Crown of Fire (The Forbidden Fae Book 1) Read online

  Crown of Fire

  The Forbidden Fae Book 1

  Linsey Hall

  Contents

  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

  Thank You!

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  About Linsey

  Copyright

  For Mellow, the most amazing cat.

  1

  The back of my neck prickled, as if I were being watched.

  That feeling again.

  It wasn’t the first time. Not by a long shot.

  I shivered and ducked deeper into the shadows of the dive bar. The whole place was cast in shades of gray and black—plenty of places to hide. Just how the clientele liked it.

  Which was why I was here.

  My target—a demon who stole the bodies of other supernaturals and wore them as skin suits—was supposed to be here tonight. As a mercenary for the Order of the Magica, it was my job to send him back to the hell from which he’d come.

  It was supposed to be another normal night. Hunt, kill, have a pint.

  But that feeling…

  I scanned the bar, my gaze passing over the usual rabble of demons and other dark magic users. Mages, shifters, witches, and even a few vamps.

  When my gaze snagged on the figure tucked into the shadows of a recessed doorway, I gasped.

  He was not the normal clientele.

  I could only catch half his face and one shoulder looming in the darkness, but the sight took my breath away. The man had to be well over six feet, with broad shoulders that filled the doorway. He would be impossibly handsome if he weren’t so damned terrifying. His posture screamed lethal grace, while his ice blue eyes just screamed lethal.

  And they were riveted right to me.

  He didn’t so much as blink.

  Death.

  My heart thundered, and my flight or fight instincts jumped into full gear.

  Flight.

  I had to run.

  My mind buzzed with the certainty that the only way I’d survive was if I got the hell out of there.

  No.

  Not a chance in hell.

  I was overreacting. I’d run far enough. I was safe here. Safe from my past. Safe from the one who hunted me. The town of Magic’s Bend was a good hiding place, and I had a job to do.

  Just because the deadly, handsome man was staring at me didn’t mean anything.

  Unease tightened my skin.

  That kind of attitude wasn’t going to keep me alive. My brother, Connor, and I had survived precisely because I saw everything as a threat and acted accordingly.

  Movement to the left caught my eye.

  The skin suit demon.

  He was tall and slender, with narrow horns pointed toward the sky. Yellow eyes bisected by a snake’s pupil scanned the crowd, looking for his next victim.

  The sight snapped me back to the present, away from the man who continued to stare at me. If I didn’t act now, another supernatural would die tonight. And it would be on me.

  No way I could live with that.

  I lunged from the shadows, going straight for the demon. His snake-like gaze snared on me, and his eyes widened.

  He saw what I was.

  Death.

  He spun and shoved his way through the crowd. I raced after him, slipping between bodies like the wind, using my unnatural speed and grace to my benefit. It was a legacy from a past that I’d run from, but I’d use it now.

  He headed straight for the back entrance, and I chased him out. Cold wind whipped across my face as I rushed out into the darkness of an abandoned alley.

  A flash of movement caught my eye.

  There.

  The demon had gone left.

  I raced after him, grabbing the back of his shirt and slamming him into the brick wall. The golden glow of an overhead lamp gleamed on his narrow face as I crowded him, shoving him against the rough brick.

  He was a good foot taller than me, strong and wiry.

  But I was stronger. I shoved him harder as his gaze searched my face. He licked his colorless lips, a snakelike tongue darting out like a threat.

  “You’d be pretty to wear.” His gaze dropped to my shoulders and arms. “Strong.”

  “You better believe it.” I pressed my palm against his chest, calling upon the fire within me.

  Much of my natural magic was repressed, but not this.

  I let the flames rise inside me, burning bright. It brought with it pain, but I welcomed it. A memory of my past.

  I used it now, feeding the fire into the demon.

  His gaze widened and he hissed. “What are you doing?”

  “Sending you back to hell.”

  He thrashed, kicking up. I blocked his leg, stomping on his foot as I pushed the flame into his chest. He grabbed for me, his strong hands wrapping around my biceps.

  I winced as his magic cut through me, slicing like knives.

  “You’ll be mine,” he hissed.

  “I am no one’s.”

  I ignored the pain of his magic and forced my own into him. His eyes began to glow red as my fire filled him up inside. His mouth gaped on a silent scream, his fangs glinting in the light.

  “Say hi to the devil for me.” I grinned.

  In a poof of dust, my flame consumed him and he disappeared. Panting, I stepped back and stared at the ashes.

  He wasn’t truly dead—not forever. In a little while, he’d wake up on the other side, back in whatever afterworld he’d come from. There were dozens of afterworlds—hundreds, probably. One for each religion that claimed a heaven or a hell.

  That hell could keep him, as far as I was concerned, but I had no doubt he’d find a way to get back to earth. They always did.

  I bent down and swiped my finger through the ashes, then stood and opened the small golden locket at my throat. I dragged my finger against it, depositing some of the ashes inside.

  I snapped the locket shut.

  It was morbid to record my kills this way, but everyone needed a hobby. And one day, when I most needed it, this locket would become a weapon against the monster who hunted me.

  I turned to face the alley and head home.

  A figure stood in the shadows, just two feet away. He’d moved so quietly that I’d never even heard him. Shock lanced me. I was never caught unaware.

  But he was there—the man who’d stared at me from the shadows.

  He stepped forward, looming over me. Heart pounding, I stumbled back until my shoulders were pressed against the brick wall. He moved with such silent, lethal grace that I barely processed the movement. But suddenly, I was trapped. His strong arms and massive shoulders formed a cage around me, his head bending over mine.

  My heart leapt into my throat and my skin iced. He didn’t touch me, but I could feel his heat like a brand over all my skin. Hot and cold, it chilled me to the bone.

  Up close, he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Impossibly perfect features—sharp cheekbones, full lips, ice blue eyes, and longish dark hair that was perfectly disheveled.

  His gaze searched mine, brow creased and jaw tight. He was looking for something, and I wasn’t sure if he’d found it.

  I was very afraid that he had.

  He leaned closer and tucked his face against my own—not close enough to touch, but
enough that when he inhaled, he probably got a really good whiff of my magic.

  Heat surged through me at the proximity, clashing with the icy fear. His magic swamped me, hitting all five of my senses. He’d tried to suppress his signatures—and he’d done a damned good job—but a supernatural as powerful as he was couldn’t hide all of it.

  And damn, was he powerful. The scent of his magic rolled over me, the smell of a storm at sea. Saltwater, lightning, the ocean.

  His magic sounded similar—the crash of ocean waves. A cold breeze rushed past me, followed by the sense of water brushing against my skin. The bite of salt exploded on my tongue, and his ice blue aura flared.

  My heart thundered. I felt like I was drowning.

  Drowning in fear.

  Drowning in him.

  Hot and cold.

  He moved his head, his hair shifting to reveal his ears.

  They were pointed.

  “You’re Fae,” I whispered, my blood freezing.

  “Like you.” His gaze moved to the side of my head. “But your ears…”

  They no longer pointed, but I wouldn’t explain that I’d used a spell to get rid of them to help me hide my true nature. “Back off.”

  He didn’t. Instead, he bent his neck so that his voice rumbled at my ear, sending a shiver through me. “Your light. Where is it?”

  My light?

  Stark fear sliced through me.

  The fear drove me.

  I wasn’t proud of it, but fear was a pretty good freaking motivator for me.

  I used it, calling upon the fire within me.

  But I didn’t dare touch him. Not like I’d touched the demon.

  This man was far more dangerous than any demon who wanted to wear me as a skin suit. I slammed a fireball against his chest, driving him backward.

  He was so strong, so graceful, that he didn’t even lose his footing. At best, he stepped back a few feet.

  Holy fates.

  I’d never met anyone that much stronger than me before.

  Him.

  It was him—the one I ran from. The one I’d always been running from. I assumed he’d look like a monster. He’d been one in my dreams often enough.

  Except he didn’t, and he’d caught me off guard.

  I reached for the locket at my neck, needing the magic that I’d been building up all these years, for just this moment. I yanked it free and hurled it at him.

  The golden necklace slammed into his chest, exploding in a cloud of whirling black figures. Ghostly remnants of those I’d killed attacked the man, freezing him solid.

  Stone cold focus narrowed my vision, and I drew my bronze ax from the ether. I couldn’t use iron, and bronze had been valuable to my people.

  Some people would have trouble killing a man who couldn’t protect himself.

  Normally, I would too.

  But I’d been preparing my whole life for this. The prophecy that had driven my life made it clear—it was his life, or mine. And if I died, my entire Fae Court went with me.

  There was no way I’d let that happen.

  I raised the ax, not even hesitating, and smashed it down toward his neck. At the last instant, I thought I could see shock flash in his impossibly blue eyes.

  Then my ax landed.

  Magic burst outward from him, slamming me backward. The weapon flew out of my hand, and I sank to the ground, staring up at the omen of death that hovered over me.

  Powerful magic protected him, and nothing I threw at him was going to break through. Though he was still frozen by the magic in my locket, he wouldn’t stay that way for long.

  And when he freed himself, he’d be pissed.

  I scrambled to my feet and slipped to the right, getting away from the wall so he couldn’t corner me again, and darted down the alley.

  I loathed running.

  But I loathed dying more. I couldn’t die.

  My Court needed me.

  I’d already used up my best weapons on him, so I ran, sprinting down the alley. I wished I had the wings that should have been my birthright. Instead, I was on foot. Fast, but on foot. At the end of the alley, I glanced behind me. He stood where I’d left him, staring after me, his icy gaze intense as he fought the pull of the magic that I’d hurled at him.

  It was a one-shot spell, and he couldn’t pursue me.

  Not now.

  But he would.

  Because somehow, he could find me.

  After all these years, the King of the Court of Ice had figured out where I was hiding. He was the bogeyman that had forced me to flee my home in the Court of Fire, and now he was here.

  My fated mate had come to claim me.

  For most, that might mean love. A future. A family.

  For me, it meant death. The prophecy that had steered my life directed his as well. Because his kingdom was dying, and the only way to save it would be to sacrifice me.

  2

  I sprinted all the way home, miles and miles. Cutting across the historic district dotted with old Victorians and the business district filled with sleek high-rises, covering the distance in unnatural time. Magic’s Bend, my home since my brother and I had fled the Court of Fire, wasn’t a small town. Over sixty thousand supernaturals lived in this all-supernatural enclave at the edge of America, on the coast of Oregon.

  Though I didn’t have my wings, I had unnatural Fae speed cultivated over years of training, and I turned onto Factory Row just ten minutes later. My lungs heaved and sweat dotted my brow as I slowed.

  I turned, looking behind me, but didn’t see him.

  I hadn’t expected to.

  My spell should bind him for a little while longer. Anyway, he wasn’t the type to run after his prey.

  He would break past the spell that bound him, then he would stalk me and appear whenever it suited him. A phantom born from a terrible prophecy.

  I shivered and turned back to the street.

  It wasn’t yet midnight, and Factory Row was still hopping. My brother and I had opened Potions & Pastilles—our coffee shop/bar combo—in the neighborhood back when it had been mostly antique shops. A few more bars had moved in during that time, and Factory Row was now one of the more popular hangout spots in town. It was mostly my brother’s baby, but I helped out now and again.

  My heart thundered as I strode down the street, passing by the huge brick factory buildings that had been built over a hundred years ago. The four-story buildings had been renovated into shops and apartments, and all I wanted was to get back to the little section that I called home.

  Not that it could be our home anymore.

  The golden lights of Potions & Pastilles called to me, and pain pinched my chest at the thought of the news I was about to deliver to my brother.

  I pushed through the glass door into the welcoming space. Warm golden wood gleamed beneath the light of the mason jar lamps that hung from the ceiling, and colorful local art decorated the walls. About a dozen patrons sat at the little wooden tables, but I just wished they were gone.

  My brother stood behind the bar, tall and lean. As usual, his dark hair was messy and he wore a band T-shirt with a name I didn’t recognize. His dark eyes caught with mine, and he frowned.

  Something flickered there.

  Recognition, maybe.

  Probably because I looked like the ghost I’d just seen.

  His gaze moved toward the patrons who sat at their tables, and he spoke, his voice carrying over the crowd. “We’re closing up early. Now. All open tabs are on the house.”

  His voice held such command that the place cleared out in seconds. The offer to cover open tabs had to help, but I rarely heard Connor talk like that.

  He strode out from behind the bar and headed toward me. “What happened? I haven't seen this look on your face since…”

  “Since we left home.” Years ago—so long it felt like eternity—we’d fled our home on Dartmoor, in southern England. A prophecy had foretold that a great tragedy would befall our people, the Fire Fae
, and that I was the only one who could save them. But there had been a darker side to it, as well—the king of the Court of Ice would kill me before it could happen.

  So my family had forced me out, forced me to run and hide when I’d been only fifteen. Only Connor had come with me. Before we’d left, the Court had used a spell to remove our wings and the points from our ears. They’d thought we’d be able to hide better without them. But not having wings had been hellish. It was yet another reason to hate the king.

  “He’s come for me. I met him tonight.”

  Connor’s jaw tightened. “It’s time.”

  I nodded, my chest going hollow. “We need to run.”

  For all that I missed my Fae homeland, this place had become home, too. I had a job I loved here. Being a mercenary for the Order of the Magica honed my skills and gave me purpose. Potions & Pastilles had become home for my brother and me. We had friends here.

  No longer.

  We needed to run again.

  “I’ll meet you back here in five,” Connor said.

  I nodded, my throat tight.

  Quickly, he pulled me into his arms, hugging me hard. I gripped him hard and sucked in a breath, then pulled away. “Let’s go.”

  We split up, each heading to our individual apartments on the floors above the shop. I stepped into mine, which was on the second floor.

  I wouldn’t miss this plain, boring space. It didn’t have the color or space that I longed for—the kind that I’d left behind on the windswept hills of Dartmoor—so I’d never even tried.

  I hadn’t wanted to become attached to this place.

  I had, all the same. I’d amassed a collection of instruments that soothed me—all of which I was terrible at playing, though I had a particular fondness for the trumpet. The instruments were a Fae penchant. The trumpet was…not. It was ridiculous and human, but I still liked it.

  I left mine where it lay, though, and charged toward my bedroom. This was where I’d stashed my bug-out bag years ago, and it was the only thing I would take with me. There wasn’t much in it—clothes, weapons, money, transport charms. As I reached up into the closet, my gaze caught on the mirror over the dresser.