Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
He dropped his chin and looked away, out the window. “My biological grandfather was fae. Of the Sapphire Throne, located in the Sea of Stars. One of the gentry—what they call nobility, I’m given to understand. He met my grandmother by chance and took her against her will. My father was the result. He was wild, my father. Human blood greatly and quickly waters down the wildness of fae blood, but even still, he was vicious. Ruthless. He liked to play cruel games with my mom and me. When his amusement ceased, or any time he was drinking and gambling, he’d beat me bloody. Sometimes he’d beat me senseless. It never seemed to bother him. He never showed an ounce of remorse. Not ever. I wanted to know if that was because of his blood or his personality, and so I did a lot of research into the fae. As much as I could. They are all eternal, and immortality has made them cunning creatures. Brutal creatures. They scheme and plot—”
“They sound like the Demigods here.”
“The Demigods of old, yes. Before they created laws and rules to curb some of the worst social infractions. Now Demigods are lambs compared to the fae nobility, and fae royalty is the worst of all. To rise in their hierarchy, they kill. Sometimes the assassination is face to face. Oftentimes, however, it is handled via the shadows, where the knife is hidden until their victim is dying. They’d kill their granny to take her place if the rewards were plentiful enough. And that is with their own kind, whom they respect. Humans are nothing to them. A distraction. Sludge under their boot. ‘Lesser’ doesn’t even begin to describe how little they think of us.”
She’d known some of that and guessed at others. Except for his father. She knew there had been abuse in Zorn’s past, but not the brutal extent of it.
She took a deep breath but swallowed down the pain and sadness she felt on his behalf. The desire to reach out to him. He wasn’t a man who cared about the sympathy of others. He wouldn’t appreciate her gushing or saying she was sorry for what he’d been through. He’d gotten out of there. He’d granted himself his salvation, helped by Kieran. Then he’d seen the same hardness in her. The same trials by fire and the unwillingness to say die. He’d seen it…and he’d reached down for Daisy to help her out of it, as Kieran had helped him. He’d become her solid place in a scary, shifting, dangerous world. Her safety when nothing was safe. He’d taken a hand out, and then offered that hand to another. He was the very best kind of man.
So instead of gushing or anger or the dreaded compassion, she used a flat tone and said, “What’s your point?”
He grunted, his version of barking laughter. “That fae is definitely toying with you, and when he tires of the game, he’ll enslave or kill you.”
A flash of unease wiggled in her belly.
“Then let’s hope the Celestials start doing their job, I guess,” she said evenly.
He ran his hand along his jaw, the sound like rubbing sandpaper. “We’re not going to hope for anything. We’re going to figure out what the right kind of weapons are, and then we’re going to solve your fae problem.”
6
Heat rolled through Daisy, blistering her in the most intense, delicious of ways. She looked around, knowing exactly what she’d find. Half afraid to find it.
Unlike the memory, however, it wasn’t a boy standing close to her, sparkling and shining within his glamor. This time it was a man—or a fae’s equivalent of one. It was the creature who had held a knife to her throat. Who’d teased her and was now toying with her.
Six months had passed since she’d seen him on that ledge. Six months of almost constant dreams about him. Often they weren’t connected to memories. Many times there were no clothes, him kissing down her body and between her thighs. Or sometimes showing her exactly how he liked to be pleasured.
After each one, she woke up feeling hot and languid…and frustrated with herself. Unfulfilled, craving the real touch, the buzz of his proximity, but shamed by how much she wanted it. How much she needed to hate him and not get lost in the memory of his warm hand touching down on her bare flesh.
People shouted within the hallway, necromancers yelling about a spirit that had the power to rip souls from people’s bodies. To kill them with a small sliver of magic. It was the same kind of magic Lexi had, but this one wasn’t on their side. This being, if it got free, would kill them all.
The memory was distorted. The dream dulled the danger. For she was dreaming, she knew that much. He’d stepped into her sleep time, yet again. This time, though, the feeling of his presence was amplified. Delicious.