Flame & Shadow
Half-daemon Envy Starr is destined to die on Midsummer’s Eve, still a virgin, on some crappy cult’s live-stream feed. With thirty days left to live, the chance to escape her fate and get some action compels her into her absentee father’s world of beautifully cultured cruelty.
Once there, she’s the object of a deadly game, slated to alter the Fae realm’s power structure. Worse, the rules keep changing, and everyone has an ulterior motive, including her dae-licious guide, Brennan. Under a geas he’s desperate to break, she can’t trust him, or herself.
Stupid Stockholm syndrome.
But unless she can come to terms with what lies in her heart, her unlikely survival will be a fate worse than death. For her, and the rest of Fae.
I stabbed a stupid crepe, trying not to think about Kyle and Berk back in Vel. I was sure they were okay. I just wasn’t sure I’d ever see them again. Who was I kidding? They, and everyone else in the pub, would’ve written me off, and they’d be right to. I told you, getting snagged by a fae had a survival rate of zero. At least, nobody I’d ever heard of had come back to tell the tale.
Despite my cheery thoughts, I won’t lie, the crepes were just about the best thing I’d ever eaten. I figured I could die happy with them in my stomach. The imp seemed pleased when I said so and asked for seconds. As soon as I’d finished, the daemon tucked away his paper and lit a long, gold-filtered cigarette. The imp came back with espresso. I was feeling fancy and had mine with a twist.
“Thanks for that with the golem… I mean, it was a golem…?”
He blew out a long stream of smoke. It was a gross habit, but he made it look worth taking up. “Yes, and you’re welcome.”
“Uh, any idea why it was there?”
“For you, otherwise it wouldn’t have revealed itself.”
He didn’t seem particularly concerned, but my mouth went dry. Had he been watching me? Did he have anything to do with the dae Calista had been screwing? And more importantly:
“Are you going to eat me?”
He took another drag and raised a gorgeous eyebrow at me. “Would you like me to?”
Yeah, I just about died. That totally wasn’t what I meant.
AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.
Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time.
She pays the bills editing, wielding a wicked hot pink pen and writing a column on SFF. She also belongs to the Authors Guild, is a chapter treasurer for the RWA, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion, sleeps.
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