Dark Roses: Eight Paranormal Romance Novels

by P. T. Michelle

  I secretly imagine him hiding in a tree with a telescope or binoculars complete with face paint to camouflage himself. But he’s way too serious to really do something that fun. On the other hand, that would be right up Jacoby’s alley. In fact, I’m kind of surprised he hasn’t tried to pull something like that yet.

  “Good morning, Lark,” Jacoby greets me with the nickname he bestowed upon me so affectionately when we first met. He coerced me into singing for him and I really can’t carry a tune so of course he nicknamed me after the bird specifically known for its melodious song.

  He thinks he’s funny.

  He rarely calls me by my real name any more.

  He’s wearing a navy blue flannel shirt, untucked and only partially-buttoned with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and artfully-holey jeans. His auburn hair is messy in that on-purpose sort of way and his perpetually-mischievous green eyes are sparkling at me.

  “You’re late,” Grey points out rather grumpily. I guess his irritation stems from the fact he had to hang out with Jacoby while waiting for me. I don’t think Grey and Jacoby will ever be BFFs but I do hope that one day, preferably sooner than later, they can at least move past being barely tolerable towards each other.

  “I am not,” I argue, and glance at my phone to check the time. “I have exactly two minutes until first period.”

  “Yeah, well, we better hurry if we are going to make it to class in time.”

  “I’m not going to class this morning,” Jacoby announces. “I just stopped by to tell Lark good morning.”

  “Jacoby! You can’t skip. We have a test today in Mr. Shilling’s class,” I remind him.

  “Seriously, Lark, you know I’m not here for the stimulating academic atmosphere. It’s not like I need to graduate to get into college or anything. I’m only here for you.”

  “Exactly,” Grey interjects. “You are supposed to be here protecting her, making her safety your top priority.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not really the responsible one in this trio, now am I?” Jacoby smirks. “Relax, Mr. Intensity, Alberico okayed it. He’s sending someone else to watch nearby while I’m gone. Besides, aren’t you always complaining that you don’t really need me here anyway?”

  “Where’re you going?” I ask him before Grey can respond. I’m not really in the mood for any bickering this morning.

  “Isobel asked me to meet with her this morning. She said it’s important,” he says with a sort of nonchalant shrug but there’s something off in his voice. I think he’s trying to brush it off like it isn’t a big deal when in fact, it probably is actually important. Anyway, I don’t think his aunt would ask him to skip unless it was. I’m glad that Isobel and Jacoby are spending time together and getting to know one another. She’s the only family he has left now.

  “As long as Alberico gave his permission.” I don’t want him to get into any trouble with my dad.

  “Isobel said she cleared it.”

  “Tell her I said ‘hi’.”

  “I’ll be back before lunch, okay?”

  “Okay.” I stand on my tippy toes and kiss his cheek. “See you later.”

  He glances around the parking lot to make sure nobody’s paying attention then walks off into a nearby cluster of trees, scans his surroundings once more for good measure, and then he vanishes.

  I stand there staring at the spot where he just disappeared a little too long. Grey clears his throat to catch my attention.

  “Sorry, I was just distracted,” I tell him as I shake my head back into the present. We walk towards the school. Since Jacoby’s gone for the morning, I know that Grey won’t leave my side except during class and even then, he will be waiting outside my classroom before the bell rings. It’s kind of frustrating actually because I spent the better part of first semester being extremely confused by his behavior.

  Greyson’s a pretty boy—it’s an elf thing. They’re actually all out of this world beautiful, but I’ve always had a soft spot for his eyes. Nobody else has eyes like his. They’re an unusual, but gorgeous, shade of indigo-blue. He wears his dark hair long, almost to his chin, in order to disguise his slightly pointed ears.

  When he started school at MHS last fall, he caused quite the stir amongst the female population. It always struck me as odd that he only ever talked to me.

  I had a major crush on him. That’s until I found out that he has seen me in diapers. That sort of freaked me out, but nothing would’ve changed my feelings if he would have given us a chance. He was completely adamant that we could be nothing more than friends. I know the logistics of a relationship with an elf do not make sense. But the heart wants what the heart wants.

  He, however, didn’t think I was worth it so I moved on. I moved on to somebody who does think I’m worth it. But even though I’ve moved on, that doesn’t mean I can escape Grey. Since my father has placed him in charge of protecting me he’s always around, which gets a little awkward since Jacoby’s usually nearby as well.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks as we approach the glass doors that lead into Manhattan High School.

  “Good,” I lie. I absentmindedly start to twirl a strand of my hair around my finger. Grey reaches out and pulls my hand down. The warmth of his hand causes a jolt to my system and I instinctively pull my hand away. There was a time I would have been thrilled that he was holding my hand. But things are so very different now.

  “I know when you are lying. I may not be able to tell from your aura like your boyfriend, but I can tell because I know you. Everything about you. Including your nervous habits.” He touches the side of my face. “You seem upset today.”

  I stare at him for a moment, trying to decide whether or not I want to talk to him about it.

  “Fine, I had another nightmare,” I blurt out.

  “Another?” Grey tilts his head to the side curiously, stepping close enough to me that there’s hardly any space between us. I take a deep breath, catching a whiff of apples and sandalwood and I find myself comforted by the familiarity of him.

  “Yeah, I’ve been having them almost every night since….you know.” It’s been weeks but I still struggle to say the words out loud. It’s difficult to even think them: I killed someone.

  “What happens?”

  I look around to make sure no one is paying any attention. Everyone is so absorbed with their own gossiping and exchanging of possible theories about what really happened to Seth that I don’t have to worry about anyone overhearing me.

  After I tell him what happened in my dream, Grey seems to ponder everything I just told him for a moment before speaking again, “You know that you aren’t like them, right?”

  He doesn’t have to explain, I know he means the Dark Elves.

  “I hope not,” I say without looking at him.

  “You are not evil. You didn’t kill Brian for pure enjoyment. You were trying to defend your people. There’s honor in that.”

  The bell rings signaling the start of first hour and I still haven’t made it to my locker yet. Then I notice the Missing Person posters that now clutter the walls of the hallway. I scan the hallway for any sign of Hannah’s strawberry blonde hair but I don’t see her.

  “Did you hear about Seth?” I ask Grey.

  “Yes.”

  “Hannah must be so upset, but she hasn’t said a word to me about it.” I’m still baffled by this. Why wouldn’t she talk to me about it? Her boyfriend is missing for goodness sake! It’s kind of a big deal and surely she would’ve noticed before now. I mean, if Jacoby was gone for a week, I’d notice. Heck, I’d notice if he was missing for a day.

  “I am afraid there may be more to the story,” Grey says.

  “Do you think—?”

  “It’s easy to jump to that conclusion right now, after all, people disappear all the time without any help from the Dökkálfar so I believe we should wait until we have more information before assuming the worst. However, I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “Is it wrong t
o hope that he just ran away? His parents must be so worried, but still—”

  I don’t have to finish my sentence. Grey knows that believing Seth ran away on his own accord is much easier to swallow than thinking the Dark Elves had anything to do with it.

  Grey and I walk in uncomfortable silence side by side to my locker. He stays with me until I gather all my books and then he walks me to my first class. I guess he doesn’t care that by doing so he’s making himself even later.

  “I’ll see you later,” he says softly.

  “Yeah, see ya.” I turn to go but he suddenly grabs my arm to stop me. “What?”

  I turn to face him, his stance has stiffened and his eyes are narrowed at something or someone behind me. I follow his gaze—past Mrs. Coleman who’s watching me curiously, probably wondering what’s going on—and my eyes fall upon the gangly figure sitting in the front row in the desk next to mine and shock hits me like a Mack truck.

  Ethan’s back.

  Grey pulls me back into the hallway and I stumble over my feet trying to keep up.

  “What’s he doing here?” I ask. The last time I saw Ethan was the night Hannah and I were attacked in the parking lot of the movie theater. He’s one of the humans who, like Brian, had been working undercover for Dugan in his attempts to kidnap me and force me into breaking the curse placed on the Dark Elves by Sól.

  “I don’t know, but I’ve got to get you out of here.”

  “Grey, I can’t—”

  “Mia,” he whispers frantically. “Just, please, for once, don’t be stubborn. Just let me get you out of here.”

  I nod to let him know I’ll be good and reach out my hand to him. He pulls me behind him out of the nearest exit and back into the parking lot, heading straight for the tree line. As soon as we are hidden from view, our fingers entwine. A moment later the world spins and we’re surrounded in a bright and warm golden light.

  In the Shadows (Lark #2)

  Like the Dawn (Lark #3)

  The Dark Realm

  Book 1 in the FEYLAND Trilogy

  ANTHEA SHARP

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real events or persons is purely coincidental.

  Copyright 2011 Anthea Sharp. All rights reserved. Support independent authors! To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, other than for review purposes, contact antheasharp@hotmail.com. Print copies available at most vendors. Visit the author at www.antheasharp.com and sign up for her mailing list, Sharp Tales, at https://tinyletter.com/AntheaSharp for news of upcoming releases!

  COVER: Design - Kimberly Killion, www.hotdamndesigns.com

  Model – Jessica Truscott, faestock.deviantart.com

  QUALITY CONTROL: If you encounter typos or formatting problems, please contact antheasharp@hotmail.com so they may be corrected.

  DEDICATION

  For all the readers in my family – but most especially, for Brynn.

  PROLOGUE

  Jennet faced the Dark Queen, her mage staff at the ready. Excitement fizzed through her blood like it was carbonated. This was it. She’d completed the quests, mastered each level of the game, and made it here. The final boss fight.

  “Fair Jennet.” The queen’s voice was laced with stars and shadow. “You think to best me in battle?” A faint smile crossed her pitiless, beautiful face. Her dress swirled around her like tatters of midnight mist.

  “I plan on it,” Jennet said. She tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear, then shook off the sudden anxiety that settled on her shoulders, cold as snow.

  She had no idea what this particular fight held. Feyland was the hardest sim she’d ever played, full of weird twists and turns. She thought about it all the time. The game filtered into her dreams, shaded the edge of her days. Sometimes the computer-generated world felt more real than her ordinary life.

  “Very well,” the queen said. “I accept your challenge.”

  Jennet couldn’t see any weapons on her opponent, and that dress was no substitute for armor. Safe bet that this was going to be a magical duel, spell-caster against spell-caster. Jennet flexed her fingers around the smooth wood of her staff. Anticipation spiked through her, tightening her breath.

  Fantastical creatures watched from the edges of the clearing: feral-faced women with gossamer wings, dark riders with red-eyed hounds at their heels. The sound of drums and pipes wove through the shadows. Overhead, a sliver of moon tangled in the black branches of the trees. Then, between one heartbeat and the next, silence fell.

  A dark figure stepped forward, forbidding in midnight armor and a wicked helm, and Jennet’s stomach clenched. The Black Knight. She’d barely beaten him in an earlier quest. If he got involved in this fight, she was in severe trouble.

  He held his gauntleted fist high and grated out a single word. “Begin.”

  It echoed eerily through the glade, and the fey-folk let out a rough cheer. There was no one to cheer for Jennet.

  Without hesitation, she tipped her staff and shot a bolt of fiery white light at the queen. A sphere of shadow appeared, blocking her attack and swallowing the fire into its dark depths. More spheres materialized and began floating toward her, called by the Dark Queen. Jennet ducked and wove, avoiding their deadly touch.

  Lightning crackled from her staff, illuminating the clearing with shocking white light, but the queen evaded her bolts. Still, Jennet kept pressing the attack. The dark spheres were multiplying now, bobbing in the air on all sides. A low, menacing hum surrounded her as she tried to find a clear shot.

  She couldn’t afford any mistakes - but the fight was pushing her to her limits. Worry started to nibble at the edges of her concentration. She just had to watch for an opening… there. She took aim and sent another bolt crackling through the air.

  White fire sizzled and Jennet heard the queen gasp. Yes! She could do it. She could beat this game. The first player ever to claim victory over Feyland.

  A dark sphere brushed against her shoulder. Ice stabbed into her skin, sent numbness down her arm until she could barely hold onto her staff. She stumbled back, trying to regain the rhythm of the battle. Keep breathing. Keep fighting. But where was the queen? The place where her opponent had stood was now filled with twisting shadows.

  Everything rippled, as though the clearing was made of cloth billowing in a sudden gust. Jennet heard high, chiming laughter as she fell backward…

  And landed in an ornate chair set before a feasting table. What? She jumped up, heart racing, and knocked the edge of the table. A goblet sitting in front of her shook, sending a drop of deep red liquid to stain the white tablecloth.

  “Sit down, Fair Jennet,” the queen said from her place across the table. “This is the next stage of our battle.”

  Pale candles in thorny candelabra illuminated the feast. Their silver flames reflected in the queen’s fathomless eyes.

  “You changed the rules! You can’t do that.” Jennet’s legs felt shaky as she edged back into her chair. She was so not prepared for this.

  The queen laughed. It was the sound of ice shattering on a black lake. “Of course I can. This is my court. My realm. You are but a visitor. Please - drink.” She waved one delicate hand at the goblet.

  “No thanks.”

  Jennet’s mouth said the words, but her hand reached out anyway and lifted the heavy silver goblet. A sweet, thick smell drifted from the cup. Roses and burnt sugar. The edge of metal touched her lips.

  No. She was not going to do this. The queen might try to control their battle, but she could still fight back. Fingers trembling from effort, Jennet forced the goblet away. The air around her was sticky and nearly solid, like dough. She pushed against it, her breath coming in gasps, until at last the cup touched the table.

  “Very well.” The queen’s voice was edged with frost. “If you disdain my hospitality, then you must answer a riddle.”

  That seemed safer than drinking whatever was in
the goblet. And the game wasn’t giving her a lot of other options. “A riddle? All right.”

  The candles flared and the queen’s eyes glowed. “Listen then, and listen well, the answer to this riddle tell, or forfeit of thyself will be, and never more wilt thou be free.”

  Jennet shivered. The queen’s voice was ominous, her words intoned with deep meaning. Whatever happened, it was clear that failing to answer the riddle carried a price. Jennet curled her fingers tightly into her palms and tried not to show the fear flickering through her.

  “Ask me your riddle,” she said.

  “As soon as it begins, it is ending. Without form, still it moves. When it is gone, it yet remains.” The queen smiled, sharp as a blade. “You have three guesses.”

  “Ah…” Jennet’s mouth was dry. Her mind beat against the riddle like a bird trapped behind glass. Without taste or form. Something powerful, but insubstantial. “Is it the wind?”

  A low sighing went through the branches of the dark trees. The candle nearest her snuffed out, as though some invisible hand had abruptly doused the flame.

  The queen shook her head. “One chance gone.”

  A circle of watchers had formed around the table. Lithe women with gossamer wings gathered beside the queen. Gnarled brown creatures with sharp teeth and fingers that were too long for their hands swayed next to them. Red-capped goblins and capering sprites - they all watched her with avid, gleaming eyes.

  Freaky. This whole battle had turned beyond strange. Jennet pulled in a deep breath, though her chest felt tight, and gave another answer. “Music?”