Crimes of Fire (Wayward Fae Paranormal Prison Book 1)

by J. N. Colon

  I squeezed my thumb in an attempt to dislocate it. A slew of curses broke free. The movies made this look so much easier.

  Faolan released my leg, his sickle claws tapping the tile again. He’d go for my throat next. And then I’d be done.

  “Are you going to let your alpha have all the fun, Maria?” I taunted. “Still can’t beat me in a fight?”

  A sneer stretched her mouth unnaturally wide as she marched closer. “You’re seconds away from dying, seelie-dae. I could wipe the floor with your ass.”

  I let out a strangled laugh. “Without Faolan to soften me up, you couldn’t touch me.” This might be the dumbest thing I’d ever done or it might save my life. Hot breath licked at my nape as Faolan loomed above. I didn’t have much time.

  “You are nothing but a piece of trash.” Maria lifted her foot, going straight for my face.

  At the last second, I lifted my hand and angled my thumb toward her. Please work.

  A loud pop resonated and pain blasted through my extremity. I cried out, half in agony and half in joy. She’d dislocated my thumb. I ripped the bracelet off, screaming as it tore through my flesh. The metal clanked against the floor beneath me.

  The daemons in the bathroom shifted uneasily as my elemental magic soaked into the air. Faolan and Maria were too locked on their prey to notice.

  I whipped around as Faolan’s teeth brushed my neck. Fire sped through my veins, and I released it on the shifter.

  He rolled frantically across the floor to put out the flames converging over his body. A crimson glow bled into his eyes, and I could have sworn smoke puffed from his nostrils.

  I scrambled into a sitting position, slipping on my own blood splashing the tiles. A hand suddenly tangled in my hair to yank my head back. Maria appeared above, her face elongated and fangs dropping from her mouth.

  My pulse shot through the roof. On instinct, I lifted my hand, pulling a flame into my palm. I shoved it into her chest.

  Maria’s scream slammed against my skull, and she dropped me. Some of the daemons disappeared into a whirl of black smoke and shadows. Damn. I wish I could remember how to shadowmeld.

  A large mass crashed into me and smashed my head against the floor. Before I even had time to react, Faolan’s thick claws dug deep gashes into my stomach.

  This time I was the one to let out an ear-piercing shriek. Blinding white light flashed across my vision. A metallic taste filled my mouth. Another tear across my abdomen had my body convulsing.

  Faolan’s terrifying face came into view. Wet splashes coated the black and red scales of the dragon head. My blood. His forked tongue flicked out, licking his lips. Saliva dripped down.

  This couldn’t be it. I wouldn’t die like this.

  I lifted my hand while fire stirred within my core. My teeth gritted as I willed it to the surface, begged it even. Flames licked at my fingertips.

  Faolan smirked. He knew it wasn’t enough.

  My lids fluttered. I faltered. The dochar’s hot breath melted down my neck.

  And then the weight of his massive body vanished. Tile exploded, crashing to the ground like a bomb had gone off. Shouts echoed through the bathroom. A sweltering fire followed by wintry ice hit the air.

  What happened? I couldn’t lift my head. My body felt like a thousand pounds. The pain had turned to numbness, and a chill crawled over my skin.

  That wasn’t a good sign.

  My head drifted to the side. Trails of crimson ran across the dingy tile, swirling down the drain. There was a lot of blood. Too much.

  My lids closed. Jilly’s face swam into focus. She was crying, pleading for me to wake up. But I couldn’t. The fog was so thick.

  “Sloane! Sloane, wake up!” A sharp sting whipped across my cheek.

  My lids fluttered open. Locks so dark they held a blue sheen framed a pair of burning white eyes that were as comforting as they were terrifying.

  “Stay with me.” The guy ripped his shirt off and pressed the warm material against my stomach. “Stay with me, Sloane.”

  I knew him—that voice, that piercing stare. Most of the time it was full of loathing. But right now, panic was all I could find.

  “Vik?” I mumbled through cold lips.

  “Yes, it’s me.” His arm slipped under my neck to pull me into his body.

  A sigh left my mouth as I snuggled into his warmth. Shadows crept along the edges of my vision. My eyes closed. I couldn’t hold on any longer.

  “No! Stay with me. Sloane! Sloane…”

  Air exited my lungs as every ounce of strength left my body. I floated, weightless and in the dark. The world melted away. I thought I’d be at peace when I died, but loneliness was my only companion. I failed my sister.

  Chapter 21

  I swam through thick, viscous mud, my limbs barely able to move in the heavy silt. My body hovered near the top but never broke the surface. Voices slithered into focus and penetrated the sludge clouding my brain.

  “She’s too far gone for a seelie to heal.” The man’s lyrical voice swirled around me. I didn’t recognize it. “She’s lost too much blood.”

  “Give her more.” That rough growl belonged to Viktor Hale. “As much as she needs.”

  “I’ve tried. It’s not working.”

  “What do you mean it’s not working?” Viktor demanded.

  What was going on? Why couldn’t I open my eyes?

  I fought more of the fog, trying to claw my way out. A dull throb radiated across my entire body.

  What happened?

  The last thing I remembered was hearing Kimber scream. A daemon had her. I chased Eros into the bathroom. It had all been a trap…

  A beast. Lethal talons. Blood. So much blood…

  Hot pain lashed across my abdomen. My body trembled. What was that sound?

  “What’s happening to her?” A large hand rested on my forehead. Viktor.

  “I’m sorry, sir. She’s dying.”

  No. I didn’t want to die. I had to protect my sister. I had to save her.

  A whimper left my mouth. I tried to talk, beg them to help me, but agony rippled over my body until I couldn’t breathe.

  “Sloane is rejecting every drop of blood I’ve tried to give her,” the stranger said.

  “What do you mean, Mixon?” Viktor’s gruff tone resonated closer now, as if he hovered right over me.

  Mixon? What a weird name.

  “Her body is literally pushing it out.” He paused. “That’s why blood is spilled all over the floor.”

  I whimpered again as another bout of searing pain took me over.

  Viktor cursed and a loud clatter echoed. “This can’t be happening. There has to be a way.”

  “Destroying my examination room is not the answer.”

  A groan slipped out. The hot fire over my center doubled. Shit. I wanted to hurl.

  “Give her something for the pain.” Viktor’s hand returned to my forehead, brushing a sweaty strand of hair off. “She’s feverish.”

  A sharp sting penetrated my arm, and then a cool sensation seeped through my veins. The burning numbed. Much better.

  “Sloane is a seelie-dae, but she’s not accepting seelie or daemon blood,” Mixon said. “And we don’t have a supply of her kind.”

  A slew of curses spilled out of Viktor. I expected to hear more crashes. Instead, the warmth from his body lingered over me. Citrus and rain swirled up my nose, masking the scent of blood.

  “Try mine.”

  “Your blood?” Mixon sputtered. “I’ve already tried unseelie, and it produced the same results.”

  “I’m different.” Viktor’s hand left my forehead. “I’m a prince. My blood is royal. I come from nothing but royals.”

  Mixon hummed for several long seconds. “I don’t know, sir.”

  “We have to try something,” Viktor barked out. “She’s my best shot.”

  Best shot? Best shot at what?

  “We’ll try it. Have a seat.” A harsh metallic screech boomed in
my ears like a chair being dragged across the floor. “I’ll get you hooked up, but we’ll need to hurry. She doesn’t have much time.”

  The fog began to thicken, pulling me under again. No. I needed to stay. I needed to know why Viktor was fighting so hard to save me. What was I his best shot at?

  My lids fluttered open to an unfamiliar white ceiling. A beeping throbbed against my skull. I lifted my hand to rub my forehead, noticing a long tube taped to the back.

  Why did I have an I.V.?

  I took several shaky breaths to force the haze away. A horrific beast swam into my mind.

  Faolan.

  He attacked me along with Maria and some daemon friends. I pushed the white blanket down and yanked up my shirt to see thin white scars crossing my torso. That was all that remained of the vicious gashes his sickle claws created.

  Panic sank through my chest, wrapping around every vital organ. How was that possible? My stomach had been shredded. So much blood streaked the bathroom floor.

  Blood.

  A vague memory of two guys talking over me rose to the surface. My body had rejected every type of blood. And then someone volunteered his because he was different. Royal.

  Air syphoned from my lungs. Viktor had given his blood to save me. And it worked.

  I ripped the I.V. and the heart monitor off, scrambling out of bed. My knees buckled, and I headed toward the floor. How long had I been in the medical ward?

  “Woah. Take it easy, Ms. Warren.” A tall, slim man caught my waist and eased me back on to the edge of the bed.

  I pushed him off, my nostrils flaring.

  He showed his palms and took a step back like I was a skittish animal ready to attack. “Calm down. I’m Mixon, the prison doctor.”

  Mixon. That had been the guy talking with Viktor.

  Pointed ears poked through sandy blonde waves cascading around slanted, mossy green eyes. His skin held a slight sheen. Elf. I could definitely sense that.

  “What happened?” The words came out raspy and dry.

  “Faolan attacked you.” He stepped closer and produced a small flashlight from his shirt pocket. “I’d like to check your vitals.”

  I allowed Mixon to close the distance between us, and his warm fingers pressed on my wrist. “You were in pretty bad shape when you were brought in.”

  “Viktor.” I winced from the rawness in my throat. “He brought me.”

  Mixon blinked. “You remember that?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s good.” He waved the light in my eyes and flinched at whatever he saw.

  My pulse spiked. “What is it?”

  “Nothing to worry over. You’re fine.”

  Yeah. A little too fine. My thumb was neither dislocated anymore nor did it hurt in the least. “How long have I been here?”

  “Two days.” Mixon dropped the light back into his pocket. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness. I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

  Fae healed fast, but two days wasn’t long enough for these severe wounds to close. I’d been knocking on death's door. He even answered and my foot had crossed the threshold.

  “Viktor’s blood did just the trick.”

  Mixon’s head tilted to the side. “Uh, yes. You recall that?”

  “Sort of. It’s hazy.” I rubbed my forehead, a slight throb crawling behind my skull. Something else pushed at my senses. A presence.

  My breath quickened as my attention pulled to the door. Viktor stood on the other side.

  How did I know that?

  Mixon continued to speak, but none of his words made it past the panic clawing inside. Something was not right with me. I should be dead. I shouldn’t be able to feel Viktor Hale either.

  “Get in here, Viktor,” I blurted. “I know you’re there.”

  Mixon sputtered and his gaze flicked to the door. “I—uh—why would you think that?”

  I didn’t think it. I knew it.

  Another beat passed before the door opened to allow Viktor’s wide frame through. Dark circles bruised beneath his eyes while his hair and prison uniform were severely disheveled. He looked exhausted. Was it from being in the hole or something else?

  “How did you get out of solitary confinement?” I asked, wincing again. I must have screamed for hours. “How did you know about Faolan?”

  Viktor gave a noncommittal shrug. “I got lucky on both accounts.”

  Luck had nothing to do with it. I opened my mouth to prod him more, but a familiar feeling hit my gut. Holy shit. I needed to pee.

  As soon as I stood, the room morphed into a Tilt-A-Whirl ride. Mixon grabbed my shoulders and tried to force me back to the bed. “Get off me!”

  “Mix, it’s okay.” Viktor stepped closer, studying me. “She probably has to use the bathroom.”

  How did he know that?

  I ignored the nagging sensation in the back of my mind. “Where is it?”

  Mixon pointed to a door on the left, and I had to choke back a groan because those couple of feet seemed like miles. I unsteadily made my way over on weak, trembling legs. Thank God I wasn’t in one of those open back hospital gowns. The prison uniform of gray pants and white tank top covered most of my body.

  I closed the door and shuffled to the toilet. My body ached fiercely, especially my torso. It felt like I’d been in a car accident. Everything hurt.

  After finishing, I slowly ambled to the sink to wash my hands, keeping my attention locked on the white basin. A fist tightened in my throat as I thought about looking in the mirror. What would be staring back? I dried my hands and halted, my throat clamping shut. I couldn’t avoid it any longer. My gaze slowly lifted.

  Snarls of auburn hair tangled around my pale face. Dark circles discolored the delicate skin beneath my eyes. And my eyes? They were a problem.

  The bright emerald ring still encircled the irises—nothing different there—but the silver flecks speckling the violet orbs were definitely new additions. They twinkled like stars, making my eyes more luminescent, especially in the light.

  The silver flecks hadn’t been there before Viktor gave me his blood. Now I knew why the doctor was so surprised when he shined his flashlight in my face.

  What. The. Fuck.

  I wrenched the door open and stumbled out. Viktor and Mixon were huddled together, whispering. “Someone better explain this crap.” I pointed to my eyes. “And don’t tell me I’m imagining things.”

  Mixon straightened and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t look a day over twenty-four. “Well, I’m sure that will fade. It must be a side effect of Viktor’s donation. Fae races don’t normally share blood. This was a shot in the dark, a last hope.”

  “Why did his blood work and nothing else?” I grabbed the wall for support as my legs wobbled. Viktor remained silent, but I was hyper-aware of him. I felt his every move, his every breath. That wasn’t all in my head, right? I hadn’t developed some psychosis, had I?

  “We’re not really sure.” The elf doctor glanced at the unseelie prince. “Viktor is a very powerful Fae. Pure royal Fae blood can be traced back for generations. It appears as though the magic in it was capable of adapting to your body unlike the blood belonging to weaker candidates.”

  My hand went to my chest to feel the frantic beat of my heart pumping Viktor’s blood. It flowed through my veins, mixing with mine. “D-Did it change me?”

  “Of course not.” Mixon grabbed a small tablet from the stainless steel counter, swiping his finger across the screen. “I tested your vitals and your bloodwork came back normal. You’re completely fine.”

  I wasn’t so sure.

  An unreadable mask settled over Viktor’s features, hiding any emotions. Flashes of their conversation returned. He’d called me his best shot. He saved me because he needed something from me just like Faolan—and that succubus—suspected.

  “I want answers, Viktor.” My palms pressed harder into the wall to steady me. “I mean it.”

  Viktor’s fists clench
ed and unclenched by his sides. His jaw tightened as he stared me down. If he thought he could intimidate me into caving, he was dead wrong.

  He must have seen the resolve on my face because he blew out a forceful breath between his teeth and finally spoke. “Mixon, leave us. Sloane and I need to talk.”

  We most certainly did.

  Chapter 22

  Viktor remained leaning against the wall furthest away from me, as if he couldn’t stand to be any closer. His strangled voice calling my name while I lay dying on the bathroom floor floated to the surface. That didn’t sound like someone full of loathing. He’d pleaded for me to hang on, to stay with him.

  I was about to find out the real reason Viktor Hale stopped tormenting me and why he saved my life.

  My legs nearly gave out before I made it back to the bed. I greedily gulped the water Mixon had placed on the table before leaving.

  “You’re a seelie-dae.” Viktor’s husky voice traveled through the room with a hint of foreboding.

  I arched my brow. Stating the obvious, Vik.

  He rolled his eyes at my annoyed expression. “You’re a seelie-dae with elemental fire magic.”

  “You have fire magic too.” Among a bunch of other abilities. Did the unseelie prince’s power know no bounds?

  “You can also shadowmeld—and you’re a seelie-dae. You have no magical signature. It’s as if no magic is at play when you’re involved.” He rubbed the back of his neck, gazing at his boots. “And I need that.”

  Like brother like sister. The unseelie prince and the queen had the same idea. They wanted to use me because my magic was practically invisible. Did Viktor want me to murder someone too?

  “What exactly do you want me to do?” My voice tumbled out short and clipped. Was I just some pawn to the royal unseelies? Who would come after me next?

  “Faolan possesses something that I need destroyed, and you’re the best person for the job.”

  The mention of the alpha shifter sent chills over my body while my lungs struggled to work. The beast he became flashed through my mind. His fetid breath and saliva dripping on my skin burned like acid. “Where is he?”