Prince of Never: Curse of Fate and Fae, #1

By Lorelei Johnson and Hailey Jade

Destined to love him. Destined to own him. Destined to destroy him.

 

Only one thing stands between Tarian and his crown: a woman prophesised to be his downfall. He'd expected a formidable enemy, but what he found was a human librarian. One who seems to have a penchant for recklessness and a serious lack of self-preservation. One who poses a serious dilemma.

 

How to take his crown when he can't remove the one thing standing in his way?

 

Imogen has always fought to keep control. Control of herself, control of her life. Because when the world thinks you're crazy, you have to show you aren't. Especially when you're not sure yourself. But when a fae prince takes her to another realm, she's forced to face her biggest fears.

 

Was she right all along or has she finally lost her mind?

 

With a strange bond pulling them together and dangers lurking around every corner, will they find that love is a blessing or a curse?

 

Prince of Never is the captivating first book in the Curse of Fate and Fae series. If you like fated mates, political intrigue, and star-crossed love, then you'll love this seductive fantasy romance by Lorelei Johnson & Hailey Jade.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lorelei Johnson
• Release date: Sep 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9780645837803

Book preview

Chapter 1

Imogen

Inearly died once, at the hands of a monster who paraded around as a man. He appeared from the shadows, on a night much like this one, with nothing but the pale moonlight breaking through the darkness. He lured a young and stupid girl away from her friends with a smile and few kind words. A tale as old as time.

Only this one had fangs.

That’s why I never stayed past dark, never risked the night alone, where creatures could hide in the cold depths of the shadows, as if they were portals to another world, a world of demons and deception, a world where good was swallowed by something sinister and wicked. Nothing good ever came from the dark, merely the illusion of something beautiful.

‘Imogen!’

I snapped out of my thoughts, turning my attention from the rising moon and shimmering shadows as if I was emerging from a fog. ‘Sorry, what were you saying?’

Ivy’s brow creased in concern. She’d obviously been trying to get my attention for a few minutes. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said quickly. ‘I just have a lot on my mind.’ It was my standard response, the one I gave anyone who asked me that question after I zoned out. I’d learnt that’s what they really wanted to hear.

But Ivy wasn’t just anyone. She knew me better than that.

‘You want me to believe you’re thinking about the lecture tomorrow, don’t you?’ she said. She always called me on an evasion. I loved her brilliant purple hair and the cat-eye liner that ringed her blue eyes, but that was the real reason we’d been fast friends. I tended to be drawn to the oddities around me, according to my ex-boyfriend, anyway. The odd ones were the honest ones, in my limited experience, and far less likely to judge my own quirks.

‘Would you?’ I asked. I hadn’t realised it had gotten so late. But preparing for the lecture I’d been asked to do had eaten into my day, consuming the hours like a vacuum.

Ivy made that face she always did when I asked her to pretend I wasn’t spiralling. Sometimes, I wished she’d just play along. By all accounts, I should have gotten over my fear by now. What adult was scared of the dark? But I just couldn’t shake it.

‘Maybe you should let Tim walk you to your car,’ Ivy said.

I looked over her shoulder at Tim, a scrawny man with skin no one had yet told puberty was long since over. I knew he wanted more from me than I was willing to give, and I didn’t want to give him hope where there was none. ‘No, I’ll be alright.’

Ivy raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

‘Okay, look, even if I’m not going to be alright, do you really think Timothy will be much protection?’ I asked, darting my gaze to him as he fumbled with his pen, dropping it to the floor, then scattered a collection of papers in his haste to collect it. If anything happened on our way to my car, I’d end up protecting him.

But nothing was going to happen. I wasn’t going to get attacked because there was nothing out there. That’s what all the doctors and the police kept telling me. There were no monsters out there, just people. The man who’d attacked me at the club twelve years ago had just been a vicious example of one. The strange beauty of him, the pale skin and sharp eyes, the way he’d hunted me through a crowd and known exactly what to say to lure me out, was nothing more than the worst of what humanity had to offer.

Or so they’d told me.

They told me some of what I’d experienced hadn’t been real, that it was a figment of my imagination. Fear made people believe crazy things and I had a history of seeing crazy things. With my medical records, no one believed that I’d felt the stab of fangs in my throat, felt the blood being drained from my veins in greedy pulls. Someone had shouted as I’d lost consciousness, thinking that my life was going to end in that dark alley. But I’d woken up days later to the steady beat of a heart monitor.

It was just an unfortunate incident. Wrong place, wrong time. No fangs involved. I brushed my fingers to the scar on my neck, the one that only I could see. The one that everyone told me wasn’t there, the one I’d told the doctors I couldn’t see so they’d let me go home.

‘... Okay, probably not. But—’ Ivy said with a frown.

‘No buts. I’m a grown arse woman, I can get myself to my own car,’ I said, determination in my voice. She looked like she was going to argue. ‘Look, you’ll never keep up with me in your state, so don’t even try.’

She glared at me then, a hand falling to her belly as it stretched her top. She was due in a couple of months and we were all waiting for her to finally take her maternity leave, but I knew she would hang around until her water broke. Though I hoped not, because that wasn’t a sight I was particularly interested in seeing.

I didn’t have much in the way of maternal instinct. I looked like the kind of woman who should be a mother; the quiet librarian sort was apparently synonymous with motherhood. But given the unstable relationship I had with my own mother, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to mother a tiny human without fucking them up completely.

Better safe than hated by your offspring.

But now I had procrastinated long enough. ‘Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow. Unless you decide to finally go on maternity leave.’

‘So I can stare at my untouched liquor cabinet with longing? Pass,’ she said, drawing a giggle from me. She kissed my cheek before finally letting me go. She didn’t know the full story of my attack; I’d learnt long before I met her to keep that to myself. She knew only what everyone else had believed—that I’d been attacked by a man at a nightclub. But she knew enough to understand my fear.

I pulled my coat tightly around me as I forced one foot in front of the other. It wasn’t a long walk to my car, but at this time of night, the campus was deserted, giving the place an eerie vibe. The shadows seemed to shimmer, dancing just out of reach of the lamps that lit the path before me. I swallowed hard, that tremor in my hand beginning again. I hated feeling this weak. I hated the fear that I couldn’t seem to control.

A clatter sounded behind me, stopping me dead. I turned toward the sound, my eyes scanning the darkness. I gripped my coat tighter, as if it could keep my fear from spilling out of me and becoming real. I forced myself forward once more, my feet moving faster and faster until I reached my car. Only when my palm was pressed against the shining blue door did my fear begin to ease. It was all my own imagination. It was always just my imagination.

I pressed the button on the key and a flash of orange lit up the shadows long enough to illuminate a man standing in the dark. I sucked in a gasp. The light in my car kept him visible, and my eyes followed him as he moved closer.

‘You’ve been a hard one to track down,’ he said, his voice laced with menace. He was tall, fine-featured, with an otherworldly beauty about him that sent my mind back to the night of my attack. You smell incredible, I just need to taste you. Words I’d hoped to forget came rushing back to me. My heart hammered in my chest as I fished in my bag.

‘Stay back!’ I said, my voice shaking. But he only smiled and his hand darted out to grip my arm.

Found it.

My fingers wrapped around the metal canister, and I yanked it from my purse, spraying it into his face. Mace is illegal in Australia, but cheap deodorant does the trick. It was the only reason anyone older than eighteen bought Impulse. He shrieked and jolted back, clawing at his eyes. I didn’t stick around to admire my handiwork, wrenching open the door of my car, throwing myself inside and slamming it shut behind me. I jabbed the lock, and stabbed the key into the ignition with trembling fingers. Hands slammed down on my bonnet as the car roared to life, startling a scream from me. I stared into angry red eyes. Did I have it in me to run him down? He snarled at me, bringing a hand up to reveal unnaturally long, sharp claws.

Yep. I had it in me.

I smashed my foot down on the accelerator, trying to ignore the thud and the scrape of metal as he bounced off my bonnet, tearing out of the carpark with a squeal of tyres. My heart pounded. The surging panic began to shake my whole body as I gripped the steering wheel and something poppy and cheerful beat away on the radio.

What was I supposed to do now? I knew I had to go to the police, to report what happened. But what if I’d killed the man? There was no way in hell I was going back to check. But if I had killed him, it would be far worse to fail to go to the police. They weren’t going to believe me. One look at my file and they’d discount anything I said. I blew out a slow breath and pulled myself together. I was not going to be charged with a hit and run. I had no choice but to head for the police station a few streets away.

‘Let’s run through this again,’ the officer said in a gruff voice as he re-entered the interview room. How many times was I going to have to do this? I’d been stuck in the station for an hour and a half, and a good chunk of that time I’d spent sitting alone in an interrogation room while they waited for me to change my story.

‘I was walking to my car, a man attacked me. He grabbed my arm and I sprayed him in the eyes with—’

‘Yes, that’s fine. But then you said there were marks on your car, like claw marks, which you say must have been made with some kind of blade.’

‘That’s right,’ I said slowly. It wasn’t the truth. They were claw marks made from claws but I wasn’t about to tell him that. The evidence would speak for itself, if he’d only look.

‘Thing is, when I looked at your car, there wasn’t a scratch on it.’

‘What?’ My eyes grew wide. No. No this wasn’t happening again. Not again. Had I imagined the whole thing? Was I really crazy?

‘And I’ve just had an officer check the scene. There was no evidence, no signs of a struggle, no blood, which I would expect to see if you’d hit someone with your car.’

Shit. Shit, this couldn’t be all in my head. It couldn’t. ‘I don’t understand. He was in that car park. Maybe you went to the wrong one?’

The officer let out an exasperated sigh. ‘I suggest, Miss Summers, that you go home. Maybe take tomorrow off work.’

‘But I—’

‘Unless you want to be charged with filing a false police report?’

My head drooped, that familiar sense of disappointment creeping in. ‘No,’ I said meekly.

‘Good, then we’re done here,’ he said, gesturing a hand towards the door.

I stood, my chair scraping across the floor, and shuffled out the door. I hesitated at the entrance of the building, the cool air prickling at my skin, sparking that fear again. Was it really all in my head? Had I imagined the man tonight? Had I imagined the vampire? I’d fought for twelve years to hold onto the truth of that night. What if it wasn’t the truth at all?

I forced myself to step into the dark. God, I hated feeling crazy. I didn’t know what was real. But wine would help ease my frayed nerves.

As I reached my car, I froze. On my bonnet, right where I told the police, long claw marks were gouged into the metal. How could he not have seen it? Was it real? My breath quickened as I reached out with tentative fingers, brushing my skin against the shredded metal. I pulled my hand back as if I’d been shocked. It felt real.

A shiver ran down my spine. I didn’t know what was going on but I knew I didn’t want to be there anymore. I jumped in my car, locking the door behind me, and drove towards home, making every possible effort to keep my eyes on the road and off the claw marks in the bonnet.

Chapter 2

Tarian

Ihated the way she ate. She was always so particular about choosing her next bite; hovering her fork over the plate like she was launching a missile, seeking the perfect target, her lips already pursed against retaliation. She zeroed in on her victim now, skewering a piece of fowl and scrutinising it. Was she going to interrogate it?

Her gaze flickered down the table to me.

‘My goodness, Tarian, anyone would think you were addled, the way you stare so.’

I jolted out of my fascinated, disgusted stupor and picked up my knife. ‘Even if you’ve finally gotten her father to agree to a date, I still don’t understand how you could think I’d go along with it.’

Her mouth stretched in an approximation of a smile, but there was no warmth in it. There never was. ‘What makes you think you have a choice?’

I let the silence stretch like a newly woken cat, picking up my glass and taking a sip, swirling the wine around my mouth. Any protest I made now would only be wasted energy, and this little visit had lasted long enough already.

‘Darling, I always have your best interests at heart,’ she finally said, as if she were speaking to someone who might actually believe those words.

‘For someone who can’t lie, you’ve always played fast with the truth,’ I said, my voice even.

She laughed, throwing back her head like it really was amusing, her fork momentarily forgotten. When she was done with her little show, she sipped her wine and fixed me with eyes that weren’t amused in the slightest. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were against the match.’

‘I am.’

‘That is the wrong attitude.’ She waggled a finger at me and I ground my teeth at the patronising gesture. ‘If you hadn’t proven yourself to be utterly incapable of arranging your own affairs, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You had time to make your own choice.’

‘Hardly,’ I muttered, stabbing at my food with more force than necessary. It wasn’t as if I was running out of time, but if greed had a name, it would belong to my mother. She collected power like a miser collected gold, and she wouldn’t let something as inconsequential as me stand in her way.

‘You should be grateful that I’ve intervened on your behalf. The court has been talking about your reclusive tendencies.’

I inhaled a breath. Let it out. ‘Marrying me off isn’t going to change that.’

The smile fell from her face and she flicked her hand. Servants swarmed in, snatching my plate from under me, while I still sat with my fork suspended like an idiot. I dropped it to the table and folded my arms, trying not to look irritated. It would only make her think she’d won.

‘Darling,’ she said, rolling the word until it almost sounded like a purr, ‘anyone would think your ascension was guaranteed. A political marriage and your presence at court is the least I would expect of you, given your little problem.’

She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and examined her fingernails, which were filed into lethal-looking points. There were plenty of stories told about the queen of the Unseelie Court, many of them false or inflated, but the tale of her gouging out the eyes of a traitor with those fingernails was true. I’d watched her do it.

‘The least you expect of me seems to be a constantly moving measure,’ I replied as the rest of the dishes on the long table were cleared away, leaving nothing between us but polished wood, reflecting the light of the flickering candelabras high above.

‘So bitter.’ She turned her attention from her nails and fixed me with a look. ‘Poor prince, it must be such a terrible life for you, living out of the crown’s coffers, indulging yourself to your heart’s content while you wait to inherit a throne you’ve not had to lift a finger to secure.’ It was a tired old line. Even she seemed bored as she spoke the words.

And I was no longer listening. Arun, my personal guard, had appeared at the door. His usually impenetrable face conveyed enough emotion in the twist of his mouth for me to know whatever he wanted was urgent. I flicked a crumb off my sleeve and stood.

‘You aren’t staying for dessert?’ the queen asked sharply.

‘No. I’m snowed under with indulging myself to my heart’s content this week,’ I replied dryly as she rose from her seat and extended her arms. I went to her, as summoned, like a trained dog.

She took my hands. ‘You think I’m hard on you, but you will thank me one day for building you up to be the king you will become.’

I withdrew my hands. ‘Not today, but you never know, mother. Maybe next week.’

Her mouth turned down slightly, clearly displeased, but she simply perched back on her chair and turned her attention to the dishes of cakes and creams that were being laid before her, acting as though I’d already left. She wouldn’t eat any of the array of desserts she’d ordered from the kitchens, merely pick the sugared bluebells off the tops, dipping in a finger here or there, until every dish was spoiled and none consumed.

I didn’t wait for a goodbye before following Arun out the door.

‘What is it?’ I hissed at him as soon as we were out of range of the queen’s sharp hearing. He shook his head, his gaze darting to the soldiers stationed periodically down the hall. If he was worried about even them overhearing, he must have something worth telling. I ushered him on as anticipation began to build inside me, devouring the flagstone floor with long strides in my eagerness to reach the staircase. It coughed us out on the lower levels of the palace, and from there into the anonymous night.

‘Tell me,’ I urged as soon as we met the cold air outside, leaving behind the sly glances and attentive ears of the fae loyal to my mother, or to whoever else had paid or threatened them enough to feed information elsewhere.

‘Bannock and Wren have been following the latest lead,’ he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

‘And?’

‘It led them into the human realm, where—’

‘Arun, get to the point. What’s the news?’ I cut in.

He slowed his pace to cut a glance at me. ‘We’ve found her.’

I stopped dead in the middle of the path. ‘Are you sure?’

He nodded, his face grave. ‘As sure as we can be.’

‘Because you were sure last time, and you were wrong.’

A pair of will-o-wisps shivered to light ahead of us, waving with excitement at the prospect of having us for victims. A good thing, since it meant they didn’t know who we were.

‘We’ve better information this time,’ Arun said after a pause. ‘This oracle doesn’t hate you. At least, not as much as the last one did.’

I ignored the commentary. ‘A human,’ I said slowly, mulling over what this might mean. ‘Seems unlikely. Is she at Dreadhold now?’

‘Well... no.’

‘Why?’ The word came out sharp as a knife.

A lesser fae would have shrivelled under the weight of my displeasure. Arun remained steady. ‘They couldn’t catch her.’

‘They couldn’t catch a human girl,’ I repeated incredulously.

‘Bannock was injured. He’s recovering now. I decided to report to you before we made a second attempt.’

The will-o-wisps slipped a little closer, waving about in wider arcs as they tried to tempt us off the path. We couldn’t continue this conversation for much longer if we wanted it to stay between the two of us. I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes against the urge to lash out at Arun for the incompetence of his lackeys.

‘Do you want them to try again?’ he pressed.

‘No.’ My eyes snapped open. ‘If they bungled the first attempt, they’re not having a second. I’ll go myself.’

‘Is that wise? The queen—’

‘Will be dealt with if and when it’s necessary.’ I began to walk again, and he followed. The will-o-wisps became more frantic in their attempts to catch our attention, flickering and glowing, throwing off waves of magic that would conjure memories of home and safety, of stories by firesides and warm meals and gentle hands. But I had no such memories, so it was an easy thing to spot the fabrication. They drew a little closer, then let out two little shrieks and winked out, leaving nothing but darkness behind. ‘I’ll trust you to cover up my absence.’

‘Of course.’

As we approached the fringe of the Shadowmire, a silhouette became visible, rising out of a crouch. Four powerful legs braced to pounce as a pair of enormous wings swept into the air, twitching with awareness as light glinted from eyes fixed on us.

‘Easy, Melaie,’ I crooned, approaching the griffin with my hand outstretched while Arun hung back warily.

‘That thing’ll turn on you one day,’ he warned as Melaie nudged at my palm with her smooth, hooked beak.

‘You only say that because you know she’d eat you if I gave her half a chance.’ I ran my fingers through the feathers of her head, rubbing at the spot on her neck that made her close her eyes and lean into me, making a low chirping noise in the back of her throat. Arun had been saying she would turn on me since I’d first found her as a hatchling in a black-market stall, trussed up for spell craft or a goblin stew pot. Griffins inhabited the wild peaks of the Brass Mountains, where they constructed labyrinths of stone and tinder to trap travellers who were too stupid to know better. They liked their meals hot and bleeding. Few tried to domesticate them. No one rode them.

‘I have Wren standing by. I’ll send word for him to meet you on the other side. When will you leave?’ he asked, staying well out of range of Melaie’s wicked beak as I moved to her shoulder and found my hold on the soft leather saddle she wore strapped around the base of her wings.

‘Tonight. I can make the Blackpoint waystation in time, and that should be far enough from the palace to keep from drawing attention.’ I murmured a command and Melaie knelt before me, allowing me to swing up onto her back. She straightened, flexing her talons and stretching her wings in her eagerness to take to the skies. I wrapped my hands in the ruff at the base of her neck, where feathers became sleek fur. ‘Tell as few as you can manage. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve dealt with this.’

‘Fate be with you,’ Arun said, inching away as I tapped my heels lightly against Melaie’s flanks. She crouched low, before leaping into the air, her powerful wings flinging out to catch our weight and haul us above the Shadowmire where a wind current picked us up and sent us soaring high above the Unseelie Court. I watched the sharp spires of the palace recede as we followed the coastline, keeping an ocean slick with starlight to our right and the Shadowmire to our left.

As we flew towards Blackpoint, where the Shadowmire became dense forest, I contemplated what I would find in the human realm. I’d chased plenty of leads that ended in nothing. This surely couldn’t be it. We couldn’t really have found the girl the stars had foretold. If Arun was right, I would finally be able to put an end to a problem that had been tormenting me for decades.

But a human?

I’d expected something more sinister, more formidable. A human would be almost too easy.

But fate was rarely straightforward, and the fact that this girl had already escaped one of Arun’s scouts made me wary. Perhaps she was protected by something that would not be so easy to defeat. I couldn’t afford to rush in without assessing the situation properly. I needed to be sure.

As ancient, quivering oaks started to battle for their place with the Shadowmire, Melaie began to dip low until her wings were almost skimming the foliage every time she beat them down. The waystation was visible as a mound of grassy earth that was neither forest nor mire, and Melaie landed with the grace of a cat, prancing about with the thrill of flight for a few moments before she steadied enough for me to dismount.

‘I’ll be back soon. Don’t eat anyone you shouldn’t,’ I said as I patted her flank, and she tossed her head as though to disagree, before nuzzling me goodbye.

The entrance to the waystation was a dark maw stretching into the ground, lit only by wisps of faelight in the walls. It was enough to guide me down the steps, but only just.

The portal watcher straightened as I entered the chamber at the bottom of the staircase, his beady eyes squinting to make me out from behind his huge, curling tusks.

‘The human realm, watcher,’ I said, approaching the pool behind him, as still as the surface of a mirror, reflecting the stalactites hanging from the cave roof above.

‘Yessir, course sir,’ the watcher mumbled, bending his huge frame in half to reach the pool and dip his stubby fingers in. He swirled the water, sending ripples of light cascading across the surface.

I nodded in thanks and stepped slowly into the water, immediately feeling the portal magic take hold of me, pulling at me like it wanted to carry me in every direction at once. I felt the moment it locked onto the heading. Cold and darkness crashed into me, swallowing me up, scattering my thoughts and my sense of who I was for a few breathless moments, before it spat me out on the other side.

I shook off the feeling of vertigo and stepped out of the portal, little more than a puddle of stagnant water at the base of a staircase at this end. Curling my lip in distaste, I looked around me, seeking out a sign that Arun’s lackey was nearby. I was in a tunnel decorated with coarse drawings and cluttered with litter. The grumble of a car sputtered past overhead, but there was no sign of the scout. Exhaling a sigh, I began to climb the steps into the cursed human realm, ready to take on whatever fate had in store for me.

I would find this girl.

And I would kill her.

Chapter 3

Imogen

Sleep was hard won that night, and plagued with nightmares of fangs and blood. I sighed up at the ceiling for the hundredth time before finally flinging the covers off and padding to the bathroom. I’d long since given up looking at my phone. The officer’s advice had circled around in my head for hours. It was tempting to postpone the lecture and hide away in the safety of my apartment. But if I did that, it would make it harder for me to leave tomorrow. I couldn’t hide away forever.

But today I would make sure I was home before dark.

I opted for a black pencil skirt and a silk blouse, dusting off every inch of fabric to ensure it was clean and tidy. Tan stockings covered my legs, black pumps on my feet. I pulled my blond hair back into a neat bun, using pins and spray to keep every strand in place. I never bothered much with make-up; my skin was a blessing, and I liked to think it was compensation for my mental state, but today I did put on some eyeliner and mascara, just to add a little something extra. As I looked in the mirror, I smoothed out my skirt one last time, scrutinising every inch of my outfit.

I spent the next couple of hours going over my lecture notes, rehearsing even though I knew every word by heart already. Professor Langly was the sort of woman who had so much personality and confidence in herself that she became impossible to say no to. You were swept up in the energy of her before you realised the word yes had come out of your mouth. She’d been my professor as a student, and when the topic of vampires in literature came up in her class this semester, she asked me to guest lecture.

Lecturing was never something I’d had any interest in. Public speaking wasn’t exactly my forte, but here I was, my stomach churning and my mind stuck on a loop of, what the fuck are you doing? Why the hell did you agree to this?

When my alarm began to sing its cheerful tune, I let out a long breath, wishing I could expel all the jittering emotions swirling around in me. I was as ready as I was ever going to be. I only hoped I didn’t completely embarrass myself. I dropped a few flakes of food into the fishbowl, where my goldfish happily swooped to the surface to gobble it up.

‘Wish me luck, Goldy.’

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I flicked the slide on the PowerPoint, looking out at the students gathered and trying