Broken Promises (The Brianna Lane Series)

by Belinda Boring

  What would you do if the man you loved became one of your

  greatest enemies? Would your love be enough to save him?

  I opened my mouth to argue. Knowing me like he did, he quickly interrupted.

  “No. You need to get as far away as possible, and no matter what happens, you don’t come looking for me. If there’s a cure, I’ll find you. Promise me.”

  “But I don’t want to leave you.” I knew I sounded desperate, but I didn’t care. We rarely spent time apart—the idea appalled me.

  “Promise!” he shouted, a tremor moving through him.

  “Okay, I promise!” I cried. I watched as he convulsed and his eyes began flickering again.

  “Now run, Bri. Run!”

  Praise for Broken Promises

  “Broken Promises is sexy and original as in it’s like nothing you have ever read before . . . it’s powerful. I’ll say it again: POWERFUL. You’ll hold your breath in some parts and sigh in others.”

  - Angel Downey, Amazon.

  “Get a taste for the Fae in this dark, edgy, dangerous, urban fantasy that will have you gobbling up the pages in search for all the sizzling chemistry between feisty Bri, and her oh-so-very delectable counterpart, Quinn, as magic wreaks delicious mayhem.”

  - Lacey Weatherford, bestselling author of Chasing Nikki

  and the Of Witches and Warlocks series.

  Praise for Bestselling

  The Mystic Wolves Series

  “Not since Twilight has a book grabbed me so fast.”

  - Cindy, Amazon.

  “This book is filled with great characters - including a lead female that readers can identify with and the swoon-worthy alpha male that you'll drool over.”

  - Tishia, Paranormal Opinion.

  “Mason and Darcy are my favorite werewolves since Elena and Clay.”

  - Mandie, Time 4 Mommy.

  “FANFRIGGINTASTIC. I LOVE THIS BOOK!!”

  - TSM, Amazon.

  More titles by

  Belinda Boring

  The Mystic Wolves series

  The Mystic Wolves

  Forget Me Not

  Testing Fate ~ Coming Soon

  Other

  Enchanted Hearts: part of

  A Midsummer Night’s Fling

  Moonstruck Media - Arizona

  Copyright © 2012 Belinda Boring

  Edited by Lacey Weatherford and Elena Gray

  Cover Art by Lacey Weatherford

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Published by

  Moonstruck Media

  Arizona

  KINDLE Ebook Edition

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This book is available in print and ebook format.

  Dedication

  To my BFF and soul sister,

  Lacey Weatherford.

  I know we joke about it a lot but THANK YOU!

  I wouldn’t be embracing my dreams if it weren’t for you

  lovingly shoving me over some cliffs. The free fall has been

  amazing and I get to do it all with you!

  Thank you for always being there when I need you.

  I LOVE YOU!

  Acknowledgments

  This all started with a dream. Funny how that happens, right? You wake up with three images stuck in your head and next thing you know, it takes on a life of its own. Broken Promises has been two years in the making and SQUEE … it’s finally here.

  Even though this book is dedicated to my BFF, I really feel I should say it again. Thank you so much, Lacey. You were the one who listened that day and encouraged me to write down my thoughts. Then SHOVE … participate in the 2010 National Novel Writing Month. You know me, I like to drag my feet a little so I can’t begin to express how grateful I am.

  Bri discovers a lot about herself in this series—one being she’s part of a special group of Guardians. One thing I’ve discovered through my journey as a writer and being me is I’m surrounded by my own group as well—people who love me, cheer for me, defend and protect me. They’re always there with unfailing loyalty, a smile on their face, and the courage to kick me in the pants when needed. I’ve learned so much from them and it’s an honor to call them my dearest friends. They helped me through this process—never once doubting I could do it. I love them for it. I respect them for it. I’m stronger because I have them in my life. Always and “froever.” Haha I love that we’ve adopted my late night misspell!

  It goes without saying this wouldn’t have become a reality without the support and love of my husband, Mark. You are always there. You never gave up. Most of all, you never thought I was crazy each time I pulled over to the side of the road so I could write down story ideas. I adore you!

  Thank you so much to Elena Gray. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate you being there when I needed you . . . MUAH!

  To those reading, enjoy! Your support keeps me going. Thank you!

  ~ Bels

  Prologue

  The private chambers of the Queen, Faery realm

  “Enter.”

  The voice calling out through the door held a musical lilt—like tinkling bells dancing in a gentle breeze—carrying it across the room within. To the unassuming listener, the sound reflected an image of innocence and childlike quality, but to those who knew better, a cold indifference echoed just as loudly.

  The Queen’s advisor stood motionless, hand poised on the elegant handles leading to her private chambers. Even though he was new to the prestigious position, he hesitated at the sound of her voice. He didn’t want to report the latest news.

  Images skated across his mind and he shuddered. The last fool who had delivered less than pleasing news had been tortured without mercy. No one could guarantee the mood they would find her in—her fickle reputation was notorious throughout the Court. Some made excuses for her extreme behavior, saying it was her age that made her somewhat unstable. Others said she found sick delight in making her subjects squirm under her scrutiny. There was one truth they all agreed on—everyone strove in finding ways to survive her temper.

  The advisor offered a hopeful prayer she was in good spirits, in the very least the bored and dismissive attitude she’d recently displayed. He released a nervous breath, however, knowing that what he was about to share could unleash her fiery temper. He didn’t want to find himself joining his predecessor.

  His hand trembled slightly as he continued to grip the entrance handle, pained over being this shaken. Naturally stronger in disposition, he wasn’t a fool—he knew the potential danger he was stepping into.

  “Unless you wish to visit my dungeons, Orville, I would come through those doors now. I won’t be kept waiting.”

  She knew it was him—she always did. He marveled how a sound so beautiful to the ears could be equally as threatening, striking fear in his heart. He swung the doors open after bracing himself and stepped into the dimly lit room.

  He noticed the Queen wasn’t in her usual spo
t at the bay windows, sitting instead on the ornate chaise by the brick hearth.

  Part of her face was hidden in shadow; the other half glowing from the flickering light produced by the fire she had blazing. Orville found himself momentarily pausing as her undeniable beauty struck him—the same reaction he had each time he was in her presence.

  Their people were naturally a graceful, beautiful, race. Human minstrels had dedicated sonnets about them for countless ages—their tireless infatuation immortalized by the written word. With just one glance, even the most uncreative amongst them began waxing poetic. As he approached his Ruler, Orville could see why. She was breathtaking.

  She had recently started having her hair woven into intricate designs, feathering in the delicate flowers found only in Faery. The blonde, almost white, strands shimmered when light reflected off them, creating a glowing aura that some said portrayed innocence and vulnerability. Those were the fools who were easily ensnared by her—trapped by flights of fancy.

  Her face was one of perfection. Large, doe-like eyes stood out—framed with the longest lashes he had ever seen. Her pale blue eyes shimmered against her ivory skin that was soft enough to touch.

  Without a doubt, she gave the image of everything virtuous and pure, but he knew how deceptive those looks could be. There were many who had underestimated her, believing the Queen could be easily manipulated. Those buffoons were either still residing in the depths of her dungeons, or their heads were cruelly shoved on spikes—gruesomely displayed high on the palace walls.

  No, Orville had promptly learned it was crucial, if not vital, to always remember the viciousness that lay deep within the Queen’s heart, and never forget.

  Standing at the entrance, he’d hoped the room had been lighter so he could judge from her expression how she’d receive him. Without it, he needed to rely on her body language. Despite the many layers of soft taffeta and brocade she was wearing, he could see her foot furiously tapping, and instantly wished to be elsewhere.

  It was just as he feared. She was upset, and he’d be lucky to leave with his head intact. With no other choice, he threw himself into a deep, respectful bow and held it until she gave him permission to straighten.

  “Your Majesty, excuse the interruption but it is important that I speak with you.” He risked a brief peek through his cascading hair and saw her looking at him with vague annoyance. He dreaded the message he was instructed to deliver, but it was unavoidable. With the way things were unfolding, if he waited even a moment longer, it could spell certain disaster.

  “I have very little patience this evening, Orville. Speak quickly, and then leave by the way you came.” Her tone held an undeniable coldness.

  He waited to be released from his bow, but she remained silent. With no other option, Orville swallowed his pride and continued staring at the carpet.

  “News has reached the Court about a disturbance, Your Highness. Someone has been secretly moving amongst the nobility to amass a group of supporters. Court gossip speculates plans are being made to cross over into the Human realm and if you don’t step in and crush this attempt, your subjects will rebel and overthrow you.” Orville closed his eyes, silently waiting as the Queen digested what he’d shared.

  “And what do you think, Orville? What do you speculate?” There was a veiled threat loosely camouflaged in her soft whisper.

  He needed to tread carefully, his life hanging fragilely in the balance. “I think . . .” He paused to fortify his nerves. “I think it would be wise to investigate. I already have men who can go into the city and learn all they can. I just wait on your approval.”

  He had barely finished talking before he realized she’d moved, quietly crossing the distance between them. A wave of cold fear spiked inside his chest as she bent over and murmured low in his ear.

  “I don’t care what you think. I don’t care what the Court thinks. I am the Queen and my word is law. Why should I be concerned about what one person does? Tell me, Orville, why should I care who crosses over?”

  She wrapped her hand abruptly around the back of his neck, forcing him into a deeper bow. His nose threatened to touch his knees, and he worried about falling head first onto the floor. Orville clenched his fists, struggling to hold his tongue and keep his balance.

  There was no point reasoning with her and even if he tried, it would result in his death. Clearly she wasn’t interested and believed the threat didn’t affect her—the walls of her palace giving her a false sense of security. “Annoy me with this gossip again and I will show you my temper and cruelty. If this reaches my ears once more, I will hold you personally responsible.” She tightened her grip, causing him to flinch. “Run if you choose, there’s nowhere you can hide in Faery to escape my displeasure . . . my fury. Do you understand?” The Queen swept her leg forward and kicked his feet from underneath him, sending him sprawling across the floor.

  Orville’s spine stiffened with stifled outrage. He had never been treated this way—never been forced to suffer such indignity. He was of noble birth and had anyone else treated him this way, he would’ve killed them where they stood—no questions asked. It was through arrogant pride that he’d found himself assigned to the Queen’s service—a decision he now regretted.

  Adrenaline pumped through his system and caused the blood in his head to pound loudly in his ears. Fae vanity demanded he defend himself, yet Orville continued to lie on the floor. He removed any sign of defiance from his eyes and body language, knowing even the slightest display would end his life.

  “Yes, I think you understand,” the Queen purred, standing over him. “Now get out of my sight.” As she turned away, Orville moved quickly and was through the door a moment later.

  He didn’t need to be told twice. Without another look, he fled.

  The private chambers of the High Priestess, Human realm

  “Something’s stirring and we’re worried, Ruth. Even the animals are scared, and poor Sally has retreated into her room, refusing to come out. We’ve been searching through the annals hoping for another explanation for the restlessness. All the signs point to one thing—serious trouble.”

  The voice on the phone sounded tired and Ruth could only imagine the long hours that had been spent looking for answers before they’d notified her. As High Priestess, she knew this conversation hadn’t been an easy one for Michelle. She’d also sensed the unease churning over the past few days and had decided to send out inquiries. It had proven unnecessary, however, as phone calls began pouring in by mid-morning—this being one of many she’d already taken.

  Ruth rubbed her face, trying to stay awake as she gathered her thoughts. She hadn’t slept in days. Each time she closed her eyes frightening images filled her mind. It was the one thing she disliked about the office she held.

  Her nightmares were crowded with scenes of mass destruction. She saw war, death, and lifeless bodies piled high—blood drenching every surface, terrified screams, loud and deafening. Dragged from these tormenting visions, she’d sat up from a dead sleep, her heart beating furiously as she found herself twisted up in bed sheets. She dripped with chilled sweat, her mind frantically trying to make sense of the madness. But it was elusive and Ruth was soon left with nothing but a few snippets and a gut wrenching fear. She slept again with the hope of learning more, but each time she’d awakened with nothing. The nightmares came when they chose to, and she hated being this blind. It didn’t bode well.

  As a seer, Ruth’s station allowed her insight through dreams and visions. Whatever was occurring around the world had found a way to block her ability and it shook her to the core. This kind of disturbance could mean only one thing.

  “People are scared. They need answers, and I haven’t anything to calm their fears. I worry if we don’t tell them something they will go out looking themselves. If it’s as bad as I feel it is, they’ll only get themselves hurt, even killed,” Michelle added.

  “Have you gone to the sacred grove there?” Ruth asked. She held her bre
ath for the response she knew was coming, her stomach clenched tightly with worry.

  The groves were the cornerstone of their faith, places of infinite power and all they held dear. What looked like ordinary clusters of trees and greenery were in fact magical hot spots—places where the veil between realms was thin. Visitors from other worlds used these portals, and it was the Order’s sacred duty to stand sentinel—guarding mankind from invasion.

  “Yes.” The anxiety in Michelle’s voice was unmistakable. “I made the trip this morning and what I felt there broke my heart. It seems like something is oozing out from the portal, a darkness. I’ve never felt anything like it before, and I pray I never will again. It doesn’t look good. It doesn’t look good at all.”

  There was a pause in the conversation, both waiting for the other to say it. Ruth knew exactly what Michelle had felt—the same disturbing feeling had come over her when she’d visited the grove this morning. The powerful sensation, which usually coursed through her body, giving her clarity in her duties, had left her nauseous and weak. Something was altering the energy balance, distorting it, and Michelle’s report simply confirmed it.

  “They’re coming, aren’t they?” The voice on the other end spoke softly.

  A lump rose in Ruth’s throat as if to stop her from answering the question. She desperately wanted to deny the truth, declare the occurrences as mere fluctuations that meant nothing. She choked on the words and a cold wave of dread sank deep into her heart.