The Fairy King’s Kiss: Magic Kisses Series, #2

By Abella Ward

I was very aware of his body. The contours of muscle under my arms. The warmth of him. At that moment, despite my lingering fear, I wanted him.

Nikki has always known she's different. She's a changeling, a fairy child with the ability to 'taste' other people's emotions.

But her life is turned upside down when the mysterious fairy king Finvarra tells Nikki that she's the reincarnation of an ancient war goddess.

And that they're meant to be lovers.

His devilish grin, sculpted muscles and delicious abs sure are tempting enough. But even though that V in his abdomen makes Nikki want to tug down his boxers and see what it points to, the question remains: is Finvarra telling the truth?

When an ancient enemy is determined to get his hands on Nikki, she and Finvarra find themselves face-to-face with the most powerful magic they've ever encountered.

But there's only one person who can reopen the gates to the Otherworld.

Will Nikki have to pay the ultimate sacrifice?

Or will Finvarra raise his flaming sword for her?

This is a 17,000 words short story. It is a standalone book in a series of urban fantasy romance stories. It has an HEA, so no cliffhangers. This is a HOT story with mature themes and language. For 18+ readers only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heartbeat Reads
• Release date: Dec 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386786429

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Copyright © 2018 by Heartbeat Reads - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

The Fairy King's Kiss

An Urban Fantasy Romance

By: Abella Ward

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

About Abella Ward

Books by Abella Ward

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Chapter One

Mom's sadness tasted like lemons. Even from a young age, I couldn't drink lemonade, eat lemon pie, or even look at the color yellow because the taste of it was constantly in my mouth, always stronger when she was having 'bad days' and I had to stay in my room. Out of sight. Out of mind.

I didn't understand what was going on then. All I knew was that Dad didn't want Mom to see me. Depression was 'too adult' for me to know about, though I lived with its effects constantly. Even when the chocolatey taste of her happiness wrapped me in hugs and kisses, there was always an aftertaste of lemon left behind.

It was probably why I decided to go into psychiatry in school. I told Dad it was because of the salary, but I just wanted to be able to help my mother. I never felt like I belonged in my home. Maybe if I was able to give Mom some free therapy, I wouldn't be one more cause for her to have those bad days.

I approached the baby-blue house with knots in my stomach. Home for the summer holidays. My backpack and duffle bag made my arms ache, but I had enjoyed the walk from the bus stop. The familiar sights helped ease the nerves fighting in my stomach.

I sighed as I entered the house. A full blast of lemon coated my tongue. It was bad today. And I knew it was partly because of me. Any change in routine was hard for my mom, and even though she would never admit it, she was relieved when I had gone to university. I guess not being faced with her guilt every day was something that improved her mood.

I'm home, I called vaguely to the depths of the house. I'm just going to take my stuff to my room.

Dad called a muffled reply somewhere from the kitchen, where the smell of spicy spaghetti sauce was almost as powerful as the taste of lemon. I went to my basement bedroom to drop off my bags before I returned upstairs.

I'll set the table, I volunteered after hugging Dad. Are we having garlic bread?

With extra garlic, the way you like it. Dad smiled. His exhaustion was written in the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, etched more deeply than normal. So, did you get that job for the summer?

Which one? I'd applied to about twenty.

The one that you were looking forward to, out in Buffalo.

It was the one that I was least looking forward to. It was also the one farthest from home. I grabbed clean plates from the dishwasher. No, they decided they wanted someone with more experience.

That's too bad.

I've got an internship with the new psychiatric branch at the hospital here. I won't be treating any patients yet, but it's going to look great on my resume. Over three thousand students applied, I added.

Dad never thought much about me going into psychiatry. No matter how much I argued that it was a well-paying profession and was something I was pretty good at already, he never supported my choice. To his credit, though, he tried not to let his negativity show.

And it's paying, I added. Not much, but I'll be able to give you some money for rent and still have enough to pay for tuition in the fall.

Dad grunted as he added gluten-free spaghetti noodles to a pot of boiling water. A paid internship, eh? Well, I hope they're not just looking for a token changeling. You know, with all the affirmative action that's taking place—

"Dad, please. I couldn’t help but snap. As if returning home wasn't hard enough. Do you have any idea how insulting that is to me?"

I loved my parents, but they never failed to remind me that I wasn't 'really' theirs. I was a changeling, something that I would never forget. How could I, when I was the reason there was so much lemon in this house?

Rosemary Goodman was the baby that they had been excited to welcome into