Queen of Fire

by K. V. Adair

  Queen of Fire

  Her Fae Princes Book 1

  K.V. Adair

  Procyon Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 by KV Adair

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover art by Amalia Chitulesu http://www.amaliach.com/

  Queen of Fire

  Every princess needs her prince, right?

  Well, I’ve got four of them.

  And let me tell you; more is not merrier.

  I’m just an ordinary girl in an ordinary world until my brother reveals our family’s little (big) secret: We’re Fae.

  And not just that—Fae royalty. I traded my Starbucks for a tiara just in time for my welcome home party.

  I didn’t know what to expect going to the Fae realm, but it sure as hell wasn’t them.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter One

  Aidan sat across from me, knee bouncing like a jackrabbit on speed. His gaze darted around the room as if he expected something nefarious to appear.

  Other than two chatty baristas, Starbucks was deserted. Stuck between the morning rush and the lunchtime refuel, it was the perfect time for some bonding, something I’d missed the past week as Aidan had finished his dissertation.

  “So, what’s up?” I asked. “You said it was urgent on the phone.”

  Still avoiding looking at me, he ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair. He had what people referred to as bedhead. You know, that look that took about an hour and a gallon of hair products? Only with him it was natural. Numerous times I’d seen him roll out of bed and walk out the door, not even checking a mirror first.

  He was about as low maintenance as a Honda. Pretty much as reliable, too.

  Shifting in his seat, he glanced behind me at the baristas who were chatting about the new episode of Game of Thrones.

  I wanted to yell spoilers over my shoulder.

  “I have something to tell you,” he said.

  “Okay. Is this a good thing or a bad thing?” I took another sip of my third coffee of the day and scorched my tongue.

  Patience had never been my strong suit.

  He chewed on his bottom lip, and the action drew my eyes. A flash of memory hit me on a visceral level, the feel of his plump flesh between my teeth and the taste of wine on his tongue.

  We’d had one kiss, one time, after a night of me drowning my sorrow in a bottle of wine after being dumped by my first boyfriend.

  I’d never told Aidan his rejection had hurt more than the break-up.

  “Depends,” he finally said.

  “On?”

  “Your reaction.” The tone of his voice was both earnest and anxious.

  “The suspense is killing me,” I replied dryly.

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. The mid-morning sun shining through the window lit him from behind, giving him a sort of halo.

  Aidan was no—figurative—angel, though. He guarded me when I needed it, and sometimes when I didn’t, but it’d been at a high cost.

  “I got a job offer in California. San Francisco, actually.” He reached across the small table and clasped both my hands in his. He looked vulnerable and unsure, which was unlike him. Aidan was confident to the point of being cocky, and he didn’t do vulnerable. “I want you to come with me.”

  The words of course were on my lips, but I didn’t say them. “What about my brother?”

  His shoulders sank, and he pulled his hands away. “That’s what I thought.”

  I folded my arms. “That’s not fair.”

  “I’m going, M,” Aidan said, his voice sharper and less gentle. “With or without you.”

  My stomach clenched. “I’d never ask you to turn down your dream job. And I didn’t say no, I just…”

  He swallowed. “There’s something else, too. Maybe it’ll help you decide.”

  Glass shattered behind him, exploding into jagged pieces toward us. I raised my hands to shield my face before the shards turned me into a horrifying human jigsaw puzzle. I squeezed my eyes shut, too.

  But nothing sliced my hands or any other part of me. I had felt nothing even touch me. How was that possible?

  I lowered my hands and opened my eyes. Aidan had scrambled to his feet and had his back turned. He had shielded me from the blast. A shard of glass was lodged into the side his neck where it met his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  How could he not notice? I stared, mesmerized at the trickles of blood racing down and disappearing under his shirt collar.

  “Stay behind me, M.” His shout brought me back to our dangerous reality. He held out his arm in front of me, trying to shield me from whatever would come through the broken window.

  Nothing did, though.

  Two beefy arms wrapped around me from behind, pinning my arms against my sides. My heart pounded in my throat. Adrenaline and instinct took over.

  I stomped hard on my attacker’s foot, putting as much force behind it as I could, wishing I didn’t have an aversion to stilettos.

  The handsy asshole cursed, his tone laced with pain, and his grip loosened.

  I kicked him in the shin as best I could while slamming my elbows into the opposite to throw him off balance. The force of the blow bent his leg out, making him unsteady on his feet. With a jerk, I forced my way out of his arms. My momentum, coupled with his thrown balance, sent him backward on his ass.

  Score one for me. I’d need to remember to send Aidan a box of chocolate for insisting I take seven years of karate. I trusted my body to respond as I had trained it. He quickly recovered as I hopped on the chair in front of me and then over to a bench. Fingers brushed against my back, but I was out of reach before he could grab me.

  A sudden blast of air shot through me, knocking me off balance and back into the arms of my attacker. I rose on my tiptoes and threw my head back hoping to break his nose but only connecting with a hard chest. The move hurt me more than him. I raised my knee to smash his foot again; it’d worked before.

  “Stop, M. It’s me,” Aidan whispered in my ear.

  “Don’t grab someone in the middle of a fight, dumbass.” I hadn’t realized how winded I sounded.

  Aidan pushed me behind him. His long fingers moved in an odd fashion, like sign language but not. Palpable energy pulsed off him. The feeling tickled something in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t grasp what. It was almost familiar.

  Gusts of powerful wind buffeted against my back, whipping my hair against my face and into my eyes. The blast of air forced me against Aidan. His muscles strained, and his breath quickened.

  I moved my head to see around him at our attacker. Attackers, actually. The unnaturally strong wind—where the hell was it coming from?—pushed against the three men in front of us causing them to take a few steps back. They surged forward as one but didn’t come any closer.

>   Aidan’s hands continued to move. Was it his hand jive holding them back? How was that even possible?

  We were at a standstill, but eventually, one side would break. I feared it would be ours. We needed a plan and quick. I picked a chair up and threw it at the attacker I recognized. It barely phased him as he fell another foot back and struggled against the wind again. Blood trickled from his nose around his mouth, which was formed into a vicious grin.

  I glanced at the window behind us, and without another thought, turned and rushed to it. Unlike the three assholes, I broke through the windstorm. I leaped over the remaining jagged glass, and my feet landed hard on the ground outside.

  There wasn’t even a breeze.

  I ran. Something I was good at, figuratively at least. I’d done it my whole life.

  But I never ran from Aidan, and I wouldn’t abandon him now. Hooking a left, I circled to the back of the coffee shop. I had no weapons and no actual plan. But even though it made no sense, my gut said they were here for me not Aidan.

  I whispered a prayer to whatever god was listening as I rounded the corner. Something must have heard me because a barista hurried out the back door. I caught it before it closed.

  I sent another prayer I wasn’t too late.

  Aidan came into view rooted in the same spot. He panted, his hands still moving in rapid movements. The three thugs pressed closer but were still held back by an invisible force. They were moving around trying to flank the windy assault. Aidan was doomed if someone didn’t help him.

  I glanced around for the nearest weapon I could use. I grasped one of the large coffee machines and pulled until the cord snapped out of the socket. The thing was freaking heavy, even only half full.

  “Hey, assholes,” I said to draw their attention.

  Four sets of eyes shifted to me. The attackers ignored Aidan. For better or worse, I had their attention. With about as much grace as a fat panda in a tutu, I catapulted the machine in their direction. As if caught in a trance, they watched it sail across the room toward them, unmoving, seemingly unconcerned.

  It missed.

  Well, less missed and more obliterated into a million scraps of metal before hitting them.

  What. The. Hell?

  One threw a dagger in my direction. I ducked in time, crouching on the floor behind the counter.

  I gulped air, my heart trying to break free of my chest and get the hell out of there. The remaining barista whimpered next to me. I hadn’t even considered her through all this.

  “It’s okay now,” I whispered. “You’re safe.”

  It was likely a lie, but that’s what you say when in a life or death situation. Saying ‘Oh, shit, we’re going to die’ instead is a great way to be voted as the first sacrifice for the greater good.

  No one liked a whiner.

  I peeked over the counter, not wanting to be used for target practice again, but also concerned about Aidan. What I saw would be imprinted on my mind for life. Not because of what it was, but rather who was doing it.

  All three men were on their knees, hands clutching their throats, eyes bulging.

  Aidan stood behind them, fingers still moving, eyes murderous. I’d never seen him so angry and I’d seen him plenty pissed before.

  He wasn’t touching them. He wasn’t even that close. But he was doing something, and it was killing them.

  One by one, their bodies fell against the floor. Their faces were grotesque masks straight out of an H. R. Giger exhibit. Bloated with bleeding eyes and purple faces.

  Aidan stalked in my direction still looking like he would rip someone’s head off.

  He vaulted over the counter with a single hand, not looking at me once. He lifted his hands, his fingers moving rhythmically, and his eyes locked on the terrified worker.

  I stood and grabbed his arm, pushing it down and interrupting whatever the hell he was doing. “What the shit, Aidan? Stop.”

  He growled.

  I reached up, pinched his chin with my fingers and turned his head toward me. “Look at me.”

  His face softened when his eyes met mine.

  “It’s over, Aidan. It’s over.”

  He shook his head. “No witnesses.”

  I took a step back, repelled by the lack of emotion and the lack of disgust he had at his horrible words. I punched him hard in the arm. “What are you talking about?”

  He flinched. “Why do you think we’ve survived for so long? No witnesses.”

  A finger of cold traveled down my spine as my hair rose in terror. “You can’t just murder your problems. This isn’t Soviet Russia.”

  He narrowed his eyes but also lowered his hands. “Your brother won’t be happy.”

  “What does he have to do with this? And what the hell aren’t you telling me?”

  He pulled his hand through his hair, something he did when he was thinking up a lie. Blood streaked through it.

  There was a gaping hole in his neck where the shard of glass had been. I wasn’t sure when he’d ripped it out. It must not have been very deep since blood wasn’t spurting out of the wound. Or did that only happen in the movies? I had no experience with that sort of thing.

  “You should get that looked at before it gets infected.”

  He took one more look at the trembling barista before meeting my gaze.

  “We need to get out of here before…” His voice trailed off as he looked over my shoulder.

  I turned to see what had stopped him from finishing his sentence.

  The bodies of the three attackers were gone.

  “Well, fuck me,” we said in unison.

  Chapter Two

  After a not so mini freak out from me while Aidan whispered harshly into his phone—words I couldn’t understand amidst losing my shit—he dragged me from the coffee shop and to his car. He’d been silent the entire drive to my apartment.

  I stared at him sitting across from me. “Talk,” I struggled to keep my voice steady.

  He wouldn’t meet my gaze. “It’s complicated.”

  I scoffed. “Isn’t it always? Who were those guys?”

  “I don’t know.”

  There was a tinge of untruth to his words. How I knew, I couldn’t explain. I just did.

  I always knew.

  “But you have suspicions.”

  He nodded, still refusing to look at me.

  He looked like a defeated puppy scared of going back to the pound. A part of me wanted to reach out and reassure him, promise that no matter what was going on, he was my best friend and I loved him. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  But apparently, I had a harder time lying than him.

  I clutched the stem of the wine glass.

  The first thing I’d done when getting home was march into the kitchen and pour a glass of my favorite chardonnay.

  The second was to pour another glass.

  “Who… what are you?”

  He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together before sighing. Finally, he looked up, his pale blue eyes unusually dull.

  He really looked defeated.

  “Your friend.”

  Before I could unleash how I felt about that, someone knocked on my front door.

  Aidan stood and rushed to open it.

  It wasn’t his apartment. He had no real right to open my front door, but I let it go.

  Bigger concerns and all.

  My brother Liam strode into the apartment, his eyes laser-focused on Aidan.

  His expression was not kind.

  Aidan lowered his head, almost in submission, which was weirder than three assassins and whatever the hell Aidan had done to defeat them.

  The two barely knew each other even though I’d tried to facilitate meetings between them.

  They were the two most important people in my life. Of course I wanted them to be friends.

  Apparently satisfied with Aidan’s show of deference, my brother rushed across the room and pulled me into his arms, almost knocking the wine glass from my hand.
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  I set it down and hugged him back, feeling for a moment a sense of safety. Something I always did in his presence.

  But safety is an illusion. Something I had known even before today.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yeah. No worse for wear.” I gave a short, pitiful laugh. “Physically, at least. You can’t say the same for my insides.”

  He pulled away, gazing down at me.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “It’s complicated.”

  I shook my head, pulling away from him. The sense of security vanished.

  It was only then I wondered if it was a natural feeling or something else, an illusion—a lie.

  “When people say complicated, what they really mean is ‘you won’t like it, so I’d rather keep it hidden so I don’t have to deal with your reaction.’”

  The corner of his lip lifted, but he didn’t fully smile.

  “In this case it is complicated. But you are right. You won’t like it either.”

  “Then spill. It’s not like the cat’s going to wander back into the bag.”

  “It can be shoved,” Aidan mumbled under his breath.

  Liam turned a glare so menacing in his direction, I shivered.

  “Out,” he said, in a tone that brokered no argument.

  Aidan raised his chin, defiance etched on his handsome face. “I have a right to be here, as M’s—"

  “You almost got her killed!”

  Aidan narrowed his eyes. “Me? This is on you.”

  Something electric seemed to gather around my brother’s body. “You will show the proper respect.”

  Aidan snorted, unfazed by the threat in Liam’s tone.