Beauty [A Faery Story 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

A Faery Story 3

Beauty

In one horrifying night, Bronwyn Finn lost her family, her kingdom, and the princes who had haunted her dreams for years. Left alone, years pass as she fights for survival and craves revenge against the uncle who took everything from her. But she’s never forgotten her Dark Ones.

A tragedy marred Lach and Shim McIver’s future. The future kings of the Unseelie Fae are obsessed with finding their promised wife—Bronwyn. Lach and Shim have never stopped believing that Bronwyn is their mate. She is the bond that connects the halves of their shared soul.

With the blessing of the renegade kings, Beck and Cian Finn, Lach and Shim begin a dangerous quest to find their bride before Torin and his hags take her life.

Across two planes, a war will rage. Lives will be lost. Love will be found. And the Seelie Fae will welcome their true kings home.

Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.

Genre:
Contemporary, Fantasy, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length:
120,717 words
 

A Faery Story 3

Sophie Oak

MENAGE EVERLASTING

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

BEAUTY

E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-954-5

First E-book Publication: July 2012

Cover design by Les Byerley

All art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

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Beauty
by Sophie Oak from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

This is Sophie Oak’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Oak’s right to earn a living from her work.

Amanda Hilton, Publisher

www.SirenPublishing.com

www.BookStrand.com

This one is for the fans. May you all find your happily ever after.

BEAUTY

A Faery Story 3

SOPHIE OAK

Copyright © 2012

The Seelie plane

Thirteen years before

Bronwyn Finn looked down at the hole in her stomach and wondered how long it would take to die. She stumbled into her mother’s room, pushing back the ornate double doors. She held her hand to her gut, trying to stem the tide. Smoke and tears seemed to be her world now, obliterating her home. She’d grown up in the White Palace, the marbled floors always beneath her feet. Her father’s room had been off-limits to all but Beck, but her mother’s room had been a sanctuary.

It was why she’d run here when the world had exploded around her.

But her mother was nowhere to be found.

Her hands shook. She was losing control.
Of course you are, Bron. You took a knife to the gut. Not much coming back from that.

Her uncle’s men. Torin had turned on them all. She made it to her mother’s big bed, pushing past the filmy curtains. As a child, she would pull them closed and pretend she was in a whole other world. A world where the friends from her dreams were real. Tears blurred her eyes. Her Dark Ones. They’d been with her for as long as she could remember, but she’d stopped speaking of them long ago. Her father had called her crazy when she spoke of their nightly visitations. Her mother had called in healers. Only Cian had listened without prejudice. Beck couldn’t listen. He didn’t have time, and he was almost never allowed out of their father’s sight. Still, he would catch her eyes and wink or ruffle her hair as he walked past. He was a king.

Bronwyn cried out. Was Beckett even alive? Had Torin killed them all?

When she died, would she see them? Her Dark Ones?

“You ain’t dead yet, girl.” The menacing voice pulled her from her misery. She looked up and saw the soldier who had attacked her. He was dressed in her uncle’s colors, black and gold, with the Finn family crest upon his breast. Her crest. Her kingdom. But it didn’t matter. It seemed it was her Uncle Torin’s world now.

Bron tried to move. There was a nasty gleam in the soldier’s eye that told her he was happy she hadn’t died yet. He wanted to play. She shook her head. She was dying and yet, in the moment, the thought of his bloodied hands on her body was more repugnant than death itself.

But she had no choice. None. So much of her life had been thus.
Do your hair just so, Bronwyn. Stand up straight. A princess shouldn’t be friends with her servants. Don’t speak so freely to the brownies. Put that book down. A princess doesn’t need to know such things.

A princess hadn’t needed to know how to protect herself. A princess hadn’t needed to understand politics.

A princess died just as easily as her sweet brownie friend had.

His hand snaked out, grabbing her ankle and pulling her down the bed. She could see she’d soaked her mother’s pristine white sheets with bright red blood. Her blood.

Her mother had given birth to her in this bed. Bronwyn would die here.

“Don’t,” she begged. She wanted to close her eyes. Goddess, she wanted to see them one last time. She was shocked to find that in her last moments, all she wanted to do was sleep and be with them again. Her Dark Ones. Her friends. The shadow men who held her heart. She wanted their arms around her, their voices whispering. The dreams had changed recently, become more physical. She’d kissed them the night before, a soft touch of the lips, moving from one to the other because she couldn’t favor one. She loved them both.

No more phantom kisses. Just pain and humiliation and death.

She tried to kick out, but she was weak, so weak. Her legs wouldn’t move. It didn’t matter. The soldier could move them. He spread them wide, shoving her skirt up. Stupid skirt. She’d tripped over it. It was how he’d caught her in the first place, but a princess didn’t wear pants.

“I never had me a lady before.” His hands worked at the ties of his pants.

She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see him. She tried to bring her hands up, but it hurt. And then it didn’t. Not quite as much. And the voice in her head became different. Not her own.

Get me close, love. Get me close. Can you feel me? I am with you always. Always, love.

She knew that voice. The softer of the two. Why hadn’t she found out their names? In her dreams, they didn’t need names. Now she wanted to call out for him. She laughed a bit. She was going insane.

“Ain’t nothing going to save you, girl.” The soldier put his hands on her thighs, spreading her further.

Her hands tingled, warmth spreading where before there had been only cold. Her whole body felt warm again as though a fire had started somewhere deep inside her. She felt a little boost of energy enliven her veins, and she reached for him, ignoring her instinct to try to run. She knew in her head she should be trying to get away, but she grabbed him and felt the heat flare. Smoke began, and she would have sworn she felt fire lick from her hands. It was right there. All she had to do was focus it.

“What?” The soldier looked down at the place where she gripped him. He screamed a little and tried to move.

She just had to hold on. She could start the fire. She could envelop them all. Torin would get nothing. If the blaze she began didn’t kill him, at least the palace would go. Char and ruin would be all that Torin enjoyed of his bloody inheritance.

There was a grunt and the tip of a sword pierced the soldier’s torso from behind.

And then the soldier’s eyes went blank, unseeing. He slumped over, and the fire left her hands. She wanted to scream, to wail that he’d been her kill, but the energy she’d felt had fled as though a wall had come down, cutting her off from that strange power.

And from the familiar voice.

She sagged back on the bed even as she felt the soldier’s body being dragged away. Had another come to take his place? Her mind was so misty, filled with odd, disjointed memories. Her brother chasing her. Cousin Dante’s fangs popping out for the first time at the most inopportune moment. She laughed, remembering the vampire’s embarrassment. Dante. She would miss him. And her mother and Beck and Cian and Nola, the brownie who had been her constant companion, her servant, her friend.

She would miss them all.

She heard someone cry and felt herself being pulled into strong arms. She was so weak, but she still recognized her brother’s face. Cian. Cian was weeping, his handsome face covered with soot and dirt. Cian had killed the soldier. Beck was the warrior half, but Cian, her sweet, intellectual brother, had slain the man who would have raped her and taken her final dignity.