Maybe I really am dying. I’ve heard that when death draws near, your life can flash before your eyes. Is that what I’m experiencing now? A final rush of memories before the end?
I suddenly think of the days before my birth father died. When I was eight, he caught me trying to buy a map from a traveling merchant. Though I tried to explain that I only wanted it as a keepsake, he believed I intended to run away. Enraged, he dragged me home and…
I briefly press my eyes shut, trying to banish the memory of that terrible afternoon and the price my mother paid for defending me.
A week later, he collapsed during dinner.
His face turned purple as he clawed at his throat, unable to breathe. And my mother just sat there, making no move to help, impassively staring at him as though she’d been expecting it.
She met my eyes briefly with a look that told me everything. She’d poisoned him, and he would never hurt us again.
Six months later, she married my stepfather, a gentle, patient man whose kindness helped ease the painful memories of my earlier years.
My guilt deepens. I had a good life in Braemar, yet I didn’t fully appreciate it. Perhaps the gods are punishing me for that. Perhaps that’s why I was taken.
All at once, the weather changes. A cold wind sweeps through the village, and clouds blot out the sun. Moments later, snow begins to fall in soft flurries. I draw in a deep breath, savoring the cool air that fills my lungs. It helps steady me.
Suddenly, a deep, thunderous voice rises above the crowd.
“Twenty pieces of silver!” the deep voice booms.
I gasp and search the crowd for the male who placed the shocking bid.
“Twenty pieces of silver,” the auctioneer calls, “going once, going twice… sold to the highborn fae male at the back of the crowd!”
Sold.
I’ve been sold.
To a highborn fae male.
Then I see him. My new master.
Our eyes lock instantly.
Massively tall, the fae male stands atop a cart, his enormous, black wings spread as though he has just landed. And perhaps he has. Perhaps I was too lost in my thoughts to notice him descending from the sky.
My pulse quickens as I take in his savage beauty.
He has large, pointed ears and thick, black horns that curve back from his head. Broad-shouldered and powerfully built, he wears fitted black leathers that cling to his massive frame, accentuating every sculpted muscle beneath. As the wind blows harder, his long, dark hair streams behind him, giving him a wild, untamed look. He’s not as polished as the other fae males I’ve seen, though he is far from unkempt.
To my dismay, he really is handsome.
But he’s a fae male. A dangerous one.
His wings mark him as highborn. Only highborn fae, those from bloodlines that possess great magic, can summon and vanish wings at will.
Oh, gods. How will I survive such a male?
My panic swirls and deepens, and I feel on the verge of fainting… until his voice abruptly echoes in my head.
Be calm, human female. I am Lord Merak Blackthorne, and I won't hurt you. I will protect you. Always.
Magic, I realize with a jolt. He’s using his fae magic to enter my mind.
I don’t try to respond. I don’t possess any magic, so surely I cannot speak into his mind. And even if I could, I don’t think I would want to. The idea of sharing my mind with my new owner feels deeply unsettling.
His wings flare briefly, and then he’s airborne, flying straight toward the auction platform. Toward me. My heart thunders in my ears.
