by Raine Thomas
RISE OF THE FAIRE-AMANTI
by
Raine Thomas
Published by Iambe Books, LLC
This book is an original publication of Iambe Books, LLC.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 Raine Thomas.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without the express written permission of the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials.
Visit the author's website: http://www.RaineThomas.com
Cover design by Regina Wamba of www.MaeIDesign.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
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 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
This book is dedicated to Debbie and Hannah, who have shown me that friendships can form even across great distances, and strength and inspiration can come from the most unlikely places.
Acknowledgements
Writing the third book in a series is rarely easy, and Rise of the Faire-Amanti was no exception. There’s a lot of pressure to tie up loose ends and write an ending that satisfies readers. That pressure threw some blocks my way as I worked on the ROTFA outline, but with some help from my cheerleaders, I pushed through and crafted a story that I think readers will love.
Thank you to Debbie Prins, my constant source of support. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you brainstorming with me and doing everything you can to pimp my books. You alternately patted my hand and cracked the whip whenever I needed it. Without you, I’d probably still be outlining Chapter 3.
Thank you to my beta readers: Diane Kaye, Marilyn Jeulin-Almodóvar, Roy Bronson, Bethany Lopez, and Jessica Lind-Wentz. Even at the last minute, you all came through for me and helped make this book as polished as possible. I’m so grateful for your careful eyes and every opinion you bring to the table.
Great big heaps of gratitude go out to my street team, Raine’s Stormers. You’ve made me realize how foolish I was for not forming a street team sooner. Thank you for all of the promos you share, the time you spend on Stormer tasks, the love you give my characters and my books, and your friendship.
Thank you so much to my husband, Kevin, and daughter, Faith. Finishing this book required a lot of time away from you, which is the hardest part about my writing career. I love you both and truly appreciate your constant support and encouragement.
And thank you to my fans for taking this wild ride across the galaxy with me. I can’t wait to hear what you think after you’ve finished Kyr and Ty’s story!
Chapter 1
“Your cousin Sem is dead,” Vycor sneered.
Ty tried to move, but he couldn’t. Vycor’s Mynders had ambushed him. He was strapped to one of the seats in the palace’s Ritual Chamber…the same seat he had sat in while he mentally tortured Vycor just a couple of lunar cycles before.
They had been so close to defeating the Advisor. His demise had been within their grasp. There had been just one misstep.
One deadly misstep.
“He died screaming for mercy,” Vycor said as he laid out implements beside the altar in the center of the chamber. “He cursed your name, TaeDane. He knew it was your fault that he suffered so long before death claimed him.”
“You’re lying,” Ty growled. He knew Sem had gotten out of the palace.
He had to have gotten out.
“Am I?”
At a silent command, one of the Mynder guards standing in the chamber brought forth a basket. Ty’s stomach clenched when he saw the blood leaking out of the basket’s bottom and dripping onto the floor, but he controlled his reaction so Vycor couldn’t see his wariness. Without any preamble, the guard dumped the basket at Ty’s feet. Sem’s head flopped out, splashing gore onto Ty’s boots.
“He was still alive when we dismembered him,” Vycor said conversationally, his gaze on Ty’s face. “In fact, his ‘member’ was one of the first things I cut off. I’ll have to be even more inventive when I kill you.”
Horror blended with rage and grief, gripping Ty around the throat as he stared at Sem’s ghastly expression. Forcing his gaze away from it, he tried to reach out with his mind. He had to connect with Kyr. He had to warn her.
But his thoughts were blank. No one was hearing them.
“Oh, I’m hearing them,” Vycor assured him. “I’m stronger now than you ever were. You’ll admit it before I’m done with you.”
Ty shook his head. This couldn’t be. He was the Faire-Amanti. He and Kyr were paired. They were fated to be together. Their abilities were stronger than Vycor’s. Than anyone’s.
Weren’t they?
“You are such a fool,” Vycor laughed. “I can’t wait to have you pleading and sniveling like your cousin did. I imagine you’ll feel as though you’ve died at least twice once I finish with your amanti. You do feel everything she does, don’t you?”
Ty went utterly still. His heart dropped, then thudded painfully against his breastbone. His palms tingled with panicked sweat. Once again, he sent out a desperate thought to Kyr. He had to protect her.
“She can’t hear your thoughts,” Vycor said, his smile lethal. “But fear not.”
The chamber doors opened, admitting more Mynders. Ty’s head jerked in their direction. Then it moved from side to side in slow denial.
“Ah, here she is,” Vycor said, watching as the Mynders placed Kyr’s unconscious form on the altar. “This will be fun.”
Ty strained against his bonds as Vycor reached for the fastenings of Kyr’s lightweight armor. Although he had vowed not to let Vycor see any signs of weakness, he shouted, “Don’t touch her!”
“Oh, I intend to do much more than just touch her.” Vycor smirked as the first of Kyr’s armor hit the floor. “I intend to take her as many times as I please in whatever ways I please, and I imagine a number of the Mynders in
this room would enjoy a turn, too.”
Ty didn’t have to look around to sense the lecherous expressions of the guards over Vycor’s dark promise. His muscles burned and protested as he pulled against his bonds. He watched helplessly as Vycor completely disrobed Kyr and secured her wrists and ankles to the far corners of the altar.
“We can’t enjoy ourselves if she sleeps through it, can we?” Vycor said.
He reached over into the satchel on the side table and pulled out a small snifter. Removing the top, he waved it under Kyr’s nose. Ty’s own nose burned as Kyr jerked away from the source of the pungent smell. Her low moan sent fear clawing through him.
“Leave her alone!” Ty begged. “Take me instead!”
Vycor chuckled. “Oh, we’ll get to that. But first…”
He slapped Kyr. The sharp strike made Ty flinch. Kyr gasped and fully opened her eyes. As realization set in, her gut iced in terror. Ty felt it blend with his own.
“Stop!” he cried hoarsely. He knew it was useless and only served to spur Vycor on, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I’ll do anything you ask!”
“It’s too late for that,” Vycor replied, removing his robe and revealing his heavy state of arousal.
“What are you doing?” Kyr choked out. Chains rattled as she tried to free herself. Her gaze moved to Ty. “Ty, help me!”
I can’t, he thought uselessly, but he pulled hard enough on his own bonds to feel blood trickling along his wrists. His eyes blurred as Vycor climbed up onto the altar.
Now, I’ll finally take everything from you, TaeDane, Vycor thought.
“Help me!” Kyr screamed. “Ty!”
* * *
Ty jerked awake. Sweat coated his skin. Moisture that might not have been sweat dripped along his temples onto his pillow. His tensed muscles slowly eased as his mind accepted that he’d been dreaming.
Again.
The dream had started not long after Kyr met up with him in the Dark Lands. At first, it was nothing more than flashes of images and a sense of defeat and powerlessness. With each new incarnation of the dream, though, more details appeared. The sequence of events never changed. It just got more and more vivid and intense.
He reached shakily for Kyr, who still slept soundly beside him. Battling the sharp blade of desolation that threatened to slice into his soul, he pulled her against him and wrapped her in his arms. She slept on, oblivious to his torment.
The light, familiar fragrance of her hair helped calm him, but not much. The fear from the dream haunted him, and would stay with him for a long time to come. There would be no more sleep for him that night.
How could he sleep when he suspected that such a specific recurring scene wasn’t a dream, but a vision of things yet to come?
Chapter 2
The sword whistled past Kyr’s head with enough force to blow loose strands of hair away from her face. Perspiration kept other strands firmly plastered against her temples. Salty drops of sweat fell like tears from her long, dark lashes into her eyes, making her swipe impatiently at her brow with a gloved hand as she whirled to once again face her opponents.
Gren, correcting his balance after the sword swing, circled her to the right. His copper colored eyes were intent on her as he anticipated her next move. It was a small consolation that his ruggedly handsome features were glistening with sweat, too.
Kyr’s amanti, Ty, on the other hand, looked as though he was a casual observer in this skirmish, even though he had done the majority of the attacking. He had yet to break a sweat or breathe harder than normal. He wasn’t even using a weapon, wanting her to learn how to defend herself against any form of attack. Kyr knew his apparent lack of strain was a result of the enhanced physical strength and endurance he had inherited as the Dem-Shyr, the male fated to protect her, the Ascendant. Those abilities had been enhanced as their relationship deepened. As the Faire-Amanti, he now appeared invincible.
And sexy as hell.
But appearances can be deceiving, she thought, looking between the two males. He may be sexy as hell, but he isn’t invincible.
Ty flashed a grin, reading the thoughts like they were his own. Indeed, their thoughts were now almost impossible to keep from one another, so deep was their connection. That made it even more challenging to try and defeat him.
And that was her goal. Even though this was meant to be another lesson in defense, she wanted to bring her opponents down.
You’ll have to try much harder to do that, Gren mused, easily rolling out of the way when she swiped at him with one of the Oro blades she held.
Ty tried to take advantage of her position after the attempted strike, but she anticipated the move, using her momentum to dive into a roll across the practice chamber floor and briskly regaining her feet a safe distance from either male. Rather than remain there for them to approach, she took the offensive, launching into another diving roll and bringing her practice blades up towards Gren’s midsection. He grunted as he swung his sword down to deflect the attack. The loud sound of clashing blades echoed off the stone walls of the cavernous practice chamber.
He pushed her off-balance, sending her into another roll. She knew better than to stay still after regaining her feet. The moment she rose, she continued forward and then whipped around, her blades at the ready. Ty’s leg swept past where she would have ended up if she hadn’t moved. She saw the corner of his mouth turn up with approval when he realized he’d missed her.
During their training sessions, Kyr refrained from using her mental abilities to read her opponents’ moves, knowing she had to learn how to defend herself if thoughts were blocked from her. Ty actually insisted on this with a vehemence that made her understand how important it was to him. Weariness was etching itself into her bones, though. If she wanted to come out the victor for a change, she was going to have to use the skills she had at her disposal.
Tut, tut, Gren censured, likely feeling her mind touching on his. That’s hardly fair, Ma’jah.
Fighting a smile, she retorted, Neither is two against one. Just consider this leveling the playing field.
Gren’s scarred eyebrow rose as Ty shook his head. She allowed the thoughts of both males to fill her mind. While it seemed a good idea in theory, it was harder than she imagined to filter their actions from their rambling thoughts. Each of them considered and dismissed a number of possible approaches before finally moving. It was impossible to know exactly how to react, and she came close to getting disarmed a few times.
Frustrated, she circled back to the center of the chamber, keeping both males in sight. A memory occurred to her, one where she was training with Ty’s cousin, Sem. She had used her abilities to intuit his movements. But she hadn’t been as mentally strong then, and she hadn’t had the same level of connection to him at the time as she did now to Gren and Ty. She realized that she had been relying on a more subtle part of her abilities, one based more on instinct and a sort of promotion than on actual thought-reading.
She tamped down on her abilities, narrowing her focus so that she wasn’t listening to their thoughts. Her body went into a state of hyper-alertness. When they moved, she moved. None of their strikes came close to catching her off-guard. And then with a feint and a low kick, she brought Gren down to the ground.
“Ha!” she shouted as she disarmed him. “Take that!”
He grimaced as she grinned down at him with her practice blades held at his throat. “I’m getting too old for this,” he muttered.
“Don’t give me that,” she snorted. “You live for this stuff.”
Her gaze lifted to Ty as he approached. She wasn’t sure if he intended to continue their training session or not. She started to ask him when she noticed his gaze flicker over her shoulder. She sensed the new presence too late to react.
A sharp blade hissed near her ear before it settled at her throat.
“Next time, assume your opponent has additional backup,” advised a cool female voice.
Gren’s lover, Scarlyt, ha
d joined the lesson.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kyr said, slowly rising from her position over Gren.
Ty strode over to her, taking her arm and giving Scarlyt a long look until she removed the dagger. “Why weren’t you paying more attention?” he asked Kyr as he pulled her a few steps away.
Surprised by the heat in his tone, she blinked before replying, “I should have been. I guess I let my success get to my head.”
“You can’t do that,” he said, his eyes intense and his grip on her arm firm. “If this had been real—”
“It wasn’t,” she interrupted, puzzling over the anxiety she read in his thoughts. Ty, what is this about?
He shook his head and released her arm, shielding his thoughts from her. “I just want you to be more careful. We don’t know what we’ll face when we finally get through the protections.”
“Enemies come in many forms, Ma’jah,” Scarlyt warned as she helped Gren to his feet.
Her tone was emotionless, making Kyr wonder if she was implying herself. Everyone in the room knew that Scarlyt held no particular affection for her. Although Kyr wished it was otherwise, she could understand the other female’s feelings. Because of Kyr, Scarlyt had been banished to the Dark Lands with all of the other Outcasts, leaving Gren thinking she was dead.