Book

DELL BOOKS BY KAREN MARIE MONING Beyond the Highland Mist To Tame a Highland Warrior The Highlander’s Touch Kiss of the Highlander The Dark Highlander The Immortal Highlander Spell of the Highlander Darkfever Bloodfever Faefever

Some people are a force of nature. Like wind or water over stone, they reshape lives. This book is dedicated to Amy Berkower.

When I was in high school, I usedto hate that Sylvia Plath poem where she talked about knowing the bottom, that she knew it with her great taproot and that it was what everybody else feared, but she didn’t, because she’d been there. I still hate it. But I get it now. —Mac’s journal

Prologue
Mac: 11:18 a.m., November 1

D

eath. Pestilence. Famine.

They surround me, my lovers, the terrifying Unseelie Princes. Who‘d‘vethought destruction could be so beautiful? Seductive. Consuming. My fourth lover—War? He ministers to me tenderly. Ironic for the bringer of Chaos, creator of Calamity, maker of Madness—if that is who he is. I cannot see his face, no matter how I try. Why does he hide? He caresses my skin with hands of fire. I char, my skin blisters, bones fuse from sexual heat no human can endure. Lust consumesme. I arch my back and beg for more with parched tongue, cracked lips. As he fills my body, he quenches my thirst with drink. Liquid spills over my tongue, drips down my throat. I convulse. He moves inside me. I catch a glimpse of skin, muscle, a flash of tattoo. Still no face. He terrifies me, this one who keeps himself concealed. In the distance, someone barks commands. I hear many things,understand none. I know that I have fallen into enemy hands. I know also, soon, I will no longer know even that. Pri-ya, a Fae sex addict, I will believe there is no place, nothing else I would rather be. If my thoughts were coherent enough to form sentences, I would tell you that I used to think life unfolded in a linear fashion. That people were born and went to … what‘s that human word? I dressed upfor it every day. There were boys. Lots of cute boys. I thought the world revolved around them. His tongue is in my mouth, and it’s tearing apart my soul. Helpmesomeonepleasehelpmemakehimstopmakethemgoaway. School. That‘s the word I‘m looking for. After that, you get a job. Marry. Have … what are they? Fae can‘t have them. Don‘t understand them. Precious little lives. Babies! If you‘re lucky, youlive a good, full life and grow old with someone you love. Caskets then. Wood gleams. I weep. A sister? Bad! Memory hurts! Let it go! They’re in my womb. They want my heart. Tear it open. Gorge on passion they can’t feel. Cold. How can fire be so cold? Focus, Mac. Important. Find the words. Deep breath. Don‘t think about what‘s happening to you. See. Serve. Protect. Others at risk. So many died.Can‘t be for nothing. Think of Dani. She‘s you inside, beneath that adolescent thumbs-in-the-pockets, one hip cocked, thousand-yard stare.

I orgasm without ceasing. I become the orgasm. Pleasure-pain! Exquisite! Mind-melting, soulshredding, the more they fill me the emptier I am. It’s slipping, all slipping, but before it goes, before it’s gone completely, I get a hateful moment of clarity andsee that Most of what I believed about myself, and life, I derived from modern media, without questioning any of it. If I wasn‘t sure how to behave in a certain situation, I‘d search my mind for a movie or TV show I‘d seen, with a similar setup, and do whatever the actors had done. A sponge, I absorbed my environment, became a byproduct of it. I don‘t think I ever once looked up at the sky andwondered if there was sentient life in the universe besides the human race. I know I never looked down at the earth beneath my feet and contemplated my own mortality. I tunneled blithely through magnolia-drenched days, blind as a mole to everything but guys, fashion, power, sex, whatever would make me feel good right then. But these are confessions I would make if I could speak, and I can‘t. I‘m...