Page 42 of The Succubus's Song

“You’re not going to get away with this,” Finley scoffed. “Do you really think you stand a chance against Calum?”

“Not in a fair fight,” Alice shrugged nonchalantly and continued walking, calling over her shoulder, “but Fern is his mate and your sister. No fae acts rationally when their mates are involved. Remember that, kid.” Alice waved them forward, and Finley was forced to oblige.

The forest started to spring up around them, and Finley came to realize he was in more trouble than he’d thought.

* * *

Finley had never walked so much in his life. He lost track of time and tried to lose himself in his surroundings. Luckily, Faerie gave him plenty to look at.

Alice could move a lot faster than this and haul me with her, whether I liked it or not. Finley watched Alice and her steady gait up ahead of him. She must be toying with me.

Finley rightfully surmised the only reason for the long walk was to wear him out, and in theory, make him more compliant, but he didn’t really have the capacity to stand up against one baobhan sith, let alone Alice’s entire family.

Finally, as the sun was beginning to set, Finley nearly tripped over a tree root and realized the woods had been thinning around them. They were staring out over an open valley with a well-traveled road cutting through it.

At the end of the twisting dirt path was the largest home that Finley had ever seen. It was a twisting castle, with more turrets and towers than he could count.

The stones were black, and they glittered in the setting sun, looking like they were made of obsidian or glass instead of stone. There were spires and balconies curling around every corner of the building, all with intricate iron fencing around them.

The entire property was walled in with a huge brick wall and another matching iron gate. As they approached it, Finley noticed the crest in the middle of the ironwork—an open-mouthed skull.

Finley shivered as he looked at it, getting the abject sense that it was screaming at him.

“What do you think?” Alice purred, looking at the hellish manor like it was a comfy English cottage.

“I think it looks like Tim Burton had a really bad trip,” Finley grumbled, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other. The gate swung open as Alice approached without knocking, and she beckoned him through it.

“I don’t know who that is,” Alice sneered, “but I take it you’re not impressed. No matter.”

Alice led Finley to the front door, which stood nearly double his height. It was a heavy wooden door, reinforced with metal bars, and looked like it could withstand a siege.

There were two large knockers, both in the shape of skulls, and Alice flicked her fingers in the air. Finley watched as the skulls' mouths opened and closed of their own accord, making an ominous knocking sound.

Alice was smiling nearly ear to ear, and that fact alone was enough to make Finley doubly nervous—but nothing prepared him for the sight in front of him as the doors swung open.

“Do you want to know where your precious Mara comes from?” Alice was suddenly beside him, hissing in his ear. “She’s no better than any of us. And this is what we are.” Alice shoved Finley forward, and he stumbled into a great hall.

Alice walked past him, and he watched in awe as her suit transformed in front of his eyes, turning into a tailored black tunic and a pair of trousers. Her hair braided itself as her most feral features intensified.

The great hall looked like something out of the Highland’s glory days. There was a massive hearth in the very center, and the stone walls were all covered in thick tapestries. Finley didn’t bother to decode what they depicted as he battled sensory overload.

Alice walked forward and beckoned for Finley to do the same. As he crossed the massive atrium, he peered into the wide, open gothic arches leading into a myriad of antechambers.

In every room, there were baobhan sith.

They were everywhere—and they were terrifying.

Finley couldn’t deny that they all had an otherworldly beauty about them, but their wildness matched it stroke for stroke. Each woman he saw had no use for glamour, fully embracing their fae forms.

And they were all in various stages of undress.

Most of the baobhan sith were dressed in corsets and skirts, either rucked up around their waist or pulled down to expose their chest. The air was thick with the scent of sex and the heavy, metallic tang of blood.

Finley thought he was going to be sick.

He got a glimpse into a library where one woman’s head disappeared under another’s skirts and into a sitting room where two baobhan sith were taking turns sucking a fae male off—both at his neck and his groin.

I’m going to pass out. Finley struggled to get enough oxygen and started praying he didn’t have another panic attack. Finley wasn’t necessarily prudish about sex, but the screams of anguish and torment of dying men punctuated the air.

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