Carnival of Darkness (FaeTAL Series Book 1) (7 page)

“No, don’t. It’s okay, really, cowboy. Don’t risk the others. You have to finish what you st-”

She’s gone.

Just up and fucking disappeared as if ripped from my dream by only god knows what.

Looking around, confused and pissed, I try to wake myself. I knew it was too good to be true. My dreams always end in fucking nightmares.

Charlee

“Time to wake up, bitch.”

The bars of my cage vibrate from the massive boot kick from the scraggly man demanding my attention. I sit up as much as I’m able to in the tiny cage and glare at the man that just interrupted the sweetest dream I’ve ever had. Bringing my hand to my lips I fight back a grin. Dang, I could swear the dream was real. I can still feel his lips on mine. Still taste him on my tongue. Somehow, the touch of his calloused hands on my face took away the pain of my bruise instantly. It’s like he took the pain into himself with a simple touch.

I’ve never gone into someone’s dream world before. I’m not even sure that it’s possible to jump into someone else’s dream. Or maybe he came into mine? Crap, I need to stop all the wishful thinking. It wasn’t real. It was just my subconscious trying to help me deal with all the bad that has happened and give it a positive spin in some manner.

“Ain’t you just a sexy little thang. You’ll make for some good distractions, that’s for sure. I ain’t here to let ya out or nothin’, so don’t get ya hopes up. I just like to stop in and check out the newbies while y’all are still fresh and scared. That look of fear. Hell yeah, I could just eat it up!”

The brute rambles on and on, so I just block him out and re-live the odd dream he so rudely pulled me from. I would much rather remember that kiss and those strong hands on my body than to hear about all the gross things this man has planned for me. A shudder wracks my body, and I shake my head to clear away the awful images. I wish the things my cowboy told me were true. If only he really had a good reason for being here. Why can’t my cowboy be a real hero? Unfortunately, it was just a dream my mind created based on me being kidnapped and him being somewhat nice. If only real life worked out like fairy tales. Sadly, fairy tales aren’t real, and there is no sexy prince or cowboy coming to my rescue. My release sits solely in my own hands.

Eventually, I tune back into the man pacing around outside of my cage. “-I can keep at it for hours! I swear, ain’t nothin’ better. You’ll see. I gots plans for you. I-”

The sound of voices outside the trailer fills the room, and he stops short. Trying to maintain my control, I refuse to let myself think about what is going to happen to me. I don’t allow my mind to wander to my sweet Willow, refusing to let my thoughts of her be soiled by the nastiness of this place. I know that Sam will keep her safe for me, even if I never make it home. Not knowing what the future holds for Willow worries me, but I can’t focus on the unknown right now. I have to keep my mind on my situation and finding a way out of it.

“Shit! I gotsta get outta here! Fred’ll kick my ass if he catches me in here again.”

With that, he tiptoes his big frame, surprisingly quietly, to the other side of the trailer. I don’t hear a door or window close, but I assume that he’s gone.

The voices outside the front door grow louder, yet I can’t make out what they’re saying. Closing my eyes, I focus my mind on the voices. Forcing my mind to reach out to theirs, I need to probe their minds for any information that may be useful in my escape.

I’ve always known that I was special. That I was born with a gift that most don’t have. Being fortunate enough to be blessed with a mom who was a gifted mate meant that, while most women have no clue, I was raised knowing that I would one day be with someone special. That I would develop gifts based on my mate. That my birthmark was anything but. I’ve spent the last three years since meeting Will learning about and mastering my new talent. It has come in handy on several occasions. My biggest worry about being held here is that they will catch on to my enhanced healing and psychic abilities, or, god forbid, they learn about Willow. A true Fae baby is so rare; they are considered a great prize. Willow being born a little girl instead of a boy? Well, let's just say that never happens.

When I had Will around to help me, things didn’t seem as scary. Will wasn’t a big part of the Fae world. He stuck to himself and focused on his research, never interacting outside of the office. He worked at some big research facility in downtown St. Louis but would never tell me the name of it for some odd reason. While they did do research on your typical human diseases, and have had some pretty great successes, their main objective was to figure out why Fae mates have all but disappeared and what can be done about it. I’m not sure how, or, more importantly, why, Will kept me a secret. But his boss nor his co-workers had any idea of my existence, and I never thought to question it. Now it’s too late.

Will made it sound like our child would be taken away from us and used for their research, and that is something that I cannot allow. I know that Willow is special and that her very existence defies logic, but I refuse to let her life be test tubes and needles.

Just no, it’s not an option! Willow will stay a secret from the Fae as well as these creepers that have me now. Even if it is the last thing I do.

Dragging my mind back to the task at hand, I ease into the minds of the men outside.

Usually, I can slide into anyone’s mind like a knife through butter. It’s so smooth and gentle that the person has no clue I was ever there. Getting into these guys minds feels almost like slugging through tar. It’s nasty and sticky, and I have to fight with my natural instinct to pull away from the blackness surrounding me. What in the world? I’ve never encountered anything like this. I can taste the nastiness on my tongue. The smell of burnt tar filling my nose, I force bile back down my throat and push forward. If evil had a smell, a taste, a feeling... this would be it.

Even though being in their minds is making me sick and my head is starting to pound from the effort it’s taking, I can’t pull back yet. I need to find something that will help me get out of here and back to where I belong. Back to my little family.

Now, if only I could listen in on my sexy cowboy and figure out what his story is.

Fred

A giddy pep enters my steps when I think about the fact that we have yet another bitch in our hands. Breaking them is so much fucking fun. Knowing that I’m ruining them for life, especially if their oh-so-perfect mates ever learn just who they let inside them. Well,
let
might be a bit of a stretch, I chuckle. The newest addition to our little freak show is quite the delicious little piece of ass. Tiny frame, barely five feet tall. Long, board-straight, bright red hair. Blue eyes so light they seem violet. Plump lips that I can’t wait to see wrapped around my throbbing dick as I pound in and out of her. I can almost feel her heat around me already. Hear her gagging as I force my thick dick down her throat. I can even see those unique eyes tearing up as I grip her jaw tighter with one hand and hold her hair in a painful grip with the other. Oh fuck yes, this girl will be on her knees for me soon, I growl silently.

My dick swells against my leg, and drips of precum slide down my leg at just the thought of getting my claws on a fresh mate. Her screams fill my dreams. Make me salivate at the chance to ruin the fucking Fae. To eliminate their prissy asses once and for all.

Walking around, I glory in the hell on earth that I have created with my little Carnival of Darkness. Puny fucking humans. I still can’t believe the nitwits pay me for this shit. None of them willing to admit that they are supporting the torture of helpless women. My mouth waters as I think of the many ways I have to play with my girls. The enjoyable take on booths that make it so the many people who visit the C.O.D can pay and get their hands a little dirty. The fools actually seem to think that the girls are here by choice. Ha! How dumb can people really be? What fucking woman would sign up for the shit that we do?

Yeah, I could just kill them. Would have the same effect. The fucking Fae wouldn’t have a chance to find their mates if they were dead. But damn if this ain’t so much more fun. Toying with them. Finding their limits and then pushing them so far past them that they don’t even know who they are anymore. That right there is what I live for.

From the moment I was given the task of eradicating the Fae scum from the earth, I knew that it would be the most fun I had had in my long life. Using human thugs to do my dirty work, well that has its perks and moments. But with the fresh meat, I wanna be the first to touch them. The one to show them what their future holds. It also serves to bind the humans to me even further. Those dumb useless fucks are so scared of me that they wouldn’t even think about double crossing me.

“Idiots.” I scoff.

I’ve been at this for so many years that I’ve lost some of the joy that comes from the day to day practice of running the demented fucking place. The women hold out for a hell of a lot longer than I ever expected ‘em to. Some have been with me for more than five years. Those girls. Those are the ones that I’m most proud of. I swear most of them don’t even remember life before the C.O.D. Most don’t make it more than three. Their weak human bodies giving out without their precious mates to heal them, make them impervious to the kinds of deaths I provide for them. Hell, some of my most highly paid shows, like the nitwits don’t realize that while they cheered us on and added money to the tip jars, we murdered a defenseless woman. If I were a different man, it may sicken me that they enjoy it as much as they do. But then, I’m not a different man, and I think it’s fucking amazing that they get off on the pain I am able to provide.

Being able to sense the aura of Fae mates definitely makes their capture a hell of a lot easier. But the damn psychic, tattoo, and piercing booths bring in just as many. Sadly, I was only sent with a small contingent of soldiers to assist me in my goal, I have to make use of the humans who can’t sense the mates. They have, however, been trained to look for the marking. Those greedy damn men get pretty fucking creative with checking women over that’s for damn sure. They like having a variety of
toys
at hand for their perverted play as much as I do.

My boss is getting fucking pissed that I haven’t gotten my hands on the right Fae mate. The number of mates that I have taken in the last almost six years is staggering. But I have my suspicions that we have her, or someone very close to her. The prophecy is clear. Her marking is unique, but we aren’t sure what makes it so. For some damn reason, the prophets couldn’t tell us. Useless bastards. All they were able to tell us is that she fucking exists, and if she is allowed to find her true mate, the future will not be one that someone like me will wanna live in. She has to die. Or, better yet, if our scientists can figure out the right process to make it happen, she needs to mate one of my kind instead. Preferably, the little bitch will mate me and I will take my boss's place. I will lead my people like I was meant to.

As the sun crests over the horizon, I let a malicious grin fill my face as I head toward the trailer that holds the starter cell and the woman I’m about to fucking break.