Page 48 of The Succubus's Song

“Yeah, but…” Fern blushed a little. “I know what it’s like to be newly mated…”

“Oh,” Mara shook her head, “we’re not… He doesn’t know… Emmett figured it out.”

“Shit,” Fern gasped and turned to Emmett. “How did you know?”

“How did you know?” Calum looked at his second-in-command, shifting roles effortlessly and slipping into the professor. “Baobhan sith are technically fae, but we always assumed they didn’t have mates…”

“I’ll run you through the notes when we have time,” Emmett started talking faster in his excitement. “It’s fascinating. The best proof is to look at Mara and Finley together. That’s what got me thinking about it…”

“Excuse me,” Mara snapped, feeling some of her anger bubbling back up to the surface. “Can we potentially discuss this after we’ve rescued Finley?”

Silence fell over the room again, and Calum clapped his hands twice. A door at the far end of the room opened, and a fae guard poked his head in.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Assemble your squadron. Leave the others behind to defend the castle. Be ready to march on the Parker Manor at the top of the hour.”

“Sir?” the guard squeaked, clearly not expecting to receive orders that they were going to be marching into baobhan sith territory.

“Did I stutter?” Calum commanded, straightening his shoulders and looking every inch the high prince of the Seelie. The guard looked terrified and hurried off to do as he was commanded without saying anything else.

“What do you have in mind?” Emmett raised a brow as he looked at Calum. Mara thought her heart was going to stop.

“Calum, we have to be careful,” she pleaded with them. “You don’t know them like I do…”

“I’ve always assumed this day would come eventually.” Calum shrugged, turning his attention to Mara, “They want an audience with me, correct?”

“Yes, but—-” Mara started, but Calum raised a hand. There was a dangerous glint in his eye although his expression was almost playful.

“Then let’s give them an audience that they’ll never forget.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Finley hissed in pain as another long talon scraped across his torso. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but it was getting increasingly harder to keep his eyes open.

Mara’s mother—whose name was Katerina, Finley learned—called all of her ‘children’ to the great hall. Finley had nearly become sick again as he watched all the baobhan sith bleed their victims dry or drop them where they stood to heed their mother’s command. The bodies that were completely devoid of blood turned to ash when they hit the ground. Others weren’t so lucky, and they twitched in agony, which was spread out throughout the hall.

From what Finley could tell, they were all fae males that the baobhan sith must have picked up within Faerie.

All of Katerina’s daughters had gathered around Katerina, Alice, and Finley, with bloody smiles and ripped clothing. None of them bothered to redress or cover themselves as they openly leered at the prize Alice had brought them.

I’m so glad that I have a reference point for what the fucking Dracula’s brides must have looked like, Finley thought wryly, praying with his next breath that Mara would arrive soon.

Katerina clapped her hands and announced to the room that they were going to play a little game—whoever could illicit the loudest noise from Finley would get to take a taste.

Finley’s stomach dropped, and his first taste of cold-blooded fear drenched his nerves. He barely listened as Katerina laid out the ground rules, reminding them that Finley must be alive for when his family came to collect him.

Oh, thank god for small miracles, Finley cursed under his breath and thought of every sweat-inducing practice he’d ever survived.

He forced himself to relive his most brutal workouts, his longest games, and the most tortuous long-distance runs. Every time one of the baobhan sith raked a nail or a tooth across his skin, Finley tried his best to transmute it to something he was more familiar with—the aches and pains of training.

This was nothing like when Mara bit him. He’d never known pleasure like that before—this was malicious. Her sisters were setting out to inflict pain, and Finley hated to admit that they were doing a pretty damn good job.

One of the sisters approached the dais, tracing her fangs with her tongue, and Finley tried to focus. When she got closer, Finley realized she was attempting the game for a second time. His torso was a mess of scratches and bites, shallow and deep alike, and Finley imagined that his body looked like a really fucked up Picasso.

“You know,” Finley croaked as the sister got closer, “none of you are as pretty as your sister.”

He tried to smirk but let out a muffled moan instead. It hadn’t taken Finley long to realize that the sisters were incredibly vain. They really were insulted that Mara had managed to best them and leave.

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