Page 13 of The Fallen Fae King

I was on a mission to seduce, trick, and capture Aurelius’ enemy to force his kingdom into submission.

Lanlin and Aurelius are both pack, despite the idiots not accepting it yet.

Once Freya fell in love…once we knew Lanlin was pack…we abandoned the mission and have been working to save the vampire.

But why would Lanlin believe that?

We intended to tell him the truth tomorrow on the Blood Moon.

Heka tugs harder on my hair, and I hiss as he drags on the diamonds that were woven into my curls carefully earlier by Lanlin, when he didn’t know my true identity and believed happily that this would be our first ball together as his King and Queen at his side, the night before our marriage.

When he believed that I was his Blood Lover, rather than the enemy king who killed his ma in battle.

My mind is racing.

I can’t even use my clever tongue to talk my way out of this.

I take a sharp breath, as Heka slices deeper into my neck, and warm blood trickles down my neck.

My breathing becomes erratic.

I close my eyes.

Shadow Devils, stand with me. Don’t let me fall today. If I do, then let me reunite with my ancestors.

I break off, breathing hard.

My parents’ spirits are safe either in my Rebirth Ring, waiting for me to free them, or they have flown to join the Shadow Gods.

They were good.

But I have too much blood on my hands to join them. I can never atone for my sins. I will burn with the Shadow Devils.

I hiss as the skin of my wrists, mouth, and throat are already burning on the iron.

Goodbye, my Spark.

I wish she could hear me.

Goodbye, my Aurelius.

Goodbye, my Bat King.

“Stop,” a deadly voice commands.

Lanlin.

My eyes snap open.

Heka’s hand jolts in shock, cutting deeper into my throat.

I gurgle, and blood gushes out of the wound.

To my shock, a wolf’s growl echoes through the ballroom, savage and desperate.

“Freya,” I yell, garbled through the gag. My heart leaps in my chest. My soulmate has shifted in battle to protect me, her Alpha. She’s my perfect untamed Omega. I would be celebrating this moment if it didn’t put her in danger. “Don’t, love.”

Freya’s deep, rumbling growl rises to a harsh, jagged cry like it’s being forced through bared fangs.