Dove's Solstice (MF)

The Winter Court

Evernight Publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 12,000
0 Ratings (0.0)

~EDITOR'S PICK~

When Dove Byrne is faced with a future she cannot bear to endure, she does the unthinkable—she makes a wish to change her fate! Transported to the unseen realm of Faery by ancient magic, she finds herself lost in a winter wonderland … but nowhere is safe this side of the Veil when you’re a fragile mortal.

Narrowly avoiding a grizzly end thanks to the timely intervention of a dark and brooding assassin, Dove is beholden to the impossibly gorgeous stranger. Unfortunately for her the wild, Solitary fae’s intentions are far from pure.

With the Tithe upon them, Silas intends to pay his dues to The Winter Court with her life. But Fate has a way of making herself heard on the Winter Solstice, and the lethal outcast is about to be taught a lesson in love he won’t soon forget!

Dove's Solstice (MF)
0 Ratings (0.0)

Dove's Solstice (MF)

The Winter Court

Evernight Publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 12,000
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by Jay Aheer
Excerpt

Dove

The wilds of Faery stretch out before me, white, crisp, and breathtakingly beautiful. I shiver against the bitter cold and watch in a state of awe as my hot breath whorls away into the night. Glittering snowflakes fall all around me like tangible magic, their perfect and unique formations catching the radiance of the moon. The natural splendor of this hidden realm is unlike anything I have ever seen.

The land from which I come is dull and mundane by comparison. Even the air here is somehow purer, each heady breath more invigorating than the last. What am I going to do? My father, one of the village Elders, has warned me against the perils and treachery of the fae all my life. He says they are the emissaries of the Devil himself—that they were locked away here beside us, separated by a mere Veil to act as a test. The passions, debaucheries, and delicacies of Faery are believed to be the ultimate test in temptation.

If his wisdom is to be trusted, then I am in grave danger. But what if he is wrong? The thought sprouts unbidden in my mind like a bud bursting through the dark earth seeking the sun’s light. I am helpless to stop it. What if Faery is a paradise afforded to only a scant few? What if those who are lost or ensnared by its grasp are blessed? Perhaps not by God but blessed all the same.

In Faery there is no starvation or endless toil, there are no forced marriages, just perpetual beauty, and dark, heart-slaking desire. The thought of returning home to our humble log cabin to scrub floors, wash feet, and slave over a stove has my stomach churning and my soul revolting. Whatever part of me longs to return to the safety of what I have always known, I stamp down, quelling my fear. My mind has never felt more clarity.

I am going to find a way to remain here, I decide. I am stronger than anyone back home can imagine. And now that I have escaped my cage, I will never go back. I would rather explore the grandeur of Faery and die, having filled my soul with more beauty than any mortal could dream of, than return and slave away my youth. I will not submit. My father had intended for me to marry one of the Elders, his friend, a man well past his prime and with a heart as hard and cold as iron.

My conviction swells in my belly like a blazing fire. “I will not go back!” I shout out, my voice ringing through the night to disturb creatures nesting high above in the ancient, snow-laden pines.

“You will be denied the choice if you keep hollering like that.”

Faster than a bolt of lightning, I spin to face the voice that has taken me unawares. My breath hitches in my throat, and I stumble back a pace, tripping on an unseen obstacle buried beneath the snow. I pinwheel my arms, a shriek escaping my lips, before I end up on my backside in the icy white powder. “Oh, my God!” I gasp, scrambling to find my feet again.

“Unfortunately for you, there is no God here,” says the devastatingly handsome fae.

With my insides churning and my heart racing, I clutch my too-thin cloak to my body and eye the fae warily. “What is your name?” I ask, knowing well the fae never deign to reveal their full or true names.

The tall and lithe fae looks down his nose at me in dark amusement. “I am no one of consequence,” he says. “And who are you? An unprotected mortal in Faery is as good as dead, pretty girl.”

My head spins. Are my father’s warnings true? Is Faery truly so lethal a place? “Why should I offer you a name if you will not permit me the same courtesy, sir?”

The fae smirks and my heart pounds in my chest, heat flushing my cheeks. “You ought to be careful what comes out of that mouth, or you may find yourself having to use it in an undesirable fashion to save yourself.”

I instinctively squeeze my thighs and swallow the unexpected yearning I feel blossoming between them. “I am a lady, sir, and it is you who should guard your tongue.” Keeping my shoulders straight and my head held high, I resist the intense desire within to reach out and touch the unfathomable beauty who is so casually insulting me.

“You are…” The fae pauses, his gaze narrowing as he assesses me. “Intriguing. Most mortal women who chance upon our realm are either absent-minded fools or seeking to sell their wares to someone who might pay a higher price to wreck such fragile flesh.”

I avert my gaze at the thought of selling my body for coin. “Such things are frowned upon, where I come from. And I will have you know I can read and write. I am no village idiot.”

“It would appear not.” The fae glances about, his posture tensing, before he looks me up and down once more. “Unless you desire to be food for the wolves, you best come with me.”

Wolves? I try and suppress the shivers that have me shaking, but it is an exercise in futility. It is freezing out here in the weather, and if dangerous beasts are nearby, I have no means of defending myself. “Where are you going?” I ask, taking a cautious step forward.

“Home,” says the fae. “Are you coming or not, girl? Because I keep a fast pace and wait for no one.”

“My name is Dove,” I say. “Not girl. And I am coming.”

The fae glances back over his shoulder, his dark silver hair spilling over his shoulders as his deep blue eyes pierce my very soul. “You may call me Silas,” he says after a moment’s hesitation. “Come along then, pretty bird.”

I nod, grimacing at the pet name, and hurry to catch up with him. And for better or worse, I cannot shake the feeling I am simply choosing one breed of predator over another…

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