As a lot of you know, I love me some faeries. I’m not big on the fluffy, glittery types that grant wishes – I’m more about the darker types who would just as soon kiss you as curse you – perhaps in the same breath.
Here’s the blurb:
American grad student, Brontë Matthews, travelled to Wales to study at the elite Bren Gwyrdd Music Conservatory, but life on the secluded campus isn’t what she expected. She quickly becomes friends with Quillen Davies and Tarran Ashe, and finds herself attracted to both. Even more troubling, an eerie melody repeatedly pulls her from sleep. When she follows, she finds herself in trouble and in the arms of her friends, the men who’ve haunted her daydreams.
Crown Princes of the Seelie and Unseelie Faery courts, Quill and Tarran know Brontë is marked for sacrifice by the bloodthirsty factions of their people. By Sidhe tradition, human blood must be spilled to bind their reign, but Quill and Tarran know there must be a way to save the woman they love. They only hope they can find it in time.
And here’s an excerpt:
Quill watched as Brontë disappeared down the light-dappled path that led back towards the campus. At least in the daylight she’d be safe to wander the woods, and after dark, he hoped she’d stay locked in her living quarters. He continued to stare after her. The sun created a nimbus of her shoulder-length red hair and her pale skin practically glowed, begging for his touch. His fingers itched to caress her bare legs beneath the hem of her skirt. “She doesn’t believe us,” he muttered.
“Got all that from that clusterfuck of a conversation, did you?” Tarran rolled his eyes.
“Well, it’s not like we can tell her the truth.” He sighed and laid back on the sun-warmed grass.
“None of this would even be an issue if you’d come back to court already.”
“I’m aware,” Quill snapped. “In fact, it would be even less of an issue if I’d never left in the first place, right?”
“Your words. Not mine.”
“I’ve heard you think them often enough.”
“Why? That’s what I want to know more than anything. What is your fascination with the humans?” Quill opened his mouth, but Tarran held up his hand, momentarily stalling his answer. “I understand your attraction to Brontë. She’s different than the others, but I just don’t get what you see in the rest of them.”
Quill opened his mouth again, but Tarran was nowhere near done.
“Seriously—they’re destroying the planet, polluting earth, sky and water, killing or mutating natural life everywhere.”
Quill sighed. He’d heard it all before. “Finished?”
“Not remotely.” Tarran barely took a breath before starting in again. “They haven’t a care for anything save their own petty needs.”
“And the Sidhe are so different?” Quill bit out. “Seelie…Unseelie…self-centred narcissists, the whole lot of them.”
“Don’t forget, you’re every bit as fey as the rest of us, and sooner or later, you need to return. Time is running out. The Solstice is almost upon us.”
Quill closed his eyes and let the sun beat down on him. Slowing his breathing, he tuned into the quiet rhythmic pulse of the earth beneath him. The insistent thrumming repeated Tarran’s message. Time was short. He was needed in his own realm. If he didn’t return for the coronation, chaos would ensue. Both the Seelie and Unseelie Courts needed their rulers to maintain any semblance of order. He had no desire to go back, to be yoked by the crown. Worst of all, the crowning required a sacrifice. A human sacrifice. And he was pretty sure he knew whom the faeries had chosen.
Reading his mind, Tarran asked, “You know where this is all leading, right?” Quill glanced at the other man who stared off in the direction Brontë had taken.
“I won’t let it happen.”
Quill sat up and glared at his sometime friend. “The Sidhe can take me, crown me, use me, but I won’t let them have her.”
Tarran’s head whipped around. “You don’t have a choice. You can’t stop it.”