Cursed Fae (Dark Thirst Series Book 1)

by Sarah Tobias

  Cursed Fae

  Dark Thirst Series, Book 1

  Sarah Tobias

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Published by Mitchell Tobias Publishing LLC

  Copyright © Mitchell Tobias Publishing LLC, 2020

  Cover Design by Daqri Combs

  CBC Designs

  Copyright © 2020

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Prologue

  I was never supposed to live.

  That was what my mother would scream during her rages, her face twisted into savage fury as she lunged at me—either to kill or to mutilate, I could never tell.

  "You are wrong! You’re an abomination!" she’d cry before charging forward, her arm raised high as if to slay me in one swift, ferocious plunge.

  Yet, for reasons that still escaped me, she would never make that final, fatal move. She’d always stop mid-leap, her face frozen and twisted for a few terrifying seconds before her body slackened. Her tendons would snap and release like broken cords as she fell heavily to the floor, just before reaching me.

  What I remember most clearly was that moment of calm, chilling stillness, just before her legs would collapse beneath her, where her eyes, wide and unblinking, would focus solely on mine. Even when the rage turned into haggard despair and she crumbled before me, she would never look away.

  That memory, the horrifying image of my mother, would be the first thing I thought of when I made my first kill.

  Chapter 1

  The beginning of my destruction started out suspiciously enough.

  White blurred into black in front of me, steam rising like smoke and clogging my airways as I stirred in foam with a long spoon, clink, clink, clink, against the ceramic.

  My face heated, too hot, and I swiped a quick hand over my damp brow before I mustered up a smile and said, “Here you are, sir.”

  “Oh, uh, no. I ordered a white truffle mocha. Not a mocha mocha.”

  I stared down at the drink, which seemed more like a vague, floating cloud on the countertop than a to-go cup of coffee. Am I going to pass out? “Give me a sec and I'll fix it.”

  “Yeah, hurry, would you? I have a class in like, two minutes.”

  Then maybe you shouldn’t be stopping three blocks away for an extra-hot truffle mocha jackass latte.

  That wasn’t nice, or even normal of me to be so insulting. I shouldn’t be cursing out my customer, even silently.

  My smile didn’t transmit my thoughts as I picked up the steaming cup, wincing as the heat scalded my fingertips. I swore and thunked it onto the counter, scalding liquid splattering across my hand.

  “Yikes,” the guy said. “That looked like it hurt.”

  Holding my hand against my stomach, I used the other to grab a fresh cup and tried to ignore the sounds of other impatient patrons in the coffee shop.

  “Can you still make my coffee?” he asked.

  This is a sugared nuclear device. It’s not coffee. Then I frowned and thought, What’s wrong with me today?

  I felt normal, but not. My mind was thick, my focus wavering at the edges, enough to make me dizzy. I blinked hard as I fiddled with the espresso machine. Once the hiss of the steamer started, I leaned my forehead against the cabinet doors above, waiting for my heated, slick skin to cool down.

  “Hey Emily, you okay? You look like you’ve found a hidden portal in that espresso.”

  My best friend, Macy, had her warm brown eyes trained on mine as I glanced over at her on the other side of the pick-up counter.

  “Is it a portal back in time?” she asked. “Because I could really use a do-over this morning.”

  I squinted at her. Macy went hazy before my eyes readjusted.

  “It’s just been a busy morning,” I replied as I turned the dial off on the milk steamer.

  “You’re not seriously stressed, are you?” she said. “You should've seen me an hour ago. I usually bomb Natural Science, but this morning was an epic explosion.” She trailed after me as I dropped the guy’s truffle mocha in front of him. She continued, “Mixed up my molecules. Probably destroyed the atmosphere. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “You know me, always in my head.” I smiled at her, hoping it appeared natural. “Sorry I missed your near-explosion, though.”

  “More like my near death.” Macy leaned her elbows against the counter, making herself at home.

  My shift-mate, a sullen girl named Andrea, gave Macy the stink-eye as she plopped a drink down near Macy’s arm. Macy smiled serenely in return.

  The truffle guy held out a few dollar bills to pay, but I waved him away. “On the house. Sorry about the mistake.”

  Pleased, he left without so much as a thank you, making room for the next person.

  “Large coffee. Black.”

  I nodded, spinning around to pour coffee out of the decanter and narrowly avoiding crashing into Andrea. The rush before the college’s four o’clock classes was starting, and with only Andrea and me on the floor, it was becoming exhausting and cramped behind the cash register, but I powered through. Rent was due soon. I couldn’t afford to be late. Again.

  “I have gossip,” Macy said, oblivious to the people shuffling around her. The sound of their voices and footsteps ricocheted against my body, clogging my ears, their movements like clusters of nits clouding my eyes. It took severe effort to keep my attention on Macy as I ran around, grabbing milk, pouring espresso, blending frappes.

  I clutched the espresso lever a little tighter. “What about? You know I’m always the last to hear it.”

  “Which I will never understand, since I’m always the first, and you’re my best friend.”

  It didn’t seem to occur to Macy that I wasn’t an NYU freshman with her. Or any kind of college student.

  “I heard about someone today,” Macy said. “Well, a guy and a girl, but you know who I care about.”

  I nodded weakly in response.

  “Have you scoped him out yet?” I asked. Is this the flu, maybe? Low blood sugar?

  “No, but I’ve heard rumbli
ngs,” she answered. “He just transferred into NYU. I think. He wanders around campus at least. Definitely not homeless, though.” Macy nodded, agreeing with herself. “Must be a student. Anyway, Amanda and Liz have both talked to him, and they say he is way, way hot. Even up close.”

  I mustered up a smile to humor my friend, leaning in and whispering, “Could this be it?”

  “You mean, could he be the answer to all your dreams?” She bent further over the counter so our noses almost touched. “Maybe.”

  It was Macy’s goal to set me up with a guy, a dream she’d never given up despite a year of knowing me and my tendency to shy away from everyone.

  “I’d wish you good luck,” I said, “but we both know you don’t need it.”

  Macy perked up. “Does this mean I have your permission?”

  “No, because luck isn’t needed in a situation that doesn’t exist.”

  Huffing out a breath, Macy retorted, “Must you stomp all over my one wish for you?”

  I responded, “Isn’t a wish that won’t come true just a lie?”

  Macy grumbled. I spun around, stepping away to grab—

  BOOM.

  I crashed into Andrea. Coffee splashed as the cups Andrea held fell to the ground. I teetered on the edge of impact beside her, almost sending both of us into the hot mess. I tried to catch the edge of the counter as a buffer, but my sweat caused my hand to slide sharply to the right, skidding against the metal, and I faltered.

  “Aak!” Macy staggered back, her hand going up to wipe her forehead. Then, because that exclamation didn’t quite cover her pain: “Heck mouth! Fu—uh, fountain…” she finished, using her remaining good eye to track a mom with a stroller as she passed by.

  “Watch it.”

  Andrea's tone was flat, almost lifeless. Even through my fugue, it surprised me. Andrea wasn’t the friendliest, but she usually forgave my coffee mistakes. She and I have been working here for a year, and I thought we’d developed a grudging acceptance of each other.

  I was about to ask if Andrea was all right, but as soon as I looked at her, I couldn’t speak. My vision cleared, my ears popped, and my body steadied with an eerie, ready hum.

  My eyes rounded in horror.

  One side of Andrea’s mouth tipped up into a cold grin. She pushed past me without an apology, without another word, and turned the corner smoothly before she was out of sight.

  “Did—did Andrea get braces or something?” I asked Macy as soon as Andrea was out of earshot.

  “That chick’s a piece of granite,” Macy responded. “A rude chunk of mean rock. She didn’t even flinch when you smacked into her,” Macy grabbed napkins from a nearby stack and dabbed her forehead. “But I didn't see any metal in her mouth. Then again, my eyes were too busy being scalded to look up.”

  I couldn’t move. “But her … teeth…”

  “What about them?” Macy smoothed the front of her sweater-dress and adjusted the strap of her book bag. “Other than the fact she doesn't whiten?” She fluttered her fingers in front of my face as I continued my numb stance in the center of the service area. “Yoo-hoo. Emily?”

  “Miss?” someone else asked.

  Another voice piped in, “Come on, it should not take this long to pour a cup of coffee.”

  Grumblings all around. Macy gave them all a good glare. “Get to class already.”

  I blinked a few times before I refocused on Macy. It relieved me to see her, clear as day. Even more reassuring, I no longer felt like I was in a coffee shop tilt-a-whirl. The ground was secure beneath my feet.

  “Nothing. Never mind,” I said to Macy before directing my attention to the next patron. “Welcome to Cream of the Cup, what can I get you?”

  I resumed taking orders, shaking off the nightmarish childhood images I hadn’t really thought of since moving in with my aunt ten years ago. Frightening ones.

  A random recall of childhood trauma had to be what’s going on with me today. Any reputable therapist would point out the obvious—I was experiencing repressed anxiety brought about by a crowded, noisy, too-warm environment.

  At least, the last shrink I stopped going to months ago would have.

  Because I refused to believe I'd seen blackened, rotting rows of fangs when Andrea curled up her lips and grinned.

  Chapter 2

  As the hours ticked by, the coffee crowd at Cream of the Cup died down. Andrea returned to her surly yet hardworking self, with no rotting incisors in sight.

  As soon as the clock hit ten, I closed up shop, wiping down the workstation. Muffled horns and sirens sounded outside the window, but I found comfort in the noise as I switched off the hidden stereo system and listened to the sounds of my city. My home.

  I waved to Andrea as I headed downstairs to the lockers, untying my apron as I descended. My skin felt sticky from drying sweat, and I badly wanted to get back to my apartment and have a long, hot shower. I hummed under my breath as I turned the combination lock, eager to put in my earbuds and zone out as I walked home.

  SNAP.

  I whirled at the sound. Looked left, then right, but I only saw an empty row of lockers, slightly tilted because of the cracked foundation underneath. Andrea was the only other person to leave. I was alone.

  But dark closets, locked cupboards and deserted basements had all tried to put the fear of death in me. They’d never won.

  The fluorescent lighting above my head flickered, emitting a low, electric hiss.

  Sssssssss…

  I stuffed my apron into my locker and grabbed my purse, cursing again as the cord of my earphones got caught in the grooves of the metal door.

  Must invest in bluetooth. No way were these stupid earbuds going to be the reason I was murdered in a dank, moldy basement, my body hidden under bags of coffee beans.

  I gave one last, hard yank, releasing the wires with a popping sound that caused me to believe I’d be investing in wireless headphones a lot sooner, but I didn’t hesitate as I raced to the basement steps and took them two at a time, refusing to look back into the shadows as I reentered the shop and slammed the basement door behind me.

  I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m not afraid of the black abyss.

  I leaned against the closed door, catching my breath as I shook myself out of it. Darkness couldn’t scare me, not after everything, and yet here I was, running from faulty basement wiring after feeling faint and dizzy all day.

  “Excuse me?” a deep voice asked.

  My head snapped up as I hitched in a breath. I clutched my purse tighter to my chest.

  Something surged within.

  I didn’t know what that something was. A warmth uncoiling in my belly. An awakening at my core. It was as if this person’s alert gaze prodded me upright and urged me to be ready.

  There was an immediate greed to have him, this gorgeous guy standing by the entrance with shining gray eyes, shadow-black hair and bare muscular arms encased in skin and tattoos.

  Saliva built up on my tongue, but I swallowed it back and shook the strange craving off by studying him further.

  He was in a sleeveless, black shirt. My chin rose. It’s freezing out. Why doesn’t he have a jacket?

  “We’re closed,” I said, but it didn’t sound like my voice. It was low, not quite a growl, but hitting velvety peaks of sound.

  He angled his head. “Then why was the door open?”

  “Because my co-worker’s not herself today.”

  Freaking Andrea, forgetting to lock up behind her and leaving me alone, fresh meat for muggers and robbers and … worse. I’d be more annoyed if the image of her decaying mouth didn’t flash before my mind’s eye, murder glinting against her incisors.

  Is this guy worse?

  I straightened from the door and walked with purpose as I dug for the shop’s keys in my purse. I fitted them through my fingers, creating a version of jagged brass knuckles. “Come back another time for your caffeine fix.”

  “Are you alone?” he asked.

  H
is voice is cold brew, smooth on ice. But it wasn’t what caused me to jerk back before I got any closer. A feeling washed over me, some kind of static gate electrifying the space between us.

  He narrowed his eyes at my hiss of sound as I teetered back.

  “Get the hell out,” I said.

  “My apologies.” His shoulders relaxed, and his hands went into the pockets of his black jeans. I got the sense he was attempting to reduce his threat, and my gaze raked him from head to toe. I squeezed the key ring tighter.

  He continued, “That question wasn’t meant to scare you. I could really use a cup of coffee. Black. No effort, I swear. I’ll leave like you asked, but…” Out of his pocket, he pulled out a fresh $50 bill. “Consider this your tip. For the inconvenience.”

  My mouth formed the words to deny him, but I was studying the money.

  And … I felt like I could handle him. He was a strange boy, entering my shop after hours, and there was no one to hear me scream. But—there was a certainty inside me that knew I could take him.

  How much trust could I put in that knowledge? I’d never felt this way before.

  I said, “Just black? Fifty bucks?”

  He dipped his chin in acknowledgement.

  I cleared my throat. “Fine.”

  Moving behind the workstation, I searched for a cardboard cup and shook out the dregs of our house coffee from the decanter, facing him the entire time. Picturing him leaping over the counter and pinning me against the back wall was both terrifying and, to my horror, alluring, so I wanted him out of here. But I wanted the money more.