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One
My music played loudly enoughto drown out the sounds of the men fighting outside. The northern wall of my bedroom was covered in wet paint; its newest mural was a gruesome picture of fire, hellhounds, and death.
That was all I saw when I closed my eyes, after all.
Myself, burning.
Priel, my fake fae mate, dying.
All the hounds in this damn world, turning to ash.
And me, at the center of them.
It wasn’t any kind of future-sight, as far as I knew. My brain was just really damn twisted.
There was a knock at my door.
“I’m not hungry,” I snarled at whoever was there.
I felt bad for snarling, but not bad enough to chill. If they came in, they’d see the evidence of my dreams and nightmares all over the walls. Some of them knew that I painted, but most of them didn’t. I didn’t really care whether they knew or not, as long as they didn’t see how messed up my brain was. They’d probably kick me out of the Stronghold, and I was not interested in trying to deal with this messed up world of single fae dudes alone.
The fae had no women, so they wanted us—ex-humans that they’d dragged through a portal from Earth because we were stupid enough to make a wish to escape our world on the one night of the year that the fae dudes could break through.
There was a loud crack, and then my locked door swung open.
I was on my feet in an instant, my eyes burning as I snarled at the person in the doorway.
But it wasn’t someone who would fear my fire.
It was the hellhound who haunted my dreams—and not just the nightmares. If I had one more sex dream about the bastard, I was going to burn my bed. Onpurposethis time.
“Get out,” I roared at him.
“No can do, little flame.” Priel (pronounced ‘preel’) crossed the room, stalking toward me like a damn predator.
I didn’t step back. I knew better than to run from someone who could take me down. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Sorry, love. Got to get some rest.” With that, he grabbed me by the waist, threw me over his shoulder, and took off out the door.
Fucking hell, I was screwed.
He shifted into his bear-like hellhound form as he made his way out of the Stronghold, moving too fast for any of the other women to stop me, even if they’d wanted to.
I doubted that they wanted to, though. We weren’t on great terms. Or good terms. Or even… terms.
Yeah, no.
Those chicks weren’t going to rescue my grumpy, hostile ass.
My fingers dug into Priel’s thick, fiery fur. It looked like it was made entirely out of flames, but the fire didn’t burn me. Honestly it felt kind of nice on my skin.
Not that I’d ever admit it.
“Put me down!” I yelled at the fae guy, as he sprinted into the forest a hell of a lot faster than I’d realized he could move. My clothes—a long-sleeved shirt with a high neckline and long, loose pants, all made out of black fabric—didn’t burn away somehow, so maybe he could control whether his fire was hot or not.
We barreled past about a million other fae guys as we went—many of which turned and started sprinting after us.
The Wild Hunt guys were keeping the other men away from me and the other ex-human ladies by pretending to be somewhere along the mating process with us. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the other fae from challenging them to fights. And more fights. And more damn fights.
