Novel & Cerita Filthy Rich Fae Book 2

Correcting my collar, I walked around and sat on the chair. “But the story in this book is about a fae who walked down the path of evil and darkness,” he said. “The fae folks lived on land thousands of years ago. They were a small race, but a magically advanced and a superior race. This book tells the story of a fae lord, the king of the fae folks, Emrys Mizkeal.” Carys and I exchanged a glance. We had never heard that name before, not in any folktale.

But would she be even alive? The fae caught her and pulled her back to him. He gripped her waist hard and licked her face with his tongue. “I like women who are not easy,” he said. Amelia tried to slam her knees into his crotch again but he caught her and threw her on the ground. She growled not with pain, but with irritation. She sucked air. He came down upon her with the force of a freight train and flattened her as he piled on top of her. He licked her face again, his eyes looking like hot molted lava of red. She was disgusted and slapped him across the face. He held her face and got his lips near her lips. In defense, in hatred, in sick revulsion, she brought her hand and caught his face

“If you know about my brother you know why I need to leave. I’ve got to get back to the club. I need the money to keep him alive. “I told you before, you’re never setting foot in that den of filth again,” Dominic hissed, his nostrils twitching as he smelt the scent of her neck. The silver-laced chemical was wearing off, and a faint, enticing sense of her natural alluring perfume was starting to flow through, like wild jasmine and fresh dirt. It drove the beast within him insane with a primordial, barbaric hunger.

Green eyes that seemed to have never seen anything dirty. Lips, desirable and delicious. My throat felt dry and my eyes narrowed at the sight of her innocent-looking face. A siren-like creature that looked out of this world. The image of her long white hair popped up in my head, and before I knew it, I was fucking kissing her. She didn't push me away, nor did she refuse me. I ran my lips slowly over her soft lips. My beast growled greedily as I devoured her lips whole and hungrily.

The gala wasn't just a party; it was a display of predatory wealth. The grand ballroom of the Obsidian Hotel was filled with the scent of expensive champagne and the heavy, metallic tang of Alpha power. Faith stood at the top of the marble staircase, her hand trembling slightly as it rested on Killian’s arm. She was wearing a floor-length gown of liquid silver that clung to her like a second skin. Around her neck sat the Nightshade diamonds—cold, heavy, and a clear mark of ownership.

Silas moved behind her, his hands settling on her shoulders. "Read aloud," he said. "The page you were on. Start reading." "Silas, what—" "Read." His hands slid down to cup her breasts through her thin dress. "And don't stop. No matter what I do to you." Eve's breath caught as his fingers found her nipples, teasing them through the fabric. She picked up the book with trembling hands and found her place. "The fae courts are divided into two primary factions," she read, her voice already unsteady. "The Seelie Court, associated with summer and light, and the Unseelie Court, associated with winter and darkness—"

"Fuck me instead." The air in the room went still. I felt the blood rush south instantly, my trousers becoming uncomfortably tight as her words hung between us. "You're drunk, Elira. It's not the time for that," I said, my jaw tight. "Why? Because I'm a mess?" She crawled toward the edge of the bed, dragging me closer until her face was inches from mine. The smell of tequila was strong, but beneath it was the scent of her skin—something warm and feminine that always made my head spin. "Fuck me, Arthur. I want to see the look on his face when he finds out I'm pregnant with your child. I want to take his last bit of pride."

My hand curled into a fist at my side. “No.” *You felt it. Don’t pretend you didn’t.* I didn’t answer. Because maybe he was right. The moment I grabbed her wrist at the cliff edge, something shifted. A pull. It was faint, barely there, but undeniable. And her scent…Fuck. It was so faint I almost didn’t catch it. Buried under blood and dirt and fear. But beneath all that—wildflowers after rain, delicate and beautiful. It felt wrong for someone so broken, making my wolf restless.