The Complete Tempted Series

by Selene Charles

  “Because he is the physical manifestation of the Wild Hunt. If he sets foot onto Aduaal soil, his dark magic would infect and irrevocably alter fae land. It is safer for all that he remain where he is until the time of the great hunt.”

  Clutching the leather reins with numb fingers, Flint prayed for all she was worth that she wouldn’t fall. Flying from one trapeze to another or walking—even sometimes running—across the tightrope was nothing compared to this.

  Flint loved adrenaline, but this was just nuts. The dragon had sharp teeth. Sharp teeth that could eat her.

  Well, so did Cain when he went all-out rager.

  And the royal guard who’d attacked her.

  And Abel in his freaky form.

  But this was a dragon.

  A. Dragon!

  Totally different kind of scary.

  “For Abel.” She whispered his name like a benediction. Then, tossing her leg across the dragon’s back, she settled herself onto the saddle and tried to ignore the knocking of her knees or the nest of razor-tipped butterfly wings wreaking havoc on her insides. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Crystal chuckled. “Were you anyone else, darkling, I should have eaten you by now.”

  Her eyes widened. “And that’s supposed to calm me down?”

  Nodding, the dragon spread her majestic wings wide. “I bet you’d taste good with salt.”

  “Oh my God!”

  But there was no more time for thought because with one powerful flap, they were airborne and sailing like a speeding missile through the darkened skies.

  Flint screamed. She really did want to be brave. Wanted to act like the badass she currently looked like, but nothing could have prepared her for the sheer speed and power that currently rested between her thighs.

  As time passed however, the stomach-churning anxiety was quickly replaced by the exhilaration of adrenaline she’d once thrived on.

  If she weren’t so afraid of falling a hundred yards to her death below, she’d have spread her arms wide and laughed. Instead she contented herself with closing her eyes and smiling.

  “You like it?” Crystal asked, though it hadn’t really been a question.

  Feeling bolder than she had since arriving, Flint reached beneath the thick ridge plate of one of the dragon’s scales and gave her a light scratch.

  A heavy rumble vibrated through the beast’s massive belly, almost like a purr.

  “I think I could eventually get used to it.”

  “I hope you do, darkling. I hope you do.”

  Flint smiled but wondered why she suddenly felt like frowning at the ominous undertones to those benign words.

  They flew for another half an hour or so before Crystal began to visibly slow her speed, and Flint knew why the moment she spied the dark tower floating upon ominous gray clouds. Lightning and thunder cracked, lighting up the night sky.

  Dark shadows rolled and flew through bolts of lightning. More dragons.

  “So this is—”

  “The House of Dragons, and The Ciardah’s home,” Crystal finished for her.

  Flint nodded. “Right.” She clutched at the reins tighter until her knuckles turned a shade of pasty white. She was about to be sick. Yak all over the pretty dragon scales. She hoped Crystal wouldn’t mind too much.

  But the nausea soon subsided when it hit her that she was finally one step closer to finding and rescuing Abel.

  Crystal landed as gracefully as Flint had expected her to. Her talons didn’t even make a sound as she settled onto the dark marble grounds.

  And if Flint had briefly wondered whether anyone would care that a dragon was escorting her to a castle high up in the sky, she needn’t have bothered. No one even looked her way.

  “What do I do now?” Flint asked, not sure whether she was supposed to jump down or stay put.

  “You stay until your escort arrives. It is never safe for one like you to walk unattended among the fae. Far too many tricksters abound.”

  Yeah, that had totally made her feel much less nervous about being here.

  Not.

  None of the people milling around even glanced up them. Apparently the sight of riders on dragons was so common that it was just another facet of life here.

  That didn’t mean she didn’t study them though. The people weren’t people at all.

  They were fae, she had zero doubt about that. And they were all wildly different-looking.

  Some had skin so black it appeared to be buffed onyx and hair so pale white it gleamed like freshly fallen snow and cascaded down to their ankles in soft waves.

  Others were dressed in the skins of animals, their hair caught up in severe buns. Their faces were hard-looking and austere, apart from electric-blue filigree that ran up their cheeks.

  Some of them were extremely feminine-looking, even the men. Long, angular, and thin as rails with scarlet robes that trailed behind them as they walked like a sea of living blood. Their pale hair was pinned up in the fashion of a Whoville character and had little butterflies flitting around it. They all had tiny, clear iridescent wings on their backs.

  But those were the more human-looking ones. There were other creatures walking around, some that were humanoidish-looking but with fawn legs and goat horns curling up from their broad foreheads. Others had four arms and four legs and were covered in a fine dusting of black fur.

  They looked a little like spiders.

  Ugh, she hated spiders.

  Flint turned her face aside; it was probably bad form to barf because of being freaked out by how weird everyone looked here. Course, that was kind of throwing stones at glass houses, considering she looked none too normal herself right now.

  That’s when she noticed two men headed her direction and looking directly at her.

  One had pale skin and black hair that fell to his shoulders. His features were sharp but weren’t unattractive. His face was longish but also exotic-looking. He had slashing eyebrows and cheekbones, a regal nose, and nice lips that fit his face perfectly. About every thirty seconds or so his hair would pulse with what looked like a flash of white light.

  It was strange but also hypnotically beautiful. Kind of reminded her of the deep-sea fish she’d seen do something similar in a nature documentary once. Pretty but deadly. He was dressed in black leather and buckles and wore a black robe that trailed along the ground as he walked.

  The other man was very tall, a full head taller than the dark one. He was thin too, but not skeletal. He was muscled, but the kind of skinny muscled that a boy from high school who did sports but didn’t lift weights might be.

  He wore no shirt, just dark leather leggings with a belt full of hand axes attached to it. His skin was the pale washed-out color like a zombie might have; it had grayish undertones to it, which should have made him hideous.

  But he wasn’t. At all.

  Even the ugly fae were freakishly alluring. Though blondie wasn’t ugly. Just different.

  Like her.

  Hm, what a weird thought. They were just like her, or, she was just like them. Either way, she was one of them now, like it or not. Freakishly beautiful. Maybe she’d tattoo that on herself when she finally got back home. The thought made her smile, and she wondered what Cain would think.

  There were black markings all over blondie’s body, an intricate scrollwork of designs that caught the eye and made one want to stare to try to figure out if there was a pattern to it.

  His hair was long like the rest of them, but instead of being dark or pale, it was golden. Literally gleaming like gold, and poking out from it were the tips of his ears.

  Flint almost smiled to see them. If she’d ever imagined what a dark fae would look like, this was what she’d have envisioned. His face was beautiful. Not harsh or severe at all.

  Like supermodel gorgeous really, except pale. And his eyes were a strange hypnotic amber that seemed to shift from dark to light as he walked.

  Around his neck he wore a necklace of polished stone with the skull of a
small bird attached to it. His movements reminded her of a predator—feline, deadly, and yet graceful.

  When the pair came to a stop in front of her, she had to swallow hard. Her vines danced around.

  The dark one narrowed his eyes. But the blond was looking at her with a strange, silent intensity that made her want to wiggle on her seat.

  “Crystal.” The dark one nodded at the dragon. “Is she the one?”

  The fact that he addressed the dragon and not her royally pissed Flint off. She really hated being talked around.

  “If by she you mean me”—she tapped her chest—“then yes, I’m me. Where’s my friend?”

  The blond’s lips curled at the corners just slightly. She flicked a glance at him, irritated that he wasn’t talking to her either.

  The dark one’s gaze rolled up and down her body insolently. “You are halfling, of that I do not doubt.”

  “She is the one.” Crystal spoke in the dulcet tones Flint had grown accustomed to. “I sense it.”

  “Yes, well, sensing and knowing are two different things. Show proof or die.” The dark one’s face never even cracked into a smile.

  “You’re joking, right?” Flint snapped. “Like you’re freaking kidding me right now. Did you seriously just threaten me?”

  Pissed off, irritated, annoyed, desperate to get at Abel… Flint was all those things, and right now she wasn’t thinking too clearly. Maybe if she were, she wouldn’t have rammed a thorny vine into the dark one’s thigh until black blood leaked down in large rivulets.

  The vine sucked it up as quickly as it appeared, like it was eating it.

  That was gross.

  Darkie glared down at the vine and flicked it away like someone would swat at a gnat. Then he began to whistle, and Flint squeaked when suddenly ten large knives, and by large she meant the blades were as long as her forearm, were suddenly pointed directly at her. One of them was even pressing the very tip of itself into the hollow of her throat.

  “Holy effing!” Her spine stiffened.

  “Have you the Sword of Truth?” Blondie finally spoke up, all calm and cool as a cucumber.

  Not like he was worried about the knives pressing deeper into her flesh at the moment. Oh no, Mr. Hottie totally wasn’t being the white knight here.

  Glaring frostily at the both of them, she snapped, “If you’d just said so from the beginning, you rotten bastards.”

  And then on a wing and a prayer she silently begged for that stupid sword to appear in her hand, like right now. Not that it ever had listened to her before.

  But a mighty crack of thunder was followed by a burst of brilliant white lightning that struck at their feet. And when the smoke cleared, in her hand rested the gleaming Sword of Truth.

  Flint almost gasped to see it.

  Back at the carnival it’d just been a regular sword. Nothing all that special about it. But here she felt a wave of life emanate from inside it through her palm. From its tip shot sparks of energy, like mini Tesla volts.

  At once, both fae bowed, along with all the others inside the courts. They turned in her direction and genuflected deeply.

  The show embarrassed her a little. She wasn’t sure whether to do a queenly wave, nod, or turn up her nose like she was too good for them.

  So she did nothing.

  She was having an awful lot of these “don’t know what to do moments,” and Flint desperately wished there was a manual on all this. How to Act Like a Fae Princess for Dummies. Maybe she’d write it someday.

  She was wondering if there’d be a market for that sort of thing when she noticed several of the eyes on her now gleamed with something akin to avarice.

  Regardless of the fact that she was apparently the granddaughter of a very famous fae, there was nothing at all safe about this court. She sensed it immediately.

  Ironically enough, she’d not wanted to ride the dragon here, and now she didn’t want to get off her. Weird, but she felt safer with the beast than without her.

  The two fae before her stood, and darkie said, “I am Kestrel. He is Idris. Follow us.”

  Kestrel turned on his heel and led the way, but Idris lingered, waiting for her to come down. It took a little maneuvering not to flash the vajayjay when she lifted her leg over the saddle. She hadn’t realized she was wearing no undies till just now. Thankfully she didn’t shame herself and instead practically floated down on a cloud of fall-colored leaves toward the ground.

  Idris winked at her before turning and following Beelzebub—aka Kestrel.

  He was such a rotten bastard.

  Feeling a lot like a sideshow freak on display as she marched behind them, she channeled her best resting bee-yatch face and tried to act like she wasn’t about to pee her pants (or robes in this case) from nerves.

  She was so preoccupied with not looking at anyone or anything that by the time she realized she should have been paying attention to where they were taking her—in case she needed to beat a hasty exit—she was so turned around and lost that she knew she was in deep dog doo.

  She was by herself in this mega labyrinth of a castle with God only knew what for relatives.

  Clutching at her stomach, she sniffed a second later when the stone halls suddenly seemed overwhelmingly full of roses.

  “Shut your spores down, mutt, or you’ll kill us all.”

  Ten guesses who’d just said that to her, and the first nine didn’t count. She wished she had laser eyes like Superman instead of just lame spores, ’cause she’d totally cut that jerk Kestrel’s jewels in half.

  Flint was gnashing her back teeth and dreaming up ways to make him pay. Somehow Idris had slowed down without her noticing and was now walking only a half step ahead of her.

  “Do not mind Kestrel,” he said in a low whisper. “He is the head guard of your grandfather’s hunt and—”

  “Has a giant stick shoved up his ass?” She turned and smiled sweetly at the dark fae whose pretty amber eyes widened for a fraction of a moment before his full lips twitched into a ghost of a smile.

  “Something like that.” He nodded and shook his head.

  She was pretty sure she’d just amused him. Rolling her eyes, she sighed. “Yeah, pretty sure I got that memo loud and clear.”

  They made a turn down another long hall. The people walking around them looked, but it was strange because no one said anything to her. They all whispered heatedly between themselves. They noticed her all right, but no one even tried to make her feel welcome.

  Not that she’d really expected it, but…

  She need a friend here. An ally. And right now it was blondie or nothing.

  Squaring her shoulders, she held out her hand to him. The buds on her nails had blossomed and were a deep blackish-red color. Very pretty actually if they’d not like… yanno, been attached to her hands and stuff.

  Thank God Cain couldn’t see her like this right now.

  “I’m Flint. It’s nice to meet you by the way.”

  Idris studied her hand for a moment, his brows twitching in confusion, and then slowly he extended his own hand to her. His fingers were warm when they latched onto hers, and it was the strangest thing but the roses pulsed under his touch.

  Not like glowed or anything, but they sort of… well, breathed for lack of a better word. Like they’d literally taken a deep breath.

  Idris’s lips stretched into a megawatt smile, and while she could appreciate the fact that the fae was stupid hot, she didn’t get the crazy heart flutters she did when she was around Cain.

  “Flint.” He said her name like he was tasting it, then shook his head. He still hadn’t let her hand go. But she kind of liked his touch. It was the first nice thing that’d happened to her since falling down the rabbit hole. She felt strangely safe with the half-naked, emo-gothed and tatted-out lumberjack.

  “That is The Ciardah’s favored mineral. Though I’d assumed you go by the moniker Callisto. As that is your true name.”

  So he liked flint stone. It wasn’t the b
est intel so far as intel went, but it was a start. Learning anything about these people was important right now.

  “Never been called Callisto in my life, and I don’t plan to start now. The name’s Flint and always has been to me.”

  “Well then, Flint.” He nodded. “It is a pleasure making your acquaintance.”

  Why did she not believe that?

  “Hmm,” she mumbled.

  The markings she’d noticed earlier on Idris were definitely wonky; they were moving on him. And not because he was walking. They were literally moving, like undulating snakes beneath his skin.

  That was the moment she grew aware that her own markings were moving. The vines beneath her flesh were dancing.

  His amber eyes focused on her arm, and his fingers on hers tightened infinitesimally. But it was enough to finally make her take her hand back.

  She gave him an awkward grin when she did it. “Fingers were going a little numb.”

  Total lie.

  She wiggled them for show and then tucked her hand tight to her thigh, breathing just a little choppier than before. Their markings stopped moving almost simultaneously.

  What the heck was going on?

  He flexed his own hand, shook his head, and seemed in a strange daze. Flint should probably have just left him to his own devices, but she’d never really been good at ignoring a problem, and whatever that had just been, it was a problem.

  “Hey,” she said and then dropped her voice when Kestrel turned to look at her over his shoulder.

  His shrewd eyes glanced between her and Idris.

  She didn’t want him getting any ideas, so she snapped, “You plan to walk me to death or are we almost there yet?”

  With an indignant snort, he turned, ignoring her completely as he continued marching.

  “Yeah, I hate you too, loser.” She crossed her arms.

  That fae totally brought out the snark in her. But he was such a jerk, who could blame her?

  She sensed the moment Idris’s attention was back on her before he’d even spoken. And it wasn’t because she could see him from the corner of her eye but because she felt the tug of him inside her.

  She sucked in a sharp breath at that strange thought and stopped in her tracks. What the eff was happening to her?