Seelie: Fae Wars, #1

By Sarah J. Pepper

Kian traces his thumb over Ryanne’s bottom lip, waiting impatiently for his Seelie princess to surrender to her blood-lust. Her fervor is nearly untamable, particularly when tempted by his addictive kiss. She’ll do anything for him, but he is just as enslaved by her. However, Ryanne’s blood-lust turns lethal as soon as Niall, the Unseelie Prince, steps into her Court. In Faerie, lies are punishable by death. Murder is justifiable. So when Niall oversteps his bounds, Ryanne has no choice but to unleash the blood-lust that rules her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sarah J. Pepper
• Release date: Sep 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781524203986

Sarah J. Pepper

Sarah J. Pepper specializes in dark, paranormal romance - think "happy ever after" but with a twisted, dark chocolate center. Real-life romance isn't only filled with hugs, kisses, bunnies, and rainbows. True-love can be more thoroughly described in times of darkness and tribulation. It's in those harsh moments where you see what a person is truly capable of - both the good and bad. Sometimes prince-charming isn't always on time, and the glass slipper is a little snug. However, it doesn't mean Charming is not Mr. Right, and who says every shoe is the perfect fit? Get a glimpse inside her head at www.sarahjpepper.com

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Chapter One

Ebony wings spanned Kian’s back, eclipsing Ryanne around him. With pale white skin, and pure black wings, he looked like an angel of death. And he brought death to all who defied his king. Skilled in battle, he moved with one fluent purpose. Kill and destroy. But what made it impossible to look away were the achromatic tattoos decorating his muscular body. The ink was a not-so-subtle reminder of all fae who died by his doing.

They’re devastatingly beautiful, but why do you insist on immortalizing your victories with ink? Ryanne asked as she traced a bead of sweat down Kian’s tatted chest down to his rippling stomach.

"Immortalizing their life is as important as respecting their death." Kian tucked her pure white hair behind her ears.

Pulling at her dark winged fae closer against her body, Ryanne whispered, You’ll be completely covered in ink soon.

In Faerie, two courts ruled—the Seelie and Unseelie. While their kings acted civil, everyone was aware of the strained relationships. Light fae—Seelie—considered themselves more refined than their darker Unseelie counterparts. Recognized for their illusionists and magic mimicking fantasy, Seelie fae were expert at manipulation. But that wasn’t to say the Unseelie were without their under-handed ways. The dark fae were coveted for their extraordinary senses and their trickery spells.

An unspoken war had been underway for centuries. Sacrifices were made. Deaths were inevitable. Thus, much ink had been spilt on Kian’s skin.

He tore his gaze away from hers. "I know."

"Know this. Ryanne placed his hand on her chest so that he could feel it racing. Know my love."

Ryanne couldn’t help but to be in awe of his chivalry. To be the recipient of Kian’s affection felt like a fantasy in itself. Soft-spoken, yet confident and brilliant, Kian could have anyone. But he chose Ryanne—a fae well-known for her total lack of necromantic abilities and combatant skills, even though she was of royal blood. As the king’s most prized warrior and most hunted messenger, Kian was made up of series of ‘life and death’ moments.

He bought her hand up to his lips so close that they brushed against her skin when he spoke. "Your love is more important that life or death, no matter how many secrets you keep from me."

Secrets are a vital part to life and death, Ryanne replied. You are just as familiar with them as me. Secrets are buried deep within your soul, secrets that you didn’t swear to but abide by all the same, Ryanne said just above a whisper. She needed not to examine the ink enshrouding his body. She could see the mysteries hiding behind his weary eyes. Why? Why keep this pain to yourself—share it with me.

Lowering himself onto one elbow, Kian cupped her face. He caressed her soft skin with his rough hand. His right eye—brilliant blue—began to spiral the color of his left. Forest green.

Ryanne trembled under his fingertips. The tremor of his touch was his tell-tale sign he wanted permission to reminisce. His magic was to exchange memories.  He could give his own away or pluck them from another. It was one of the many reasons he was an indispensable messenger for the king.

And a talented consort...

Please, Ryanne said, giving him permission to share.

An image of Kian’s memory flickered into her mind. It showed Ryanne kneeling on a snow drift. The cold wind pushed the fresh powder off the oak tree next to her. Flakes danced in the air. The evening shadows would have easily concealed her since Ryanne’s blond hair was nearly white and her skin lightly sun-kissed.  Conversely, her crimson-colored gown easily revealed her in the winter wonderland.

Lowering her head as if she was humiliated, Ryanne clenched a frost-covered dagger tightly in her trembling hand. A single bead of blood dripped off the blade before soaking into the white snowy blanket under her knees. A fresh gash interrupted the sun-kissed skin of her forearm. A thin line of blood drizzled down her arm and onto the blade, only to stain the snow beside her. An explosion of Kian’s emotions hit her as she watched the memory unfold. Anger erupted in his soul as he scanned the area beneath him, looking for potential threats. His adrenaline pumped through his veins in preparation for battle, to witness his love shed her blood couldn’t have been willingly, could it? When he realized there wasn’t a soul in sight, his heart sank. The sadness was accompanied by confusion of why she’d take a knife to herself.

Her beautiful hair shimmered in the wind that he’d created from flying over head. As quickly as she turned to face him, the gash on her arm healed. The blood stained knife became spotless within a blink of Ryanne’s icy-blue eyes. The crimson blood bleached white under Kian’s feet when he landed beside her. Kian’s frustration trickled into Ryanne’s subconscious, even though he kept his face. After helping Ryanne off her knees, Kian lightly kissed the exact spot where she’d sliced the dagger across, and then the memory faded away.

Ryanne excelled in illusion spells. The ones she worked to hide her bloody deeds were exceptional. Not because it was a difficult to hide a little spilt blood, but because the speed in which all three were completed.  However, she sincerely doubted that Kian knew it was a spell since she kept her necromantic—her spellbinding abilities—a well-kept secret. Moreover, fae heal quickly so it wouldn’t have been unusual to see a superficial wound heal rapidly. Wounds could close up and would often smooth over in hours instead of days. When an injury was more severe, fae sought the aid of a healer—often of demi origin—to fast-track the process.

Kian’s memory proved that Ryanne had her fair share of secrets as well. While most fae healed at an exceptional rate. Ryanne didn’t. In fact, she reconciled slower than any other creature. It took days for a simple gash to heal while it would only take a few minutes for any other fae to heal—a curse from the gods. Working illusion to hide her injuries prolonged her life. If word got out, fae might take the opportunity to use this weakness against her. Since Ryanne’s father was the king, threatening the princess wouldn’t be a smart political move, however challenging Ryanne to a duel to get what they wanted was fair game. She’d be easily defeated because she kept her magical talents a secret.  She was easily wounded, and was the weakest known fae ever to have lived.

Bloodletting isn’t necessary to silence your urges, Kian said, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Even after all these years together, you still prefer it over me.

Bloodletting... Ryanne sighed and wished she’d never laid eyes on the Faerie creature who made the bloody rite a necessity in her life. It was another hang-up—another anathema given from a Faerie creature that had no Seelie magic flowing through his veins. He wasn’t of the light court—Seelie Court—but didn’t exactly belong to the Dark Court either. Nevertheless, she paired with him, which meant he was one of her first partners in bed. And since she paired with him, his preferences became her own. Because magic flowed within every Faerie creatures’ blood made this possible. These preferences brought fae together, and ripped others apart.

The creature whose blood thirst outdrove his urge to silence his sexual hunger, gave Ryanne his very addiction when she paired with him: fervor and blood. She had to spill a single drop of blood, or welcome bliss beneath the bed sheets to silence the urge. Until satisfying the blood-lust by either means, Ryanne would be engulfed in a haze of animalist desire, simulated by the very touch of another. Once satisfied, her urges would fall dormant until sunrise.

I prefer not to be a prisoner in my own skin, Ryanne said and tried not to think about the scars that littered her body because of the countless fights she’d been in and because of the knife she took to her own skin. She didn’t have a death wish. She wasn’t suicidal. She simply craved the comfort of another and hated that her blood-lust urges stole her attention whenever someone got close. I’ll use whatever method I must to be free of my urges. 

Kian looked at her like he could read the thoughts running across her eyes so she closed them. He knew she kept secrets from him and vice-versa. His curiosity about this subject had become an obsession. Ryanne never shared how her urges came to be or what happened the night she paired with the creature who’d done this to her. To share this secret with another soul would only amplify her problems, not solve them. Ryanne made her bed, slept in it, and wasn’t about to go crying on anyone’s shoulder because of a bad decision.

Curiosity was a dangerous line to dance around. She couldn’t dismiss his interest. It’d only make it all the more enticing, and she couldn’t lie. To lie in Faerie was punishable by death—but not by a fae. Goblins saw to it that no Faerie creature spoke anything but the truth. It was an agreement made centuries prior, ending the war between the two courts.

His fingertips vibrated against her skin. This time Ryanne shook her head. Welcoming him into her past—to shift through memories—wasn’t going to happen. Implications could be made, but watching the truth unravel in a memory wasn’t something most could argue with, deny, or hide from.

Words can be twisted, Kian said, knowing she buried this particular secret deep.

Wrapping his arms tightly around her, Kian pulled her against the chiseled-muscular-perfection that was his body. Waiting patiently for her defiance to crumble, he lightly traced his lips over hers, beckoning her like a siren. She could almost taste his irrefutable hunger when she finally gave into him. A deep moan escaped his throat as she trembled under his embrace. She gasped when he finally released her of his enslaving kiss. Hitherto, he never demanded that she disclose her secret about the blood-lust urges that ruled her body. Even so, his curiosity burned in his hauntingly exquisite, blue-green eyes.

Who poisoned your heart with animosity, my beloved? Kian whispered so quietly she hardly heard him. Silencing your urges by dirtying a knife with your blood is not a sight my soul can bear any longer.

Opening her eyes, Ryanne turned her head even though she desperately wanted to share. She couldn’t. An agreement, decreed by a goblin, was annexed with her blood-lust secret. So share it would mean she’d have to spill a multitude of hidden secrets, which her life depended on not sharing.

Let me be the method you use to silence your urges then, Kian said, gently turning her face so she couldn’t look away from him. She wanted to hide from her problems but he refused to let her. He demanded Ryanne to confront the distressing subject. When their eyes locked, he welcomed her pain as his own. I know you heal quickly, like we all do, so I understand the appeal of using a blade to silence your urges because it’s fast, but it makes my heart ache.

Ryanne didn’t utter a word about her healing quickly. Since he didn’t know it wasn’t the truth, goblins wouldn’t smell the lie, but she wasn’t about to correct him either. Kian was safe from the goblin’s hunger, and Ryanne would keep him in the dark—everyone in the dark to that secret—unless it was absolutely necessary to reveal.

All fae crave to be caressed, Ryanne. You’re just extremely sensitive to touch. I don’t know what made you this way, but let me be your answer, rather than the bloodletting, Kian said, resting his forehead on hers.

To caress another, to stoke their skin, would awakened magic fae. They fought like lunatics and were swift to draw a blade, but fae were attracted to each other. Just as quickly as they’d challenge each other to a fight, they’d find any reason to touch one another. Pairing with the horrid creature robbed Ryanne of the unconscious attraction. Unless her blood-lust was pacified, she was forced to hold back and shield herself from others.

Your reactions are less severe after we are together, he whispered. Use me instead of the knife.

These urges return daily, Ryanne admitted. You can’t be there for me every morning to silence them.

Kian tried not to grin. Even though their preferences in bed weren’t perfectly matched, their chemistry carried them through to climax... Kian was one of her first partners—one of the first ten so his preferences molded with hers.

You underestimate my drive, he said. His voice thick with the hunger he’d been concealing. He pushed his hips against her to show just how ready he was again. She parted her legs slightly to welcome his appetite, yet he refused to fill her.

Swear you won’t take a blade to your skin to quiet your urges as long as I’m welcome in your bed, Kian said seriously.

A broken vow encouraged goblins to steal the life of the one who ended it. If Ryanne swore and took a knife to her skin, it might as well have been the knife that killed her. He stroked her cheek, encouraging her to agree. She shook her head, as much as she wanted to make that promise, she simply couldn’t.

I plan to be in your life for centuries to come, Ryanne Gallagher, Kian said, using her formal name.

Ryanne turned away from him. He let her this time cocoon herself in her mysterious life. It hurt too much to look into the eyes of her lover and be unable to make an agreement like that. Even though she shut him out, he held onto her. He was there to comfort her, even when she hid from the world.

Kian kissed her, rolled off of her but kept her wrapped in his arms, and then closed his eyes. After the bliss he brought her just a few moments earlier, he deserved some quiet time. While he rested next, Ryanne let her mind wander. She glanced at an undersized ink design on his shoulder, just above his collar bone. She faintly traced the creature’s shape. The demi tattoo always intrigued her, just like they did in real life. There were too many mysteries, too many unknowns, when it came to the demi race that she couldn’t help but to be intrigued by them. Perhaps it was because her father, the Seelie king, enjoyed their company, or it was that she felt drawn to them and their magic. Whatever the reason, the abstruse creatures captivated her. 

What was the demi’s name? Ryanne asked tentatively.

Kian groaned, released her, and then rolled onto his stomach. He fanned his wings to cool himself against the summer’s sun. Demi keep many aliases.

His past was private, he’d made that clear. Reliving every kill wasn’t something he enjoyed, not that she blamed him. The tattoos were a tribute, displayed for all to see but not to be discussed. The sun cast a shimmery blanket over the water. The waves crashed against the shore, interrupting the silence between Kian and Ryanne. What was left unsaid was just as important as the words spoken. His past was just as dark as hers. She sighed. She feared their curiosity about their unspeakable past would be their undoing. Unable to face their past or discuss it, she looked away from her beloved.

Canary-colored rose petals blew in the warm, summer breeze. They danced in sky, complimenting the cerulean sky. Ryanne glanced around the deserted beach that Kian flew her to when she wanted to escape her own skin. It was blanketed with hundreds of the yellow petals. They rolled over the sand only to float on top of the ocean’s surface.

Her cheeks warmed at what she’d instigated. Classified as a spring fae, Ryanne specialized in magic of that season. Since she tried her best to keep her necromancy strengths under wraps, she still struggled to keep her raw emotions from affecting her spells. Often petals would rain down from the sky, or the rose’s scent would accompany the area where she worked her magic. She pressed her lips tightly together, trying to keep her embarrassment from spreading across her face. Just as her magic released the rose elements, her emotions often brought forth the same result. There wasn’t a day Ryanne could recall where Kian hadn’t affected her. Since the first canary petal floated from the sky and kissed his shoulder with its silky touch, he craved to make the sky rain with them. He’d taken it up as a personal challenge to make Ryanne forget herself so she could fall into the bliss he brought her—over and over again.

A side-effect of experiencing raw emotion was working stronger magic, which often explained why fae were quick to fight and even faster to fuck. Their necromancy powers increased. Only the most powerful, spellbinding fae could affect the weather, which Ryanne fell into that category unknown to most of all Faerie, excluding a certain horde of creatures that brought death and destruction to fae. Goblins.

After dusting the silky petals off her skin and out of her hair, Ryanne smoothed out her skirt that had been pulled up by Kian’s eager hands. She then yanked down her blouse so it covered her stomach when she felt Kian’s eyes on her. He grinned like he’d just been caught doing something naughty. Leaning on his elbows, Kian looked like he was calculating the next time he’d be removing her clothing. She tried focusing on anything besides his heterochromia eyes. She ended up focusing on his hands because every other aspect of his body was too delicious to look at.

His finger curled, making small fissures in the sand. Deliberately and slowly, he drew his arm back, drawing lines in the sand. The movement mimicked what she enjoyed doing with her fingernails and his back. Her lips parted as he crawled over to her. He clenched the sand tight in his fist, like it was a euphuism for what he could do to her skin if she wanted...and she did want. Oooh, she wanted him to pleasure her with throbbing, insane passion.

He leaned over her and positioned his hand on the backside of her neck and gently dragged his nails down. Ryanne gasped, hoping for more—but harder and more forceful. But, he didn’t. Instead, he teased her with the possibility of the rough, hard sex she craved. Just when she thought she could convince him for round-two, he stood up and extended his dark wings to their fullest length—overshadowing the sky from her angle. He stood still, allowing Ryanne to enjoy the sight.

You know the effect you have on me, Ryanne said, clenching the sand tight in her fists. And you use it against me.

He grinned but said nothing to indicate that he disagreed. When she was unable to sit still any longer, she started to move closer to him. She hungered for the appetite he promised—craved it. At the moment where she thought he’d give into her, he turned around, toward the forest, and began searching for his pants and crossbow.

Tease, Ryanne said. A moan hinted of her burlesque sexual craving.

He glanced over his shoulder at her and winked. Yet, he didn’t return to her. She knew that the thought of her craving him, and only him consumed his thoughts—just like it consumed her thoughts never to have another fae