Page 65 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Five

Standing in front of the gate, is none other than Maven with an army on his flanks.

“There she is,” he calls, his voice ringing out calm and assured. “My bride to be.”

Episode Ninety-Four

FAIRIES OF SUFFERING

My bride to be.

Maven’s words ring across the meadow.

Bran tenses beside me.

It means nothing to me—I never had any plan to follow through with my betrothal—but I know Bran is terrified that somehow, someway, the marriage will go through and he’ll lose me to the fae.

Baspin and Bianca are still ahead of us, standing between me and Maven with several vampires and shifters hovering on the edge, waiting for a command to attack.

Bran’s grip on me tightens. “Mouse,” he says, his voice low and throaty. I know he wants me to stand back and stand down, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting anyone else fight my battles now.

Bianca snaps her fingers and blue flame ignites in her hand. Beside her, in his opposite hand, Baspin holds a matching flame.

“Lending your power out to witches now, are you?” Maven says. “I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, dear Baspin, but I never would have expected you to have stooped so low.”

The flame blooms wider in Baspin’s hand. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to be ruffled by a little bit of goading but clearly there’s something between him and Maven to stoke his irritation.

“And I never would have taken you for a man who would have to force a girl to marry him.”

Maven sniffs at the insult.

Cal and his shifters spread out in a formation that reminds me of predators corralling prey. The fae echo the movements and when Arion gets a good look at them as they step further into the ethereal fairy light pouring from the open gate, his brow furrows into a deep V. He turns to me and Bran.

Voice low, he says to Bran, “I think you should take her away from here.”

“Are you insane? I’m not leaving.”

He gestures with a thumb over his shoulder. “The fae warriors you see over there? Those aren’t just any soldiers. Look at them. Look at their clothing, their markings.”

I scan the people standing beside Maven.

They aren’t wearing the bright, shiny clothing of the Summer Court, all sequins and pastels. Instead, they’re dressed in dark fabric and black leather armor with blades strapped to their backs and their hips.

Several of them have black markings on their hands and on their necks, symbols and swirls that are distinct enough they must have specific meanings. But whatever they are, I’m not familiar with them.

There is a man standing on Maven’s left who has the kind of pride in his shoulders that makes me think he’s the one in charge of this army.

A dark mark, like a swirl of black smoke, covers half his face, the bottom of it starting at his collarbone, splashing across his face to the opposite side at his temple. His eyes are gold like Bran’s.

Just looking at him makes me shiver.

“Who are they?” Bran asks.

Arion is quick to answer. “They’re known as the Fairies of Suffering. They belong to no court. The darkest of the dark fae. I’m shocked the queen was able to bring them to her side.” He glances back across the clearing. “She must have offered them something they couldn’t refuse.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Bran admits.

“They don’t usually make themselves known. They reside on the far edges of the fae realm. It’s been a long time since I’ve laid eyes on one. They keep to themselves but?—”

“But what?” I coax when he trails off.

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