Dark Fae
(Skeleton Key)
By:
Lillian Cartier
Dark Fae
Lillian Cartier
Published by Lillian Cartier
Copyright ©2016 Lillian Cartier
First Edition, ebook - published 2016
Cover Design by J.M Rising Horse Creations
Stock Photo by DepositPhotos.com
Interior Design by Riane Holt
Edited by Barren Acres Editing
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Lillian Cartier
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Tessa James has never been able to figure out the puzzle that is her life, until a mysterious key and a hidden closet lead the way to a realm beyond her imagination. The Fae are real. Magic exists. And Tess’s world has just drastically changed.
Nyx Steele, the leader of the Fae, is ruthless as he is beautiful, especially when it comes to keeping the humans out of his realm. Their role in slaying his people will never be forgotten, even if they stumble on him in the form of an alluring being like Tessa. No matter how strongly he's drawn to her, Nyx must never forget what Tessa's ancestors did to his.
Lost in a land filled with wonder and dangers, Tessa cannot resist her attraction to the enigmatic Nyx. The most breathtaking love she's ever found may also bring her ultimate ruin and death.
Acknowledgements
My husband, my children, and my family that support me in this crazy thing called life. Love is proven to be immeasurable and everything is possible. The sleepless nights, cooked dinners, laundry, and homework do not go unnoticed. Through it all you still love me harder each day and will go to the ends of the earth for me. Every time. I love you doesn’t say nearly enough for how I feel.
Kara, my sister of over ten years (we stop counting after ten years) of friendship! There is not enough space to mention all the shenanigans we’ve gone through and through it all I know we will always support one another and when we are old and pushing one another in wheelchairs, we will still be winning in life with each other by our sides. By the way, I’m declaring love in PRINT. Can you believe this?
Michelle, who would ever guess that what started, as a simple chat over a love of books would turn into us writing collaboration? My bestie in every way! Only you can talk me into taking a leap of faith by bringing these characters to life. The support you’ve shown me in all forms can bring tears to my eyes, so if you can stop making my cry, that would be great. We’ll hug it out. You started it and dedicating this book to you.
Jennifer, Karen, Jenn (woah, there’s two of you) and Riane. You make my work look gorgeous baby! Thank you for letting me drive you insane, it doesn’t go unnoticed and I appreciate you ladies HARD.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
About the Author
I feel the icy cold water soaking through the layers of clothes, as if it’s saturating into my bones. Days like these remind me of how little I have in my life. I trek faster through the rain to get back to my apartment, as quickly as possible, before it gets dark. The neighborhood I live in is not the most ideal; I think the saying is that beggars can’t be choosers. While I may not be begging for anything, I certainly don’t have the luxury to be choosy. I’m grateful to have a roof over my head instead of living on the streets, hiding from the violence of gangs, and avoiding the prostitutes that cave to their pimps.
I’ve minded my own business since I moved here, staying out of everyone’s way. If there is something that I am certain about in life; it’s that I refuse to be kicked and left in a proverbial ditch, and I have a strong will to survive, without having to demean myself. I have seen how those people fall into that rabbit hole, just trying to get by, digging themselves a hole so deep they can’t get themselves out in a world of drugs, sex, and money. While I know that’s not what they want, it’s a matter of survival. Though I want to save them, I need to save myself and get out of my horrible situation first. I won’t resort to that to survive, and I’ll work all day, every day, just to avoid it.
While I didn’t choose this life, I play the hand that I was dealt. I never really had a mom, and I wasn’t lucky enough to be raised in a home filled with love and warmth, full of people that loved one another. That wasn’t how many foster homes worked, and I was never adopted. Most people wanted babies, and I entered the system as a toddler after being found in an empty studio apartment. At any rate, that’s the story they told me at CPS.
Sadly, in many foster homes, the kids are just a paycheck and sometimes see little of the money at all. I had been in a few, and I knew all about the practices of the families. I suppose it just wasn’t meant to be for me to find a real home. After turning eighteen, I left my last awful foster home and never looked back. I wasn’t wanted there. I’m more than elated to at least have my apartment, with a locking door, and a job performing and entertaining the crowds, where I make just enough to get by. I would work as many hours I am given, just not to move backward. I was very lucky to have found all of that right away.
I was singing on a corner in the nicer part of Idaho and working for tips. I didn’t like the way that men would look at me when I did that, but I learned that my looks worked in my favor. They brought in tips. After just a short time, my boss, Calvin, discovered me and was so blown away by my voice that he offered me a job, right there on the
street.
I had been hesitant about the sexual nature of the performance and being half naked, but I needed to get out of the small hotel room that I was scraping by to stay in. Living on the streets scared me too much, and I tried singing and asking for money all day. Some of the offers that had been brought up to me weren’t good, but I never caved and always denied them. I had too much pride not to.
I took Calvin’s offer and within a couple of weeks, I had found my current home.
I walk the final block toward my apartment, and I’m relieved to be almost home, away from the weather that seems to be trying to wash what’s left of me away. I’m a strong person, though; I refuse to be destroyed that easily after working tirelessly seven days a week on stage. I see a guy wearing a brown baseball cap, a dark green canvas coat, and blue jeans sitting in the corner by the stairway. I don’t see him all the time, but I see him often enough that he no longer scares me. I expect him to be here; it’s where he can stay out of the weather and be dry. Away from the group of people that congregate together, harassing one another.
I reach into my soaked backpack and pull out a damp paper bag and hand it to Josh. “There were some leftover bagels from this morning, here you go,” He reaches out and takes the paper bag from me and from the emotion that materializes on his face; I can tell I’ve made his day. I know what it is like to go hungry; having food is so menial to some that they don’t realize what it means to someone with nothing. While Josh and I have come to a first name basis, I don’t trust him enough to let him in my apartment, not to mention anyone else.
Desperation will cause people to possibly act in ways they don’t want to. It’s saddening, but it’s a fact of life. “Thanks, Tess, I appreciate it.” He places the paper bag in his backpack with a small smile, as he pulls his coat a little tighter around his body to keep warm.
“You’re welcome.” I give him a meek smile and begin to head toward my apartment. I feel bad for him, but I remind myself that I need to be safe and not stupid.
I walk into my apartment, lock the door behind me, and turn the lock on the deadbolt. While I may not have much of anything for anyone to steal, I certainly don’t want anyone breaking in. The only thing that’s currently protecting me at the moment from the world is that very locked door.
I quickly rush to the bathroom, needing to bring my body back to a decent temperature. I can’t afford to get sick. I need to work to survive. I turn on the water to the shower, and I begin to strip out of all my wet clothes, tossing them all into the plastic white laundry basket. I climb into the shower and embrace its warmth.
I feel my muscles begin to relax, and soon my teeth are no longer chattering from the cold. I relish under the shower for as long as the hot water is available to me. After scrubbing my body with a bar of soap, as well as lathering the soap to wash and rinse my hair, I’m feeling better by the second. Fifteen minutes into my shower, I begin to feel the water get cold and the small moment of extravagance is gone.
I dry myself off with the threadbare towel I have and towel dry my dark brown hair to the best of my ability. I evaluate myself in the mirror, and while I still appear slightly thin, I’ve gained some weight, and I can thank my boss for giving us lunches at work. I don’t consider myself to be gorgeous, by any means, but my looks have been enough to draw in the crowds with ticket sales, as well as the performance itself, and every bit counts since it was the crowd that provides my paycheck.
I am graced with cerulean eyes, dark brown hair, and olive-colored skin. I can’t say who the features were derived from, but I know I stand out a little more than the norm. I’ve just come to accept what I have and embrace those features, even though I will never know any blood relatives or the history of my family tree. Disheartening as that may be, I can’t dwell on what I can’t control and remind myself never to lose focus.
After sliding into my sweatpants and t-shirt, I grab from the neat pile of clothes I have on the table. I pull out my half of a turkey sandwich I saved from lunch. Sitting in the fold-up chair, I pull my legs underneath me, and relish every bite. Although it’s quiet in my apartment, I can appreciate that I have a ceiling over my head, and I’m much safer here than I am beyond the walls of this building and in the alley. Reaching my arm across the table, I pull the book I borrowed from the library and begin to delve into an imaginary world of vampires, shifters, and Fae. The situations that the characters overcome and the aspect of romance ignites a fire in my imagination and allows me a moment of escape. Knowing that no such things exist, at least in the real world, I can’t help but hope I find that sort of happiness beyond my current situation one day.
I toss the leftover trash into the bin and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth; not even bothering to look at myself in the mirror, as I’m sure exhaustion is setting in. I don’t need a reflection to point out the obvious. I head to my mattress on the floor in the corner of the studio. I lie on the sheet-covered mattress, and begin pulling the comforter over my shoulders before I finish at least another two chapters of my book. Then I delve into sleep, dreaming of one day having a place I can call home, that’s filled with warmth, like the ones that I’ve read about in the books. Not a place that feels empty, cold, and just like another place where I am unwanted. I rarely feel any other way, apart from being onstage.
A big part of myself feels lost, without a foundation, as well as slightly broken from finding my way in life. I can only take a day at a time and be thankful that I’ve been able to make something of myself, as little as it may be. With a deep sigh, I snuggle my head into my pillow to get some rest for another day of preparing to stay up late to entertain the crowds. It will be another day of performing and singing, but that’s what it takes to maintain the bare necessities without completely losing myself. I can want for more, but I’m content with my current situation. I feel my eyelids getting heavy, and I give myself into sleep with the determination that there will be better days ahead.
I’m holding myself up on the rope above the stage, and I begin to hear the rhythmic beat. Feeling my body beginning to move along to the cadence of the song as it takes me over. “Ladies and gentleman! Miss Lola Sin.”
As I’m lowered toward the table above the stage, with a strong movement of my hips, I begin to spin slowly and start the first chord of the song.
Roman sits up from his chair and reaches out for my hand to help me down, while another person takes the rope from me. My performance partner begins a sultry number, catering to the crowd that has paid top dollar for the limited seats available. I hear the crowd whistling and fingers snapping, while I enjoy the moment of luxury. Swaying my hips while I continue to sing the erotic song to the audience, I step off stage and circle my way beside the crowd. I choose a gentleman and lock my eyes with his, placing my hand in front of his mouth. He grabs a hold of the fingertip of my black glove, and I pull my hand out. Stripping my hand free, I work my way down the crowd a little more. I am performing the same routine that I’ve repeated every night for quite some time, and while I love it, sometimes I wonder what happens next for me.
The feeling is empowering to be able to perform in front of an audience, knowing I’m part of the performance, and being able to see the part of myself that’s appreciated. I admit that I was an unknown talent who was lucky enough to be discovered. To be to showcased in front of an audience that is allowing me to be able to survive: physically, emotionally, and mentally. It’s freeing. Removing my other glove, I make a show of swinging it and toss it out to the crowd, and they go nuts. The audience filled with men and women are enjoying themselves. It’s not just the mere sight of undressing, but it’s the singing, the show, and the lights. The entire package is wrapped in a bow, the very reason the people pay the amount they do for the seats to the show.
I strut myself back toward the stage and Roman meets me to help me onto it. Making a meal of my moment in the spotlight, with Roman coming up from behind me and removing my crimson red wrap from around my hips; I’m left w
ith my bikini and matching the red sparkly bra. I sing the final two lines, and Roman strolls up beside me and removes my bra, leaving my breasts exposed with matching red crimson pasties covering my nipples. We take our bows, and the lights turn out, leaving the entire room in darkness as we make our exit off the stage.
I tie the sash of the robe around my waist and place a kiss on Roman’s cheek. “Thanks, Roman.” I pass him a friendly smile.
“Anytime, you know I won’t let you fall,” he replies, as he winks at me with his charming smile. It’s the same smile that makes all of the girls I work with swoon, though I never have.
“I know, and I appreciate that. Means a lot. It’s still scary sometimes hanging onto a rope fifty feet above the stage,” I admit as I anticipate what’s coming next.
“Want to go out for dinner?” I’ve known that he wants more than a working relationship for some time, but I don’t see him as more than a friend that I can trust on stage. Offstage, I like to keep to myself. No one here is aware of my living situation and how I struggle to get by each day. The show is my escape, and I want to be able to enjoy my moment in this spotlight, until I leave here and face the reality of my life.
“Thanks, Roman, I should head home, though. Good night.” I try to reject him kindly as I watch his face fall just a little. It does every time he asks me out after a show.
“Night, Tess.” Disappointment is laced in his voice, and I allow myself to feel bad, just for a moment, before I push it aside. Roman is incredibly handsome, with his dark hair, deep amber eyes, and sinful body that appeals to the ladies in the crowd, as well as some of the men. He's a great guy, but there is no spark with him. Well, at least not on my side. He could have any woman he wants; yet he wants me. I'm not the one for him and hope he finds someone that treats him well.
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