Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
So I order my brain to shut the fuck up and stop thinking of Amell in any way other than being the wicked ruler of the Underworld who would see me cast into the river without a moment’s pause.
The double doors open, and I turn to see people—or whatever they are—filing in.
All look human, for the most part, although one tall man has bluish skin that makes his long blond hair seem almost white.
Yes, they look human, but in a way… they do not.
They’re actually all too beautiful to be human. Like Amell, they have perfect bodies and ethereal faces without a single thing out of place to make them look a fraction of ordinary. Are they so beautiful because they’re fallen angels? But I don’t know if that is indeed what they are. They could be Dark Fae who descended from the original fallen.
The only one I know for sure who is an original is Amell, and whether I’m biased or not, he’s more stunning than all the others.
A large oval table seats twenty—I know, because I had time to count—and the guests take seats. By my quick perusal, there are only eleven—six women and five men.
“Girl,” a deep voice says, and my head turns that way. One of the fae waves a hand. “Bring me wine.”
I’m a bartender by trade, at least that’s what I was at the time of my death, and serving alcohol is second nature. But it’s intimidating being in a room full of large, unearthly beings that could crush me with one strike of a fist. Will told me that a fae has the strength of a hundred men and could break me with nothing more than a firm grip.
Grabbing one of the metal wine carafes, I hustle around the table. The fae is impossibly handsome with jet-black hair and even blacker eyes.
Those eyes roam over me from head to toe, and I hate the clothes that Amell left for me. When I got out of my bath a few hours ago, my rough denim uniform was gone and a dress was lying across the bed alongside a platter of meats, cheese, and fruit. I had no doubt it was all for me. While I ate, I studied the gown draped over the large mattress, but I couldn’t figure out why I should dress up to serve drinks.
After I ate, I put the dress on. White folds of silk gathered at the shoulders and under my breasts in a classic Grecian style. Not sure why that’s the style down here, but there was a pair of gold braided sandals too. Even though they’re thin soled, it’s better than being barefoot. I combed the tangles from my hair and let it dry naturally because in Hell, they apparently don’t have hair dryers.
“You must be the new plaything I heard Amell saved from the river,” the fae says when I reach him, his hand slapping my butt before squeezing. I try to skitter to the side, but his hand slides to my waist and he pulls me in closer. “I can’t wait to try you out.”
Nausea hits and I react on pure instinct, jamming my elbow hard into his ribs. It’s not hard enough to hurt him, despite using all my strength. It does surprise him, though, and he loosens his hold so I’m able to wrench away. The wine in the carafe sloshes over the edge, spilling to the floor.
The fae’s hand shoots out and grips my wrist, jerking me back in. My stomach drops as I see the fury in his eyes. “You dare strike a noble?” he growls, squeezing my wrist so hard I’m afraid it’s going to snap.
“Jago!” My head whips toward the door to find Amell striding through, his eyes pinned on us. “Release her immediately.”
Chairs screech as they’re pushed backward, the fae around the table standing in deference to their king.
Except the one holding my wrist as he lifts his chin in defiance. “She’s a lowly human.”
“She’s my lowly human,” Amell says quietly as he stops at the edge of the table across from us. “Let her go now, or I’ll make you let her go.”
Jago engages in a staring contest with Amell that lasts all of three seconds. When Amell’s eyes turn a glowing red, Jago slings me away from him.
I stumble and slosh more wine out of the pitcher before catching myself. Scurrying backward, I press against the wall.
All the fae have their eyes on Amell, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The fire in his eyes finally subsides, but his gaze doesn’t waver from Jago. It’s to the whole room he speaks. “This human is off-limits to everyone. No one is to touch her, and no one is to harm her. Anyone who does will earn a ticket straight to the Crimson River by my own hand.”