Faerie Lords Boxset

by Isabella August

  THE END

  Thanks for reading Crown of Briars — but the faerie tale is far from over! Keeping reading to continue with Cancer witch Jenna Wright’s story in book 3, Crown of Glass.

  Copyright © 2019 by Isabella August

  https://isabellaaugust.com

  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.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and stories are the product of the authors' imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons (living or dead), organizations, and events is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are consenting adults of ages 18 years of age or older.

  This book is for adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language.

  Chapter 1

  Jenna Wright had known she was a witch for an unusually long time. At eight years old, she’d already figured out how to open her Witchsight and started wreaking merry havoc with the other elementary school kids — to say nothing of her effect on her poor teachers. When Jenna’s father finally sat her down and had the Talk, where he told her she had magic and needed to learn to control it, she’d hoped that meant she didn’t have to go to school anymore — or at least that she might be able to go to some sort of special magical school instead. No such luck. As a kid, she’d found that really horribly unfair.

  Now in her late twenties, lugging a messenger bag full of psychology journals and ungraded quizzes, Jenna knew that such unfairness was only the very tip of the iceberg. Not only did witches have to go to school like everyone else — some of them had to split time between working as an adjunct and moonlighting as a barista just to pay for their boring school.

  Jenna pushed her way through the front door of the Java Lounge with a soft groan. Her coworker Marie shot her a frown as she dragged herself behind the coffee counter, exhausted, dumping her bag unceremoniously onto the floor. “You’re late,” Marie said. It wasn’t an accusation. Marie was too nice for that — she wasn’t the worst doormat Jenna had ever met, but Jenna often joked with her that she was in the top three. “Everything okay?”

  “No,” Jenna muttered. “But that’s par for the course, isn’t it?” She sighed in return. “I’m sorry. I’ll close up tonight so you can go home early.”

  Marie frowned. She was a younger girl, still in her bachelors program, but she had a habit of mothering her customers and her coworkers. “You shouldn’t be working yourself like this,” she said. “If you faint on the job again—”

  “—you won’t call an ambulance, because you’ll know better this time,” Jenna told her wryly. “I’ve been dealing with this shit since I was eight, Marie. Making a few coffees isn’t gonna kill me.”

  Marie didn’t like that answer. No one ever liked that answer. But what was she supposed to do, stop living her life? Something about Jenna’s early magical development had triggered a chronic health condition that had plagued her for most of her life. Her far-too-many doctors had developed far-too-many theories on what was wrong with her over the last two decades — all purely mundane explanations, like auto-immune diseases and vitamin deficiencies and even parasites. None of their treatments had done the first thing to improve her health. She’d long since resigned herself to doing the best she could with what she had.

  Jenna grabbed her shop apron and pulled her auburn hair back into a ponytail. She took a moment to check herself in the mirror on her makeup compact. A haggard young woman looked back, with big black circles under her hazel eyes. Her neat wireframe glasses were just a little bit askew, and the thought struck her that she looked a little bit like a geeky zombie.

  She cringed. No wonder Marie sounded worried. She was going to need to slather on another metric ton of concealer if she wanted to look like a human being for the late-night latte crowd.

  “I’ll… be right back,” Jenna muttered at her, embarrassed. She stepped off for the bathroom, compact in hand.

  The café bathroom was cozy, done up in dark wood and lit with soft lamps. The broad mirror over the far wall sent an uneasy shudder down Jenna’s spine. She didn’t want to look at it. More than once, she’d asked if they could just get rid of it, even though the asking inevitably got her scoffs and strange looks.

  Still — she steeled her spine and raised her eyes to the mirror, ignoring the flutter of panic it always instilled in her.

  A Jenna with an awful, ghostly complexion looked back at her. She hastily re-combed her hair into a better ponytail and dabbed some foundation over the dark bags beneath her eyes. Slowly, she straightened her back, forcing her posture into something a little more cheerful.

  Jenna stared at herself for another long moment, fighting her way through the fear. “He’s not everywhere,” she murmured. “He’s not always watching. He can’t be.”

  One of the lamps flickered uneasily. Jenna pressed her lips together and stepped back, staring at the mirror. The Jenna in the mirror simply looked scared now, and tired, and woefully alone and out of her depth… which seemed altogether too accurate.

  She snapped her compact closed and ducked her way out of the bathroom, her heart beating just a little too quickly in her chest. “Stupid little phobia,” she muttered to herself.

  But Jenna knew better. Phobias were by definition irrational fears. Her fear of mirrors had a very real and very rational cause.

  Marie was busy with a customer when Jenna got back, so she jumped in to wipe down the espresso machines and set up a shot for the drink order that Marie called out. The mind-numbing work drove away all her lingering thoughts of old, frightening memories and reflections that refused to behave themselves.

  A few hours later, and Jenna was starting to suspect that fainting on the job wasn’t entirely out of the question. No amount of concealer could fix the fact that being on her feet was making her even more lightheaded than usual. Thankfully, it was a relatively quiet night; the study group in the corner seemed to be winding down, finishing off their drinks instead of ordering new ones. She’d had a chance to get ahead of a few of the café’s daily tasks in between drinks, checking up on their stock and posting some cheerful-looking pictures on their social media.

  “Who actually follows a coffee shop feed online?” Marie asked wryly. “I work here and I don’t check it.” She had a chemistry textbook out under the counter — probably reading through her homework for classes tomorrow. Management was pretty well aware that most of their employees were poor, time-strapped students from the University of Toronto, so a little bit of class work during work hours was often allowed to slip under the radar, as long as you dropped it when the customers needed you.

  “We’ve got like three followers,” Jenna said, scrolling through her phone. “One’s our boss. The other one’s a professor, I think? The last one’s probably a robot.”

  “Oh, no,” Marie sighed, glancing over her shoulder. “That last one’s my mother. God bless her.”

  Jenna snorted, and closed down the feed. The stack of ungraded quizzes in her bag weighed on her mind. If she could get at least half of them done before closing time, she might manage to relax some tonight — maybe even read something that wasn’t a psychology journal.

  The tiny bell on the front door jingled softly, and she banished the thought. Jenna turned back toward the counter, pasting a smile over her exhaustion. “Hey,” she said. “What can I get for you?”

  The man on the other side of the counter was tall — much too handsome and fashionable to be a professor, if you asked any of his female students. He kept his dark hair in a loose ponytail down his back; Jenna’s hair refused to grow so long, and she often envied its length. Tonight, he was wearing a faded t-shirt and jeans that had already turned a few heads in the coffee shop.

  “One cappuccin
o, please,” he said, with a white, pristine smile. “I’m looking at a late night.”

  Jenna smiled back wryly. “Dr. Cloutier,” she said. “At least I’m not the only one feeling behind the curve.”

  Off to her right, Jenna saw Marie stiffen subconsciously and take a step back. Most mortals found something instinctively uncomfortable about Adrian Cloutier after just a second in his presence. Truthfully, even Jenna had the instinct — she just knew better than to indulge it.

  It was hardly his fault he was a vampire, after all.

  “Have to earn that grant money somehow,” Adrian told her cheerfully. “Speaking of which — will I be seeing you in the office tomorrow?”

  Jenna scrunched up her nose. “It’s on the books,” she said. “I haven’t cancelled. Why wouldn’t I be there?”

  Adrian pulled out a few bills, shoving one toward her and another into the tip jar. She flushed, and did her best not to notice. “I was just thinking… you don’t look very well.” He lowered his voice on the last part, and leaned in slightly. “Are you feeling all right?”

  Jenna set her jaw. “I’m fine,” she said shortly. “I’ll let you know if I’m not, I promise.”

  Lord, what was with people and fussing over her lately?

  Adrian held up a hand. “No implications intended,” he said. “We can always put it off if we need to, is all.”

  Jenna sighed. I’m on edge around him too, she thought. Even when I try not to be. Poor guy. Her shoulders had tensed up. Her pulse was racing, screaming at her that Adrian was a predator, that he was going to tear her throat out any second. She took a deep breath, and scolded her brain into submission.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. “It’s… you know.”

  Adrian’s smile turned helpless. “I know,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  As Jenna stepped off to pull his cappuccino, Marie paused next to her, wiping down the counter. “…I really don’t like that guy,” she muttered under her breath. “And I really don’t like the way he looks at you, Jenna.”

  Jenna nodded dutifully. “Like he’s going to eat me up?” she asked ironically.

  Marie frowned. “Well,” she said. “Yes. Not to put too fine a point on it.”

  “Well,” said Jenna. “I’m not interested. He’s way too old for me.”

  Marie raised her eyebrows at too old, and Jenna covered a wince. Adrian looked about the same age as she was. She couldn’t tell Marie that he’d probably stopped aging somewhere around the turn of the century.

  “Anyway,” Jenna added quickly. “Given that he’s my thesis advisor, any nibbles would be inappropriate. You can chill.”

  She turned on the espresso machine, and conveniently drowned out Marie’s response with the resulting screech.

  A few minutes later, Jenna took the cappuccino to Adrian’s table. He shot her a grateful look, and took a small sip.

  Jenna eyed him for a moment. “…I didn’t realize you could drink coffee,” she observed quietly.

  “Small amounts,” Adrian sighed. He closed his eyes in caffeinated bliss. “It’s a little unhealthy for me, if I’m being honest, but I love the taste.”

  “Don’t we all,” Jenna muttered. “You’re preaching to the choir.” She glanced at the computer in front of him, and lowered her voice even further. “Good results?” she asked hopefully.

  Adrian opened his eyes. There was a faint red sheen to them when he did, but he quickly gathered control of himself and forced them back to a very dark blue. “I think we’re on the right track,” he said. “It used to take me much longer to eradicate phobias, before you started helping.”

  Before you started using your magic, his tone implied.

  As a vampire from the Cloutier bloodline, Adrian naturally had access to hypnotic powers of suggestion. For years, he’d been experimenting with therapeutic uses for his abilities. Currently, he was focused on the elimination of phobias. Jenna had ended up in one of his classes, and discovered his nature by happy accident. There’d been a bit of a misunderstanding at first, but when Adrian had realized she was a witch, he’d offered to join forces with her and take over as her thesis advisor, to advance their mutual, less mundane research.

  Several months in, and Jenna’s initial misgivings had completely evaporated. Unnatural long life had turned Adrian into an absolute genius in his field. If there was any hope that Jenna might someday achieve her own impossible goals, she thought, it might very well lay with a man exactly like him.

  “We can talk more tomorrow,” Adrian told her reassuringly.

  Jenna frowned at him suddenly. “You’re looking a little pale yourself,” she accused. “You been drinking anything more than coffee lately?”

  Adrian laughed sheepishly. “I’m an academic,” he admitted. “I might have lost track of time. And, um. Lunch.”

  Jenna’s stomach churned uneasily. Part of her was always grossed out by the thought of Adrian’s lunch. But that didn’t change the fact that he needed it to survive. “If…” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “If you need to eat…”

  He glanced up at her, over the computer screen. His expression turned wary. “…are you sure?” he asked softly.

  Jenna winced. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. Adrian was crucial to her goals. If he was starving, he would hardly be at his best. “It’s just giving blood,” she muttered, though her heart was pounding and her stomach felt sick. “We can call it my Good Samaritan act for the month.”

  Adrian sighed. He stood up, and reached out to ruffle her hair. “You’re a good kid, Jen,” he said.

  Jen.

  The name made her choke for a second. The memory of it mixed with the feeling of paranoia Adrian often inspired in her.

  You can’t call me that, she wanted to hiss at him. No one calls me that.

  “Hey!” Marie’s voice cut sharply through the café. A second later, she was dragging Jenna by the arm, hauling her back from Adrian and subtly interposing herself between them.

  Jenna blinked. The fear and anger and misery inside her lessened at the interruption.

  Adrian raised an eyebrow at Marie. She stared him down with narrowed eyes. “Sorry?” he said. “Did I do something?”

  Marie pressed her lips together. “No,” she said shortly. “I just… need Jenna behind the counter.”

  She turned on her heel, dragging Jenna behind her.

  “Marie,” Jenna said warningly. “That wasn’t super polite.”

  “Screw polite,” Marie snapped back at her. “I’m telling you, Jenna, I don’t like him. I know you know what I’m talking about, and I wish you’d listen to your own instincts.”

  Jenna clenched her teeth. “Not all instincts are healthy or true,” she said. “If I always followed my instincts, you’d be sweeping up the pieces of that bathroom mirror before closing time.”

  “You’re fooling yourself,” Marie said, as they came back around the counter. “I don’t know why you’re doing it. I only hope you come back to your senses before it’s too late.”

  Jenna pulled away from her coworker. She snatched up her bag, and pulled out a pile of papers. “Go worry wort over on the other side, why don’t you,” she said. “You’re starting to get on my nerves, Marie. And I’ve got papers to grade.”

  Marie frowned. Jenna knew that unsettled look in her coworker’s eyes was genuine. She also knew that some part of her agreed with it, deep down.

  I can’t afford to be scared of Adrian, Jenna told herself, steadying her breathing as she settled back into a chair behind the counter. I need him.

  The fear in her throat refused to disappear, however, until Adrian had left the café.

  Jenna’s fever still hadn’t broken by closing time. She spent the last hour of her shift reading and rereading the same line from a student’s short-answer test before it occurred to her that she should have been minding the register.

  “Damn it,” she muttered, shoving the paper back into her bag. “Damn it, damn it, damn it�
��”

  Marie was at the register, handling things without complaint. Because of course she was. Jenna’s coworker smiled at their last customer as he ducked out the door, and headed over to turn the lock.

  “Why didn’t you poke me or something?” Jenna demanded.

  “You looked like you needed a second,” Marie sniffed. “Go home, Jenna. You look like hell. It’s not going to kill me to close up.”

  Jenna gaped at her. Anger burned in her chest. I’m not helpless! she wanted to yell. I’m older than you, stop treating me like a child!

  But it wasn’t the first time someone had infantilized her. It wouldn’t be the last time, either. Her father had turned her into a veritable hermit for most of her early life, constantly worried that she might overexert herself. Losing her temper had only ever convinced him that she was sick and cranky — she’d had to learn to keep her voice level and her words measured in order to go anywhere fun at all.

  I’m trained in cognitive psychology, god damn it, Jenna thought fiercely. If I can’t keep it together, I deserve to be babied.

  She took a long, deep breath. Counted to ten. Let it out again.

  Calm down my body. Turn the situation around. If Marie was sick, I’d tell her the same thing. And she’d tell me… what?

  “Marie,” Jenna said slowly. “Thank you. I know you mean well. And that’s super generous of you. But I need to feel like an adult, no matter how sick I get. Helping you close up would make me feel better, even if it’s hard on me physically. Can you understand that?”

  Marie glanced over, surprised. Her face softened a bit. “Oh,” she said. “I… guess I can see that. I just get worried, Jenna. You know I don’t mind helping out a little more, right? It’s not your fault you got sick. It just seems so unfair to you, especially when you’re doing all this because you want to help people.”