, moving to a window and he hid behind the nearest tree, peeking around its massive trunk. He stared, unable to look away as she moved from window to window, pulling the curtains shut.

He should have left then, but he stayed as the sun’s setting rays began to grace the skyline, turning blue skies to purple then black. The lights in the kitchen went off, followed shortly by some flickering on upstairs. He gazed at the light, hoping for another glimpse of the girl and his heart surged when she came to the window. She looked sad, lonely, and he furrowed his brow. A tear rolled down her cheek, and he raised his hand as if he could wipe it away for her. She rubbed at it herself before moving out of sight. He stayed a few moments longer, waiting for her to reappear and then, just as suddenly as he stopped, he was gone.

Chapter Two

I spent the next morning at the forest preserve with my camera glued to my face. I used the solitude as my own form of therapy, tying up all my emotions from the night before in a tiny box and tucking it away in the back of my mind. I loved capturing the seasons as they changed, all the reds, oranges, and yellows blending together on nature’s canvas. Looking through the viewfinder calmed me, put everything right again. It placed some distance between me and the object of my gaze, allowing me to focus and letting everything else fall by the wayside. By the time I was on my way home I felt a million times better.

The house was still empty, not that I expected it any other way. A quick weekend trip home to see her daughter on her birthday was apparently too much to ask. I shook my head, not ready to go there again. I moved into the kitchen, grabbing a snack, before heading back to the living room. The couch and loveseat that dominated the room were covered in a hideous floral pattern that clashed with the pastel sponge painting technique my mother applied to the walls. The room was retro, late nineteen-nineties at least and reminded me, painfully, of my absent mother.

Hanging on a hook next to the red brick fireplace was the small, gingham towel I used to handle the iron fireplace tools. Another allergy. My mother knew they bothered me, but she just couldn’t get rid of what she called family heirlooms. She cared more about inanimate objects than her own daughter. I threw a couple logs in the fireplace and lit it before settling down to binge watch some reruns of Xtreme Bachelor. I fell in love with the show during the first season with Travis and Riley and had been hooked ever since, watching reruns when it was on hiatus.

It was toward the end of the third episode when the bachelor was about to hand out the bracelets when I got that feeling again. I jumped off the couch and ran around the room, pulling the curtains shut before leaning against the wall. My heart beat erratically, my breaths shallow, until I shook myself. Peeking through the side of the curtain, I surveyed the backyard. No one was there. Maybe I was acting ridiculous but better safe than sorry. Grabbing my cell phone, I called Chloe. It went right to voicemail. Rather than leave a message, I hung up and sent a text.

Bored. Want to come over and hang out? Or are you too busy with lover boy?

It wasn’t long before I got one in return.

Shut your face. He’s not my lover boy. Not yet, anyway. Yeah, I’ll come over. See you in a few.

Not long after our exchange, I met her at the door, a grin on my face. Two bags of snacks dangled from her raised arms. I come prepared, she called, for a belated birthday celebration. She led the way to the kitchen, after glancing into the living room and shaking her head at what was on the TV. I’ve got cookies, ice cream, frozen pizza, and chips. Which do you want first?

My vision blurred. This was my real family, right here. She finished putting the bags on the table and turned. Well, shit. She didn’t call, did she?

I shook my head, the tears I’d held at bay for so long finally escaping.

Oh, sweetie, she said, pulling me in for a hug. My shoulders shook, and she squeezed me tighter. She’s not worth it, Morgan. Seriously, if she doesn’t realize what a wonderful daughter she has, well, it’s her loss, isn’t it?

We stood there a few moments longer before she pulled back. Okay, so I’m making an executive decision for ice cream. Turning away, she retrieved the bowls and spoons and began spooning up two heaping bowls of chocolate chip mint ice cream, then drizzling chocolate syrup over the top. Let’s go watch some more of your show.

Really? Chloe hated reality television. All reality television

She heaved a sigh. If I have to. Then she grinned, throwing an arm over my shoulder and leading me back into the living room.

We reached the season two finale when I finally caved. It was going to be dark soon, and I still needed to broach my actual motivation for inviting her over. So, it kinda felt like someone was watching me last night and again earlier today. Will you go outside with me and look around back there?

Morgan, she replied, eyes wide. If you see someone watching you from the creepy woods behind your house, you call the cops, not go for a walk in them.

My face flushed. I’m not actually sure... I trailed off and blew out a breath before trying again. I didn’t actually see anyone, I just had a feeling.

Well, in that case. She threw her hands in the air in exasperation. When I didn’t say anything, she added, Wait, you’re serious? I nodded and she huffed. Fine, but grab your cell phone. The best friend rarely fares well in scary movies, and after my date with Phil last night, I am not ready to die just yet.

We opened the back door and crept outside like we were sneaking out after midnight. Except it was still daylight and there was no one home to sneak from anyway. In my right hand, I gripped my cell phone tightly while clinging to Chloe’s with the left. The leaves crunched under our feet as we crossed the massive yard. The scent of burning wood filled the air and smoke from a neighbor’s bonfire curled above the trees in the distance. Shrieks of laughter echoed from where the Henderson’s kids played in the old treehouse set in the woods. It all seemed so normal.

Well, where do you...feel him? she asked, letting go of me and spinning in a circle.

I don’t know. I thought about it. And I never said it was a him, either.

Chloe strode through the yard, kicking up leaves and making a huge racket. I don’t see anything, Morgan. How sure are you of this feeling?

My shoulders slumped. Not sure at all. I took a final glance around the yard. The sun started to set, shadows crossing the sky. Let’s go in.

Now you say something that makes sense, Chloe said with a laugh. I’m getting hungry. Let’s throw the pizza in.

We were at the back door then and I threw one final look over my shoulder. The skeletal branches of the large oak trees suddenly looked ominous as they swayed in the wind and I hurried inside, locking the door behind me.

****

The next week or two contained more of the same, tedious school work followed by brief moments of awareness that someone