Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Adkins, Heather Marie

  http://www.danirene.com

  Stolen by Darkness

  Samantha Britt

  The Dark Fae Trilogy

  Book One

  Stolen by Darkness © 2019 Samantha Britt

  Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Created with Vellum

  Stolen by Darkness

  What do you do when your kidnapped by Fae and told you’re their only hope of survival?

  Serafina Richards can see pixies, trolls, and Fae, but she’s not crazy. The creatures walk among us, and only a few are gifted with the Sight to see them.

  Off to college with her best friend, Sera can’t wait to embark on new adventures, eager to follow her dreams of becoming a nurse. Unfortunately, Fate has other plans.

  Stolen away by Fae sentries, Sera is forced to compete with 23 other human women in a competition full of untold danger and high-risk tasks. The prize? The chance to return back to Earth and live a normal life.

  But dangerous forests, life-threatening obstacles, and soul-sucking monsters are the least of Sera’s worries. The Seelie Prince and Unseelie King have taken an interest in her, and it’s marked her as enemy number one to her fellow contestants.

  Will Sera be able to finish the contest? Or will she be stuck in the Fae Realm forever?

  Find out in Stolen by Darkness, The Dark Fae Trilogy Book One.

  1

  Ever since I can remember, I’ve seen monsters. They’ve been constant companions these past nineteen years.

  Well… I’m not sure companion is the right word.

  I think I was four the first time I spotted strange and unusual creatures standing out in a crowd of average, everyday people. Some resembled monsters from childhood nightmares. Sharp teeth and jagged claws looked ready to tear my fragile flesh. Their dry, cracked skin covered enormous and intimidating bodies, acting as a suit of armor, protecting the organs underneath. While others appeared as soft and cuddly as my favorite nighttime stuffed rabbit. Mr. Chuckles was warm and gray, and many of the creatures held the same snuggly allure. I’d wanted to reach out and stroke their fuzzy bodies. Sometimes, I even wanted to take them home with me.

  As a young child, I often approached the friendlier looking creatures. Through some unspoken rule I kept close to my chest, I’d never uttered a word of what I could see to anyone. I think I was being selfish. I wanted to keep the plethora of new friends to myself. But no matter how many times I tried to reach out and speak with my unusual companions, I never could. Each and every time I’d draw near, the creatures would vanish into thin air.

  As the years passed, my sightings of the creatures gradually shifted from intriguing to terrifying. I no longer tried to approach any of them, regardless of how cute they appeared. In fact, I went out of my way to avoid the fantastical beings all together, trying to ignore the nagging fear that something might be wrong with my mind.

  I’d heard about people hallucinating on television shows, and those people almost always ended up in an insane asylum. I wanted to escape that fate at all cost.

  Thankfully, avoiding the monsters had been easy.

  The creatures showed no interest in speaking to me. They’d always been content to go about their business with hardly any interaction with me, or any human for that matter.

  Like now, for instance, a pair of bright blue girls with stark orange hair are seated in the front row of the lecture hall. I’d spotted them on the first day of class, but neither so much as spared me a glance.

  None of my fellow classmates noticed the girls’ unusual appearances. No one ever does.

  I watch the two blue girls play the role of diligent students perfectly, scribbling notes at a rapid pace as our professor speaks.

  Which reminds me, I should be doing the same.

  I tear my attention off the creatures and try to focus, but it’s hard. The lecture hall is warm and musty. Excess body heat emanates from the jocks in the middle rows, stifling my breathing. I long to run out of the building and seek fresh air, but Professor Cohn continues to lecture. Biology is my toughest course, and I can’t afford to miss a single class. Everyone knows Professor Cohn’s tests come straight from his lectures, and I need all the help I can get.

  Resigned to suffer through the next half-hour of class, I breathe through my mouth to avoid smelling the musky aroma. Not for the first time this year, I regret signing up for the afternoon class.

  Enrolling in my second year of college, I’d wanted the chance to sleep in every day. My 8 a.m. chemistry class had been brutal freshman year. I’d thought I’d been so lucky when I got my schedule and realized I didn’t have class before ten o’clock in the morning this semester. But now, after a solid month into the academic year, I’d rather wake up early than share a lecture hall with the football team immediately after their midday workout.

  Seriously, do they not shower?

  I hear a low groan. “Gods above, does this school not know how to turn on the AC?”

  I glance to my left. My best friend, Pascale, is flushed and fanning her heart-shaped face with a spiral full of notes. I don’t remind her we are going to school in New York City and the older buildings weren’t built with the modern convenience in mind. Several window AC units are pulling air into the room, but they aren’t powerful enough to cool the large hall with more than two hundred students.

  “And this B.O.,” she says a little louder, “have any of these guys heard of deodorant or, better yet, a shower?” she asks, seconding my silent thought. The girl sitting in the row in front of us turns around and chuckles. Pascale shoots her a conspiratorial grin.

  I nudge her shoulder. “Shh.”

  “What?”

  “You know what.” I’m in total agreement about the stifling atmosphere, but that doesn’t mean we have to be rude. I’ve experienced enough embarrassing moments in my life. My clumsiness makes me a magnet for humiliation. I would never want to cause the same for anyone else, no matter how smelly they may be.

  Pascale tucks her short, pink hair behind her ear and sniffs. “We pay enough money to this school, the least they can do is invest in working AC units.”

  I roll my eyes and return my attention to Professor Cohn and his discussion about organelles in eukaryotic cells. I write down his comment about mitochondria and their double membrane, doing my best to not misspell the unintuitive words. Science has always been a tricky subject for me, but I am determined to be a nurse. I want to help people, and I need to master natural sciences if I have any hope of achieving that goal.

  Beside me, Pascale huffs and mumbles something about hating biology. Then, she picks up her pencil and starts taking notes. I barely hide my smirk. Of the two of us, I’m the only one who’s ever taken school seriously, but I think I’m a good influence on my friend.

  Pascale and I met on accident when we were fifteen. It was the end of my first day of high school, and I was walking home when I caught Pascale bounding out of the forest bordering the road. Normally, I would’ve avoided contact. I would have tucked my chin to my chest and moved along without saying a word. But the sight of the nearly-transparent wings floating behind Pascale had made me gasp. I’d never seen a creature with wings before, and I’ve never seen
one who looked so… human.

  Pascale’s flesh was only one shade darker than mine, and her height was average for a petite girl. She wasn’t like the enormous or tiny creatures who’d have no chance of blending in with humans. If I hadn’t seen the wings, I never would have pegged her as one of the monsters.

  My binders had hit the pavement, and Pascale’s eyes swung toward me. Somehow, probably because of the wide-eyed shock on my face, she knew I’d seen her wings.

  I remember how quickly Pascale appeared at my side, retracting the shimmering extensions as she moved. As I gaped at her speed, she’d grabbed my elbow and forced me into an alley off the main street.

  Thinking back, I should’ve been terrified.

  The horned man sitting in the movie theatre.

  The green-skinned woman riding her bike.

  The bulky guy with a bulbous nose and sharp, jagged teeth riding my school bus, hence my decision to start walking to school every day...

  They were all fake.

  I’d stopped believing the monsters I saw were real when I was twelve. When I reached the age of fifteen, I was old enough to know some people were crazy, and I’d dejectedly believed I was one of them.

  I’d spent so long trying to write off each sighting as a trick of light or my tired mind messing with me. But in the afternoon, under bright sunlight, I’d known I hadn’t imagined the wings, and I hadn’t imagined her touch.

  That was the day Pascale told me the truth: I’m not crazy or hallucinating on a daily basis. Mystical creatures exist, and I am one of the few humans who can see them.

  Strangely enough, that is the day I became best friends with a pixie. Being able to see creatures that no one else could had hardly made me seem normal when I was growing up. Classmates, and even some teachers, went out of their way to avoid me. But that wasn’t an issue with Pascale.

  Who would have thought that after spending years avoiding the creatures, I’d be living with one, and she’d be my very first, true friend?

  Distracted by the memories, I don’t notice a broad form slink into the lecture hall and sit next to me until a voice whispers close to my ear, “What did I miss?”

  I jump, bumping my knee into the chair’s tablet desk. I pinch my lips together to contain my wince. I glance at the newcomer, recognizing him from our weekly lab session. His name is Andy, and he and I were partner’s during last week’s lab when Pascale decided to drink too much elixir the night before. I’d left her in our darkened apartment to sleep off the hangover.

  “Sorry,” Andy whispers, leaning even closer to me. Instinctively, I lean the other way, but I’m relieved when I don’t smell a sweaty aroma coming off the athlete. Damp hair curls around his temple. He must’ve showered before coming to class, unlike his fellow teammates.

  “It’s fine,” I say as quietly as I can manage, situating myself back in the middle of my chair. “He’s talking about eukaryotic cells.”

  Andy retrieves his laptop and opens a word document full of notes. “Chapter four, right?” He asks a little too loudly. The girl in front of us peers back. Her eyes are full of curiosity as she assesses Andy appreciatively.

  I give him a nod, then force my eyes back to the professor. My pencil tries to slip out of my hand as I write another detail about the cell membrane. I hear Pascale snicker beside me. I want to jab her with my elbow.

  I’m acutely aware of the guy next to me the rest of class. I’d been wary when the lab assistant put us as partners, but Andy had surprised me. He wasn’t a dumb jock like the guys at my high school, and he pulled his weight during the lab activity. He was a better partner than Pascale in terms of work ethic, and he’d definitely been more fun to look at.

  My cheeks heat. That is the last thing I should be thinking about right now.

  But as Andy’s cologne trails over me, I can’t help but think about how he is, definitely, the most attractive guy I’ve interacted with in my classes. Most guys are just coming out of their awkward teen phase, and the other athletes act like total meatheads. Personality and intelligence matter a lot, and Andy seems to have both in spades. His humor and effort during our lab only made him more attractive in my eyes.

  Rustling paper, closing laptops, and squeaking chairs fill the room. It takes me a second to realize Professor Cohn has dismissed the class. I lower the tablet desk to rest against the side of the chair and stand up. Pascale slings her bag over her shoulder, jerking her head to something over my shoulder. I don’t need to guess what, or should I say who, she is gesturing to.

  Andy clears his throat. I turn and have to tilt my head back to meet his eye. At five feet, six inches, I would consider my height average, but I’m dwarfed by Andy’s six and a half feet. He grins down at me in a friendly way. “Have you finished the lab report?”

  “Almost.” I only have the analysis questions to complete.

  Andy tucks his laptop under his arm. “Do you want to meet at the library tonight to compare our data interpretations? One of my upperclassmen buddies gave me some hints on the details the T.A. looks for when grading lab reports.”

  The automatic excuse to get out of meeting Andy fades from my mind. I’ve been busting my ass trying to earn full credit on lab reports. I even went to my T.A.’s office hours for feedback. Nhu Tran hadn’t been unkind, but I simply couldn’t comprehend what I’d lost points on. And it wasn’t a language thing. Nhu grew up in the States, and she spoke English perfectly. Her position as a teaching assistant was part of her graduate school obligations, but she simply isn’t great at communicating with students. She seems painfully shy and reserved, characteristics I can relate to.

  Knowing I need my G.P.A. as high as possible before I apply to nursing school next spring, I force my nerves to take a back seat and say, “I work tonight.”

  Immediately, I regret not proposing a different time to meet. I am not kidding when I say I am killing myself to earn full credit on the reports.

  Thankfully, Andy is undeterred by my short response. “How about tomorrow morning? The lab isn’t due until the afternoon.”

  I nod eagerly. “Tomorrow morning works for me. Meet at the café in the front of the library?”

  His grin broadens. “It’s a date. See you then.” He leaves with a wave. I watch his departure, letting my eyes trail down to admire his backside when I hear Pascale tsk in my ear.

  “Sera, Sera, Sera… holding out on me, I see.”

  I shake my head and put on my backpack, walking out of the aisle without looking back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Please. You didn’t tell me the stud muffin was your partner when I was sick last week.”

  I snort at her claim of being “sick”.

  Pascale ignores the sound. “It seems my little Serafina likes her men tall, blonde and handsome.”

  “I don’t like Andy.”

  “Ah! Lover boy has a name.”

  We walk out of the science building. I breathe in the crisp Fall air, relieved to be out of the stifling lecture hall. I opt not to respond to Pascale’s last comment. Doing so will only encourage her. But my friend is nothing if not persistent.

  “Come on, Sera. I’m your best friend.”

  “You’re my only friend.”

  “Exactly!” She bounces on the balls of her feet as we walk across the street toward the dining hall. We always eat lunch together after biology. Later, I’ll go to my statistic’s class while Pascale will go home and undoubtedly binge on the latest Netflix show before I get home for dinner. What can I say? We are creatures of habit. Pixies, especially, are notoriously rigid with their day-to-day schedules.

  Pascale twirls around and starts to walk backwards so she can look at me as we walk. I marvel at her grace. I would’ve tripped after my first step. “If you can’t tell me what happened between you and the hottie, who can you tell?”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Oh, really? Then why did he call your study session tomorrow a ‘date’?”

&nb
sp; I stare at her without blinking. “That’s just a figure of speech.” But that doesn’t stop my stomach from tightening in an odd, but not painful, way.

  “Please.” Pascale rolls her eyes. “The way that guy was smiling at you tells me it was definitely not a figure of speech. He’s into you.”

  “No, he isn’t,” I tell her firmly. “I happened to mention I haven’t been able to earn a perfect score on a lab report yet, and Andy is being nice by helping me. That’s all.”

  I refuse to let Pascale convince me there is anything other than kindness behind Andy’s offer. I’m not the girl guys have a crush on. Seeing monsters my entire life has made me a little odd. How could it not? And other than Pascale, no one knows what I see. Friends are supposed to share everything with each other, but I will never be able to do that with anyone else, especially not a boyfriend. Not even my Uncle Eric knows about the strange creatures, and I’m as close to the man who raised me as I can possibly be.

  Pascale releases an exasperated sigh, like I’m the one who’s being difficult and pestering her about whether or not a guy is into her. “Fine, be in denial. But I’m right. I know it.”

  Again, I opt not to respond. Pascale is free to believe whatever she wants, as long as she leaves me alone and doesn’t try to force the issue. Knowing my best friend, though, I shouldn’t hold my breath.

  2

  “We need ice, Richards!”

  “On it!” I shout to Roger, the lead bartender on this shift. Grabbing the oak bar, I use my momentum to swing myself under and into the swarm of bodies pressing forward to order a drink. Pushing past the eager customers, I hustle to the back room where the ice machine is located. I work as the backup bartender at a bar called The Dark Horse, located two blocks from main campus—a gig I snagged because I know the owner.