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She was a non-magical Chester
Kill Daisy for fighting at all when she wouldn’t take Demigod Kieran’s offer of blood magic, something that would give her speed and strength and quick healing. It would also tether her to him forever.
He was one of about a dozen people she thought of as uncles, brothers, nieces, a mother figure, or a stepdad type. None of them were blood. She’d been abandoned by blood when she was small and then shuffled around the Chester “care” system, the social services for magic-less orphans.
Because of that Demigod, now Lexi’s fiancé, their family unit had grown. First with Kieran’s Six, the guys who’d pledged a blood oath to protect their Demigod, and then Bria and Dylan, Amber and Jerry—their crew.
“It was embarrassing when he sang a Chester’s praises in front of everyone. An angel? Yeah fucking right. He should’ve known better. He got what was coming to him.” He certainly should’ve known better. Mordie was too lovely to see Daisy for what she really was—the devil with razor-tipped heels. Death walking.
“All I know is this guy’s outfit wants the crystal chalice. If they can find the crystal chalice, they can get through the Faegate.”
“The dark fae king… W-well…well…” the man sputtered. “He’s looking to pierce the Faegate or something. To come into the human realm, I mean. To escape the Cerebrals or whatever they are.” “Celestials,” Zorn said not so patiently. “Ce-celestials, yeah.”
“Yoink,” she muttered, grabbing it up. Finders keepers. Last one to steal it wins.
“The Obsidian Throne in the dark fae kingdom. Do you know it? Currently ruled by the wicked king and his miserly queen. Set to be inherited by his rotten, strategizing children, the scourge of the realm. Ignored by the Celestials because of a trade that should’ve never taken place and is now left to run amok. They have ruined that kingdom, and the imbalance is spreading. It is time someone stronger rips the royalty from their perch.”
“This craving… It is almost unbearable,” he murmured. A little louder: “If I take this kiss, I will own it. No one else will taste your lips, or delight in the gratification of your kiss, without being killed for the pleasure. These”—his nose brushed against hers as he cut the distance between their lips in half—“will forever”—her eyes closed—“be mine.”
“You are so fucking beautiful. The pleasure is so sharp that it almost pains me to look upon your face.”
“You are a human, my little treasure,” he went on, “and therefore, you must be a toy. My toy to play with however I like. To do with as I please. In the end, however, I will be forced to break you. It is the hazard of dealing with my kind. It cannot be helped.”
“When you wake,” he said with a devious sparkle in his eyes, “you’ll need to run. They aren’t the sort to let you live. Welcome to the game. It starts now.” “When I—?” All went dark.
