Tempted By Fae

by Midnight Coven

  Voron glanced around at the other slaves in the cell. None of them cared to meet the eyes of a boy about to go into his first fight in the gruesome arena. Voron, the youngest of the fighters, was tall and muscular for his tender age of sixteen. For the past few years, his captors had trained him unmercifully. Unlike other boys his age, he was groomed to be a warrior.

  There was no formal education for a boy like him. From sunup to sundown, he lived and breathed gladiator training. It was brutal, and he was a great student. He had to be. If he wasn’t, the slavers had no problems striking him with a whip.

  “Do I need to get my whip?” the slaver threatened. He reached for the curled leather crop and narrowed his eyes at Voron.

  Voron shook his head and placed his sword into the scabbard on his back. He blew out a deep breath, his mind filled with everything he had learned over the past few years. He’d known this day would eventually come.

  He exited the cell without looking back. Those men…he doubted he would see them again. Most of them were farmers, blacksmiths, or common fae, snatched from their homes and thrown into slavery. Some were chosen, like Voron, to be trained to fight, while others were just given a weapon and tossed out into the arena. Voron knew that only some of them would be alive at the end of the week.

  He followed the two guards down the drab, filthy hallway. The flames in the sconces hanging on the walls provided little light.

  Voron tried to remain focused. His long dark hair was tied back out of his face. He didn’t need it falling into his eyes and creating a distraction.

  The guards surrounding him grunted while they climbed the few stairs that would lead him to the arena.

  “Good luck, kid,” the second guard said with a chuckle. He jerked his head toward the door.

  Voron’s flight or fight senses kicked in. He knew it wouldn’t do him any good to try to run. There was nowhere for him to go. The slavers kept their eyes on him. He had a better chance of staying alive out in the arena.

  The crowd’s chanting grew louder.

  “What are you waiting for?” Rough hands pushed Voron through the metal door.

  Voron slammed into the heavy iron doors, stumbling out into the ring. He squinted, raising his hand to block the scorching sun. The deafening screams of the audience grew silent.

  Voron took in the circular arena. The spectators high in the dome would have a grand view of the fights no matter where they sat. There were two large gates located along the walls, and Voron didn’t want to know what resided behind them.

  He’d heard of stories of the Gladiator Games. Not only did slaves have to fight champions, but beasts as well.

  He sent up a prayer to the gods above that he survived whatever he faced today.

  “Let’s welcome our youngest contestant into the Gladiator Games, Voron!”

  The people booed at Voron.

  He held his head up high and stalked to the center as he had been instructed. He was to turn, face the king, and bow.

  Failure to show respect to the dark fae king would cost him his head.

  “The young gladiator will face the great warrior, Xiong!”

  Piercing screams rang out from the people. The champion fighter jogged out from his side of the arena. He was a massive fae with black skin, a bald head, and hardened muscles. Twin daggers rested in sheaths along his waist.

  Xiong stopped twenty feet from Voron. His piercing opaque eyes locked on Voron. His lips turned up into a crooked grin, and a hefty laugh escaped him.

  “This is who I am to fight? An oversized child?” Xiong pointed to Voron.

  The audience joined him in his amusement.

  Voron bit back a growl. He had not chosen to fight. He had no choice in being here. The decision was made for him. He was facing potentially dying, and the gladiator dared to laugh at him?

  An electric current raced through his body. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as rage and anger filled him.

  “Am I not a worthy opponent?” Voron snapped. He balled his hands into tight fists while watching the warrior turn his back to him. The fighter had already dismissed him. Voron had heard of Xiong. In the fields where he trained, the older slaves spoke of the king’s powerful champions, and he was one of them.

  “You all are the same.” Xiong had all but dismissed him. He grinned and spun away to face the crowd. He raised his fists in the air, eliciting cheers from the observers before he glanced over at Voron. “I’ll try to make your death quick.”

  Horns blared, drawing their attention to the scaffold where the royal party sat.

  Voron watched the man who only could be the king, step to the rails. He waved to the spectators before giving his attention to the fighters. Sanev was tall with long blond hair flowing down his back. Dark-blue royal robes covered his body. Gold chains hung around his neck. His skin was pale, almost translucent.

  “His Royal Highness, King Sanev Daeydark,” the voice from the old speaker announced over the applause.

  The king raised his hand, silencing the arena. Nothing but the sound of the wind gently blowing could be heard.

  “Xiong, my champion, and Voron, the challenger, may the gods be in your favor.” King Sanev bowed his head slightly.

  Voron gave a deep bow like he’d been instructed he was to do, as did Xiong.

  “Let the games begin,” the voice on the speaker rang out.

  The spectators went wild with cheers and chants for the champion. The roar of excitement filling the air was deafening. They were blood-hungry and anticipating a kill.

  Voron willed his racing heart to slow down. He turned, whipping his sword from the scabbard. He backed up with his gaze locked on Xiong.

  The warrior barked a laugh before the smile disappeared. His eyes focused on Voron as a hunter would on his prey.

  Xiong took out one of his daggers and advanced on Voron.

  Voron gripped his sword, comforted by the heavy weapon. He’d trained hard for this day, and it would not be his day to die.

  He relaxed his knees in a defensive stance and held his sword up with both hands.

  Today would not be the day for him to be underestimated.

  Xiong let loose a battle cry and raced forward.

  Voron grunted when their weapons clashed against each other. Xiong was powerful. He pulled back and swung his long dagger toward Voron, who ducked, avoiding it. He spun around on his heel with his sword out. The tip of the metal slashed Xiong’s chest.

  A fine line of blood appeared on the fae’s skin.

  Xiong reached for his other dagger.

  They stalked around each other in a full circle. Voron knew not to take his eyes off the troll.

  Xiong ignored the blood running down his chest and moved forward. He slashed at Voron, who was able to deflect his advance with his sword. Voron may be much younger than his adversary, but he knew he was much quicker and lighter on his feet.

  Sweat slid down along Voron’s back. The heat of the sun made the arena almost unbearable. He blinked to keep the sweat from going into his eyes.

  Xiong was unforgiving, attacking Voron. He warded off the blows of the daggers with his sword.

  Voron backed up, tripping over a stone. He released a curse, falling to the ground.

  Screams echoed from the crowd.

  Xiong took advantage of Voron’s misstep. With a cry, Xiong followed Voron down, swinging his dagger. Voron rolled to his knees while swinging his sword up in the air.

  It connected with Xiong’s throat.

  Voron stood with his sword buried deep into Xiong’s neck. Dark blood rushed out around the steel blade.

  Xiong’s eyes widened. The champion was unable to speak. His mouth opened, but no words escaped. Only blood seeped from between his lips.

  The crowd grew silent.

  Voron’s heart raced, his breaths coming fast. He glanced up at the stands where the royals sat. Sanev stood and braced his hands on the railing.

  “Finish him,” Sanev ordered. His words were
loud and clear for all to hear.

  With a cry, Voron drew his sword back and spun around with the hilt held tightly, decapitating the fallen warrior.

  Xiong’s head fell to the ground.

  The onlookers exploded with cheers.

  They had a new victor.

  Voron stalked away from the body and stood before the king. He gave a deep bow and tried with all of his might to keep his stomach contents down.

  This was his first kill.

  He drew in a shaky breath, praying he didn’t vomit in front of the entire assembly.

  He stood to his full height and met the dark eyes of the king.

  Voron gasped, trying to draw in breath. His eyes flew open, and he sat forward, inhaling hard. He blinked, trying to bring his eyes into focus. He observed the room and didn’t recognize where he was. The last memories he’d had were of Shelmir and Arnarra attempting to hold him up.

  Now, he was in an unfamiliar bedroom.

  “Finally, you are awake,” a soft voice exclaimed.

  Voron swiveled around and found Arnarra dressed in a cream silk nightgown in the bed with him.

  “Where am I?” he demanded. The soft sheets kept him covered, but he sensed without looking that he was naked.

  Where were his clothes?

  How long had he been unconscious?

  “You are in my quarters here in the palace.” She sat forward and rested a hand on his forehead. Worry filled her silver eyes as she gazed upon him. “Lie back and rest.”

  “I’m sure I have been asleep long enough,” he muttered. He glanced over at the windows and took notice of no sunshine. Confusion clouded him.

  “Please.”

  Her soft voice had him turning his attention back to Arnarra. His heart stuttered at the one word. How could this woman have such a hold over him?

  He jerked his head in a nod and fell back onto the mound of pillows.

  She slid next to him, closing the gap between them. She reached up and slid her fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his face.

  “You have been asleep for five days, General.”

  Voron froze. Five days?

  “The battle?” he asked hesitantly. It was becoming harder to concentrate with Arnarra pressing her soft curves to him. Concern for his men rose. Did they have to carry on without their leader? How many lives were lost?

  “Voron.” Arnarra paused. She ran a finger along his face before resting it on his chest. “What do you remember about your parents?”

  He sat higher on the bed. He noticed how Arnarra somehow snuggled her way under his arm. He would have to admit he liked the feeling of her beside him. They were utterly alone, and they needed to talk about the bond between them. Just being next to her now, he could almost feel her heartbeat aligning with his.

  “My parents?” he asked. He shook his head. “I was taken when I was about eight. I only have pieces here and there that I remember, but nothing of value. Why?”

  “Do you remember what happened when you were battling those trolls?” Her silver irises darkened while she waited for his answer.

  Voron remembered the two trolls who thought they would easily be able to capture him. Then three more approached, and at that moment, he knew he had to fight to survive. He would be needed. He had just found his mate, and if the fates were determined to give him Arnarra, then he would do everything in his power to ensure he remained alive to be with her.

  He reached up and cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb along her soft brown skin.

  “I knew I had to get back to something important to me.” Voron decided to be absolutely truthful with Arnarra. No more arguing, no more fighting what he sensed between them. If she wanted him, he would give her his all. “A desperate feeling overcame me. Something I’ve never felt before. Then when the other trolls jumped into the fight, and I couldn’t ward off all five of them, I thought of…” Voron paused.

  Arnarra reached up and rested her hand along with his on her face. “What? What were you thinking about?”

  “You.”

  No longer able to resist her, Voron drew Arnarra to him. He slammed his mouth onto hers and rolled them over onto the bed. Arnarra’s legs opened to allow him to settle into the valley of her thighs. She wrapped her arms around him, returning the kiss with heightened passion.

  This was what he had fought for.

  To be able to have this woman in his arms.

  Chapter Ten

  Arnarra walked alongside her mate. She glanced down at their threaded fingers. She held her head up high and followed Voron to the throne room. He was dressed in his commander uniform, dark button-down shirt, pants, and his ever-present cape. It didn’t matter what Voron wore. Her favorite outfit of his was nothing. His body was one that deserved to be worshiped. It was as if the gods themselves had sculpted him.

  Her skin practically tingled from the lovemaking that had commenced once Voron had woken up. This only confirmed that they were meant for each other. The bond between them was growing.

  She just prayed she didn’t grin too much once they stood before her parents and the council.

  It was now evening, and her father had called a meeting after she had notified him Voron had awakened.

  They arrived at the doors guarded by Rolim and Eldar. They stood to their full height once Voron and Arnarra approached.

  “General. Your Grace.” They nodded to Voron and bowed to Arnarra before opening the double doors.

  Arnarra tightened her grip on Voron’s hand and walked with him into the room. The clicking of her heels echoed through the air.

  Arnarra’s gaze landed on her parents, who sat in their thrones. Saria stood off to the side of their mother with a crooked grin.

  Seating was placed at the base of the stairs facing the royal couple. The council filled four of them, and the two center chairs were left vacant.

  “Arnarra. Voron. We are so grateful that you could join us.” Kylantha smiled.

  They stopped in front of the empty seats. Arnarra knew they were making a statement to not only her family but the council. The curious gazes of the council members were on them.

  They were together. Soon, Arnarra and Voron would have their mating ceremony, but for now, they both needed to concentrate on stopping Sanev.

  “Mother. Father. Sister.” Arnarra nodded to them. She faced to the council. “Council.”

  “Your Graces.” Voron bowed to them before also turning to the council members. “Council.”

  The council members murmured their greeting. Lady Yalena faced them with a small smile. She gave a sly wink to Arnarra.

  “How are you, General?” Gormer asked, not beating around the bush. He sat forward, his intense eyes flicking between the two of them.

  “I’m well, thank you for asking,” Voron replied. He drew Arnarra closer to him. “My strength has returned. I’m told I had a wonderful nurse at my side the entire time I was unconscious.” He glanced down at Arnarra.

  She smiled and squeezed his hand.

  “Yes, well, we all need that one person by our side who will protect us when we are unable to defend ourselves.” The king shared a look with his wife.

  Arnarra didn’t know what it meant, but she was sure it held a deeper meaning.

  “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my mate,” Arnarra said proudly.

  “Daughter, we are happy for you. Unfortunately, we cannot celebrate as we would like to,” her mother said. Her attention turned to Voron. “General, there is much we need to discuss. Please have a seat.”

  “I’d prefer to stand if you don’t mind, Your Grace.”

  Arnarra sensed a shift in him. When she’d asked him about his family, he admitted he didn’t remember much of them. At one hundred years old, he was still in his prime years and should have some memory from childhood. Arnarra suspected that something or someone had blocked his mind.

  “Sanev is growing stronger and—”

  “I apologize for cutting you off, sir. But I know w
hat Sanev wants.” Voron took a step forward, releasing Arnarra’s hand.

  She watched in shock as he walked to the bottom stair. He had been in a deep slumber for five days. How could he possibly know what the dark fae king wanted?

  “What may that be?” Gormer asked.

  “Me.”

  * * *

  The End…for now…

  From the author

  Ariel Marie is an author who loves the paranormal, action and hot steamy romance. She combines all three in each and every one of her stories. For as long as she can remember, she has loved vampires, shifters and every creature you can think of. This even rolls over into her favorite movies. She loves a good action packed thriller! Throw a touch of the supernatural world in it and she’s hooked!

  She grew up in Cleveland, Ohio where she currently resides with her husband and three beautiful children.

  For more information, visit Ariel Marie online:

  www.thearielmarie.com

  www.facebook.com/authorarielmarie

  Join Ariel Marie’s newsletter:

  https://bit.ly/2LPwflW

  Copyright © 2020 by Marina Simcoe

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter One

  “Ivy, look at that!” Fleur stopped abruptly in front of a large striped tent near the fairground fence.

  “What is that?” I took another bite of the candy apple on the stick. The red sugary coat cracked under my teeth, filling my mouth with sweetness mixed with the fresh crisp taste of the apple underneath.

  “A sideshow?” She tugged at my t-shirt, pulling me through the crowds that filled the grounds of CNE, Canadian National Exhibition, that takes place near the Toronto waterfront at end of summer.